The Explorers (30 page)

The man became alarmed, and threatened me with his club, yelling most furiously; but as I neared the rock, behind which all but his head and arm was covered, he fled towards an adjoining one, dodging dexterously according to the native manner of confusing an assailant and avoiding the cast of his spear; but he was scarcely uncovered in his flight when my rifle ball pierced him through the back, between the shoulders, and he fell heavily on his face with a deep groan.

The effect was electrical. The tumult of the combat had ceased: not another spear was thrown, not another yell was uttered. Native after native dropped away, and noiselessly disappeared. I stood alone with the wretched savage dying before me, and my two men close to me behind the rocks, in the attitude of deep attention; and as I looked round upon the dark rocks and forests, now suddenly silent and lifeless, but for the sight of the unhappy being who lay on the ground before me, I could have thought that the whole affair had been a horrid dream.

W
ARRUP

Onwards, Onwards, 1839

Trust George Grey to give us what is probably the earliest first-hand Aboriginal account of exploration in Australia. In April 1839 Grey's expedition came to grief seeking an overland route south from Shark Bay. Grey split his party and struggled on to Perth with a handful of men. Here, Warrup, a Noongar man, memorably describes the journey of the relief expedition sent in search of the men who had been left behind, south of where Geraldton stands today.

1st day—At Dundalup we eat fish; then onwards, onwards, onwards, till we slept at Neerroba.

2nd day—Onwards, onwards, till we reached Nowergoop, where the horses drank water; then onwards, onwards, onwards, until Manbabee, where we eat flesh and bread. Onwards, onwards, onwards, until Yungee, where we shot ducks, and the horses drank water. Onwards, onwards, onwards, onwards, to Boongarrup, where we slept one
sleep
.

3rd day—Onwards through a forest, onwards through a forest, onwards through a forest. We slept at Neergammy, a pleasant resting-place; the land was good, the herbage good; pleasant was our resting-place, and our hut was good.

4th day—Onwards, onwards, onwards, we entered a woody country. Onwards, through a forest, onwards through a forest; we now see the waters of Kajeelup; we eat flesh and bread. Onwards through the forest, onwards through the forest, onwards through the forest. We see the tracks of natives; we shout aloud, and then proceed conversing with natives; they sit down. Onwards go we, onwards, onwards, onwards; the horses drink water; by and by, we see tracks. Onwards, onwards, onwards; we see a large water; we shoot ducks. On the one side we see two waters, on the other side one water we see. Onwards, onwards, onwards, onwards, onwards; we see no other water. Onwards through the forest, onwards through the forest, onwards through the forest; we see a river. You had here eaten freshwater mussels: at this river we sleep. Barramba is the place's name.

5th day—Onwards through the forest, through the forest, through the forest, through the forest onwards; water we see not. Through the forest onwards; through the forest onwards; we see a water, but a worthless water. Yours and Kaiber's footsteps we see. Here there is no grass. You had here shot a bird—a cockatoo you shot. Maribara was this place's name.

Onwards through the forest, through the forest onwards, through the forest onwards; we see no other water; the herbage is worthless. We still go onwards, onwards through the forest. We see natives; a few natives we see: the men are two, the women one, the children two. We see the place called Nowergup.

We say, ‘Where is there water? Here the water is bad.'

The natives say, ‘Yonder the water is good—here it is bad. At Boranyup the water is good.'

We go onwards, onwards, onwards; at Boranyup we sleep—rain falls as we sleep at Boranyup.

6th day—Onwards through the forest, onwards through the forest, onwards through the forest; some of the others sit down; Auger sits down; Hunt sits down. Mr Roe, Mr Spofforth and I on horseback go onwards, onwards, onwards, onwards, through the forest onwards, through the forest onwards, through the forest onwards, through the forest onwards. We see the sea; then onwards, onwards, onwards; along the seashore onwards, along the seashore onwards, along the seashore onwards. We see the tracks of white men.

Then we turn back again, away we go back again, back again away; through the forest away, through the forest away, through the forest away; back again. We move, move, till we sit at Boranyup; we then eat kangaroo; Hunt and Auger had brought it in. At Boranyup we lie down; we sleep.

7th day—The next day away, away, away, away, returning, returning, on our tracks returning, on our tracks returning, on our tracks returning. At Barramba we sit down: we eat bread and meat; they eat freshwater mussels; the natives eat not freshwater mussels.

Away, away, away, away, away; we see the water of Djunjup; we shoot game. Away, away, away, through a forest away, through a forest away; we see no water. Through a forest away; along our tracks away, along our tracks away, along our tracks away, along our tracks away. We sleep at Ka-jil-up; rain falls; the water here is good: the horses feed—well did the horses feed.

8th day—Away, away; along our tracks away, along our tracks away; hills ascending: then pleasantly away, pleasantly away, away; through a forest away, through a forest away, through a forest away; we see a water—the water of Goonmarrarup. Along the river away, along the river away; a short distance along the river we go; then away, away, away, through a forest away; a short distance through a forest we go.

Then along another river away, away; we cross the river; away, a short distance away. At Neergammy we sleep, raising huts.

The others continue returning; we go away, away: in the forest we see no water; we see no footsteps; we see some papers—the papers put by Mr Mortimer we see: still we go onwards, along the sea away, along the sea away, along the sea away: through the bush away, through the bush away; then along the sea away, along the sea away. We see white men—three of them we see. They cry out, ‘Where is water?' Water we give them—brandy and water we give them. We sleep near the sea.

Away, away go we (I, Mr Roe and Kinchela), along the shore away, along the shore away, along the shore away. We see no fresh water; along the shore away, along the shore away. We see a paper, the paper of Mortimer and Spofforth. Away we go, away, away, along the shore away, away, away, a long distance we go. I see Mr Smith's footsteps ascending a sandhill, onwards I go regarding his footsteps. I see Mr Smith dead. We commence digging the earth.

Two
sleeps
had he been dead; greatly did I weep, and much I grieved. In his blanket folding him, we scraped away the earth.

We scrape earth into the grave, we scrape the earth into the grave, a little wood we place in it. Much earth we heap upon it—much earth we throw up. No dogs can dig there, so much earth we throw up. The sun had just inclined to the westward as we laid him in the ground.

E
DWARD
J
OHN
E
YRE

Oh Massa, Oh Massa, Come Here, 1841

Edward Eyre's crossing of southern Australia in 1840–41, in the company of Wylie (an Aborigine from the Albany area), is one of the most compelling stories in Australian exploration. Eyre's overseer, James Baxter, and two Aboriginal youths, Joey and Yarry, who accompanied the expedition, were destined not to complete the journey. Eyre's brooding account illustrates the point that Aboriginal ‘guides' were not always willing participants and reliable companions. When their interests conflicted with those of their white leaders, they had few means of being heard. Sometimes, frustration, fear and continual displays of white superiority would lead to an outburst—even to murder.

Eyre and Wylie trudged on to Albany where they had long been given up for dead. As they stood above the town in dismal weather Eyre wept, remembering the disasters of the journey. Wylie, on the other hand, was welcomed home by his people with wild joyous cries.

April 29—Three miles from where we had halted during the heat of the day, we passed some tolerable grass, though dry, scattered at intervals among the scrub which grew here in dense belts, but with occasional openings between. The character of the ground was very rocky, of an oolitic limestone, and having many hollows on its surface. Although we had only travelled eighteen miles during the day, the overseer requested I would stop here, as he said he thought the clouds would again gather and that rain might fall tonight; that here we had large sheets of rock and many hollows in which the rainwater could be collected; but that if we proceeded onwards we might again advance into a sandy country and be unable to derive any advantage from the rain, even should it fall.

I intended to have travelled nearly the whole of this night to make up for the time we had lost in the heat of the day, and I was the more inclined to do this now that the violence of the storm had in some measure abated, and the appearance of rain had almost disappeared. The overseer was so earnest, however, and so anxious for me to stop for the night that, greatly against my own wishes, and in opposition to my better judgment, I gave way to him and yielded. The native boys too had made the same request, seconding the overseer's application, and stating that the violence of the wind made it difficult for them to walk against it.

The horses having been all hobbled and turned out to feed, the whole party proceeded to make break-winds of boughs to form a shelter from the wind, preparatory to laying down for the night. We had taken a meal in the middle of the day, which ought to have been deferred until night, and our circumstances did not admit of our having another now, so that there remained only to arrange the watching of the horses before going to sleep. The native boys had watched them last night, and this duty of course fell to myself and the overseer this evening. The first watch was from six o'clock p.m. to eleven, the second from eleven until 4 a.m., at which hour the whole party usually arose and made preparations for moving on with the first streak of daylight.

Tonight the overseer asked me which of the watches I would keep, and as I was not sleepy, though tired, I chose the first. At a quarter before six, I went to take charge of the horses, having previously seen the overseer and the natives lay down to sleep, at their respective break-winds, ten or twelve yards apart from one another. The arms and provisions, as was our custom, were piled up under an oilskin between my break-wind and that of the overseer, with the exception of one gun, which I always kept at my own sleeping place. I have been thus minute in detailing the position and arrangement of our encampment this evening, because of the fearful consequences that followed, and to show the very slight circumstances upon which the destinies of life sometimes hinge. Trifling as the arrangement of the watches might seem, and unimportant as I thought it at the time, whether I undertook the first or the second, yet was my choice, in this respect, the means under God's providence of my life being saved, and the cause of the loss of that of my overseer.

The night was cold, and the wind blowing hard from the south-west, whilst scud and nimbus were passing very rapidly by the moon. The horses fed tolerably well, but rambled a good deal, threading in and out among the many belts of scrub which intersected the grassy openings, until at last I hardly knew exactly where our camp was, the fires having apparently expired some time ago. It was now half past ten, and I headed the horses back in the direction in which I thought the camp lay, that I might be ready to call the overseer to relieve me at eleven. Whilst thus engaged, and looking steadfastly around among the scrub to see if I could anywhere detect the embers of our fires, I was startled by a sudden flash, followed by the report of a gun, not a quarter of a mile away from me.

Imagining that the overseer had mistaken the hour of the night and, not being able to find me or the horses, had taken that method to attract my attention, I immediately called out, but as no answer was returned I got alarmed and, leaving the horses, hurried up towards the camp as rapidly as I could. About a hundred yards from it, I met the King George's Sound native (Wylie), running towards me, and in great alarm crying out, ‘Oh massa, oh massa, come here'—but could gain no information from him as to what had occurred. Upon reaching the encampment, which I did in about five minutes after the shot was fired, I was horror-struck to find my poor overseer lying on the ground, weltering in his blood and in the last agonies of death.