The Explorers (53 page)

He was a bold-looking customer, and walked round the horses in astonishment, making peculiar noises with his tongue and lips. Informing them they must come on with us to Joanna Spring (Biggarong), they both pleaded lameness, afterwards pointing northwards in the direction of the smokes, saying Biggarong was there. Finding we were to have trouble, Mr Ord handcuffed them together. Sending the gins and children back to Djillill, I rode in advance, bearing north 247° east, whilst Mr Ord and Nicholson drove the natives after me, having to jostle them to make them follow up. After travelling eight miles, they ran up behind me and decided I was going in the right direction.

Reached the spring at ten miles and found that Bejah's party had arrived.

Travelled for day twenty-seven miles. We chained the natives to the tree I had previously marked here. They had visited this tree since I had marked it, and cut all the lettering off. The younger native, whose names is Pallarri, says
wanndanni
had done this, meaning the women. Being a descendant of Adam I suppose we must excuse him. We found the spring in the same condition as on our last visit, the supply being abundant. Hundreds of birds are now coming here to water.

This being the birthday of Her Majesty the Queen, we drank her health in whisky.

The natives are fastened to the tree by means of chains padlocked round their necks, and their legs are fastened with handcuffs. They have a break of bushes and some firewood, the nights being cold now. I was very anxious and could not rest, fearing the natives would get away. In the middle of the night I noticed a flicker of light and could see from behind my saddle where I was sleeping their dark eyes by the scanty firelight. For a long while I watched them trying to get the chain over their heads. Twice I called Mr Ord; the second time he was annoyed and administered a little chastisement to Master Yallamerri, telling them both to
lummbo
.

Tuesday 25 May—We bagged thirteen galahs and six pigeons this morning.

Spelled the camels here today, and filled kegs. During the afternoon Mr Ord and myself, each with a tracker, circled around the spring for some miles, to ascertain whether any other of the natives had come in, acting as spies; but we could see no signs of them.

We shall have difficulty in inducing these natives to conduct us to the spot where our comrades have perished. They say that two are dead and that the sun killed them, but they profess ignorance regarding the locality, and state that the women and children had found the remains and taken the goods. They are anxious to go north-west to some smokes where they say other natives are. No doubt they are afraid and naturally think we are in quest of the equipment our friends had and cannot understand our coming after the bodies or bones of dead men. Tomorrow, Wednesday, we purpose travelling westward.

Wednesday 26 May—Left Joanna Spring at 7.30 a.m., Bejah in advance with the camels, and following my old pad westerly, then the two natives handcuffed together, and Mr Ord with Nicholson, the trackers and myself bringing up the rear. We frequently asked the natives where the dead men were, but they were silent on this subject. We heard the elder native telling the younger something in whispers. They were very eager to go north and eventually said the dead men were in that direction. I could not stand this for it would not agree with statements made by the natives at other times.

At fifteen miles we reached the top of an unusually high sand ridge and halted to again question the natives. They pointed eagerly for Joanna Spring or other places, and also where other natives were, but on my suggesting the whereabouts of the dead white men they said nothing but walked on. It was most exasperating and Mr Ord, losing patience, cantered after them, and lifting Master Pallarri off his legs by a chignon (the style in which they dress the hair in these parts) shook him and brought them both back.

Pallarri angrily exclaimed
wah
at this treatment, and when I questioned him and spoke severely he laughed at me. Mr Ord then instructed Nicholson to administer a little moral suasion, whereupon Pallarri threw himself on the sand, partly dragging the wizard with him. Master Yallamerri, trembling and becoming afraid that his time had arrived, turned to me and eagerly snapping his fingers in a southerly direction exclaimed, ‘
Purrunng
whitefellow.'

Pallarri jumping up, they started off at a Chinaman's trot, exclaiming, ‘
Bah! bah!
' which I suppose means ‘Go quickly'. Whistling to Bejah we gave him a sign to wheel round, and driving the natives we followed them for three miles when it was getting late, so we decided to camp for the night. Our last course was north 145° east. After the natives were chained up and fed and made comfortable I explained that if they did not take us to the dead men they would get neither food, water, nor fire. They replied, ‘
Mabu, mabu
' As I feed them and have so far not hurt them they say I am good, but they have a wholesome dread of Nicholson, the chain, and handcuffs, and look with suspicion upon Mr Ord.

Thursday 27 May—After we had packed and mounted this morning, the natives, when loosened, again attempted to plead their ignorance, but upon Nicholson dismounting they ran off on the same bearing, exclaiming, ‘
Bah! Bah!
' At two miles on this course they halted on a high sand ridge and had a conversation together. Urging them on they then turned south-westerly for one and a half miles, when we came to a recently burnt patch of porcupine. Yallamerri then held his hand up, and moving his fingers about said, ‘
Purrunng
whitefellow.' Urging them forward again they ran along with their ‘
Bah! Bah!
'

Immediately in front of us was a high point of sand ridge with a low saddle to the west. Being on my camel this morning I had a better view and, seeing a rope hanging from a small desert gum tree on the ridge, I drew Sub-Inspector Ord's attention to it. The natives, now at the foot of the ridge, exclaimed in one awed breath, ‘
Wah! Wah!
' I could then see my cousin's iron-grey beard, and we were at last at the scene of their terrible death, with its horrible surroundings:—

Where Nature is sombre and sear,
Midst Solitude's silent embrace;
In reflection—pray pardon a tear
For the heroes who died in this place.

Dismounting, Mr Ord and myself went to my cousin, whilst Nicholson and Bejah went where they saw some remnants of the camp equipment and found the body of Mr G. L. Jones, which was partly covered with drift sand.

Where Charles Wells lay, half-clothed and dried like a mummy, we found nothing but a rug, a piece of rope hanging from a tree, and some old straps hanging to some burnt bushes, which held the brass eyelets of a fly that had either been rifled by the natives or burnt by a fire which had been within a few feet of his body. Where Mr Jones lay and near his head was a notebook with a piece of paper fastened outside it by an elastic band. It was addressed to his father and mother.

On suggesting to Sub-Inspector Ord that we should not open the note, he pointed out that in his official capacity it was imperative that he should see the contents. Besides, the note might give us something to act upon out here. Amongst a heap of remnants of their equipment we also found a satchel containing a box of medicines, a prayer book, leather pouch, Mr Jones's compass and journal, which was kept from the time of their departure from Separation Well until they returned to that water.

He stated in his journal that they had gone
WNW
for five days, after separating from the main party, then travelling a short distance
NE
, and that both himself and Charles had felt the heat terribly and were both unwell. They then returned to the well, after an absence of nine days, rested at the water five days, and then started to follow our tracks northward. Afterwards one of their camels died, which obliged them to walk a great deal and they became very weak and exhausted by the intense heat. When writing he says that two days previously he attempted to follow their camels, which had strayed, but after walking half a mile felt too weak to go further and returned with difficulty.

Charles Wells, he then said, was very ill indeed. There was, at that time, but about two quarts of water remaining to them, and he did not think they could last long after that was finished.

The natives have rifled the spot of everything that would be of any service to them. They have by some means cut up and removed the whole of the iron from the riding saddle, and taken all the hoops from both pairs of water-kegs, firearms etc. Although we made a careful search we could not find any writing left by my cousin, nor his journal, plans, sextant, compass, artificial horizon or star charts etc. and, with the exception of the map I picked up at the well six miles south-west of this spot, we have not seen a sign of any of these articles amongst the different natives I have met with.

Looking at my cousin as he lay on the sand with features perfect and outstretched open hand, I recalled the time we last parted when I felt his hard, strong grip. I little thought then that this would be our next meeting! I remember we spent a lively evening, our last together, at Separation Well, when both he and Mr Jones were joking freely, hopeful and full of life. The lines of his favourite poet, Adam Lindsay Gordon, occur to me—

With the pistol clenched in his failing hand,
With the death mists spread o'er his fading eyes,
He saw the sun go down on the sand,
And he slept and never saw it rise.
God grant that whenever, soon or late,
Our course is run and our goal is reached,
We may meet our fate as steady and straight
As he whose bones on yon desert bleached.

This spot is six miles north-easterly from the well where we encountered natives in April last, with rifled goods in their possession, and my camel pad from that place to Joanna Spring passes within a quarter of a mile to the south-east of the scene.

Sub-Inspector Ord has taken charge of all articles found here, and the bodies are sewn up in sheets ready for removal to Derby.

Leaving this melancholy spot we followed my old pad
en route
for Joanna Spring, during the afternoon, travelling seven miles, and camped for the night. The natives are well fed, but still prisoners.

Friday 28 May—Travelling eight miles this morning, we returned to Joanna Spring, and camped to allow our horses to recruit.

Saturday 29 May—Myself, Mr Ord and two trackers, with Yallamerri as guide, started in a south-easterly direction to try and find Bundir Water, of which natives had previously informed me. Yallamerri explains that that water is at present dead—'Bundir purrunng napa'. But we could not make him understand that we merely wanted to see the place. After going eight miles, the whole distance having recently been burnt, he told us the waters round about were all dead and not springs—‘Waddji tcharramarra'—that the only spring water was far away east-south-east, and it would take three sleeps to reach the spots.

Returning to Joanna Spring we questioned the natives, and they said there was another spring to the westward, but not in their country. They also knew nothing of a water called Lambeena which, in my opinion, must therefore be a considerable distance from here. Travelled sixteen miles per day.

Sunday 30 May—Started on return journey, travelling twenty miles along our old camel pad. The natives we have taken as far as this for our own safety. They both fairly broke down this morning, when they found the direction we were taking them. And crying ‘Sunndai' they pretended great lameness. However, forcing them along for fourteen miles, they then forgot their ailments, and Yallamerri caught six bandicoots amongst the clumps of porcupine grass.

Monday 31 May—Presenting the natives with knives, handkerchiefs, some food and water, we liberated them, telling them they could go back again to Djillill. They stood on the first sand ridge and watched us out of sight.

L
OUIS DE
R
OUGEMONT

Illywhacker, 1899

The wonderfully named Henri Louis Grin, alias Louis de Rougemont, provides the only fictitious account of exploration included in this anthology and earns his place because he is such an outrageous liar. The Swiss-born Grin arrived in Western Australia in 1875 as a butler but ultimately surfaced in Sydney where he sold real estate. After a stint in New Zealand as a spiritualist he returned to England in 1898 and published his imaginary adventures under the name Louis de Rougemont. Below, he tells of being besieged, along with his Aboriginal wife Yamba, by an extraordinary plague of rats.

One day as we were marching steadily along, Yamba startled me by calling out excitedly, ‘Up a tree—quick! Up a tree!' And so saying she scampered up the nearest tree herself. Now, by this time I had become so accustomed to acting upon her advice unquestioningly that without waiting to hear any more I made a dash for the nearest likely tree and climbed into it as fast as I could. Had she called out to me, ‘Leap into the river,' I should have done so without asking a question.