From Pakormungor the country began to decline to the northward and, as we descended into the basin of the Bogan, it improved in grass. The Acacia pendula occurring here reminded me of the banks of the Namoi; and Mr. Cunningham had a busy day in examining many interesting plants which he had not previously seen on this journey.
We at length encamped on a lagoon to which the natives led us, and which they named Cookopie.
WILD HONEY BROUGHT BY THE NATIVES.
We were now in a land flowing with honey, for our friendly guides, with their new tomahawks, extracted it in abundance from the hollow branches of the trees, and it seemed that, in the proper season, they could find it almost everywhere. To such inexpert clowns, as they probably thought us, the honey and the bees were inaccessible, and indeed invisible, save only when the natives cut the former out, and brought it to us in little sheets of bark, thus displaying a degree of ingenuity and skill in supplying wants which we, with all our science, could not hope to attain. Their plan was to catch a bee, and attach to it, with some resin or gum, the light down of a swan or owl; thus laden the bee would make for its nest in the branch of some lofty tree, and so betray its store of sweets to its keen-eyed pursuers, whose bee-chase presented, indeed, a laughable scene.
April 14.
We continued in a west or south-west direction, passing Goonigal,* a large plain on our right, near which there was a fine tract of open forest land. The ground afterwards rose in gentle undulations, and was covered with kangaroo grass;** the soil changing also from clay to a red sandy loam.
(*Footnote. This we found afterwards to be the native term for any plain.)
(**Footnote. Anthisteria australis.)
We next arrived at a creek, or chain of deep ponds, called Coogoorderoy, which appeared to come from the south-south-west. Further on we passed plains on our left of the same name; and at length we crossed a fine one, the native name of which was Turangenoo. On the skirt of it was a hill named Boorr, which we kept close on our left, crossing its lower extremities, which were covered with a forest of ironbark eucalyptus, and forest oaks or casuarinae.
ARRIVE AT TANDOGO.
At four o'clock we reached Tandogo, a fine creek of water descending from the south, and flowing to the Bogan.
A hill to the north-west, I was informed, was named the Bugamel.
ALLAN'S WATER OF OXLEY.
April 15.
I halted to lay down my survey, and connect it with that of Mr. Dixon of the Bogan. At noon I found our latitude to be 32 degrees 45 minutes 30 seconds South and on making allowance for the difference between Mr. Oxley's base (as to longitude) and my own, I supposed we were then upon Allan's Water of Oxley.
ADVANTAGE OF ABORIGINAL NAMES ON MAPS.
In this instance, as in many others, the great convenience of using native names is obvious. For instance, so long as any of the aborigines can be found in the neighbourhood of Tandogo, future travellers may verify my map. Whereas new names are of no use in this respect, especially when given to rivers or watercourses by travellers who have merely crossed them without ascertaining their course, or even their sources, or termination. He alone should be entitled to give a name to a river who explored its course or, at least, as much of it as may be a useful addition to geography; and when a traveller takes the trouble to determine the true place of hills or other features he might perhaps be at liberty to name them also. The covering a map with names of rivers or hills crossed or passed merely in traversing an unknown country, amounts to little more than saying that so many hills and rivers were seen there; and if nothing were ascertained further of the connections of the former, or the courses of the latter, we derive from such maps little more information than we had before; for that hills and rivers are to be seen in any unknown part of a country is generally understood to be the case before a traveller commences his journey. A future explorer determines with much trouble the position of a river in the world's map. "This is my river B---," says the man who crossed it first, or who, by merely stumbling perhaps upon it, claims all the merit of its DISCOVERY, even when circumstances may have forced him to proceed in that direction, rather than that he was looking for what he found under the guidance of any analogy, or series of observations.
In the afternoon I rode back to the hill of Boorr (seven miles) with the theodolite, and I obtained some useful angles to various points of Harvey's range, and on such few eminences as could be distinguished in other directions.
EXCURSION WITH MR. CUNNINGHAM.
April 16.
Mr. Larmer went forward with the carts in a north-west direction while I proceeded westward, accompanied by Mr. Cunningham, towards a hill which I had intersected from Mounts Juson and Laidley, and which I expected to find at about nine miles west by compass from our camp.
EFFECTS OF A HURRICANE IN THE FOREST.
We continued along an undulating ridge for about five miles, crossing also a flat on which all the trees, for a considerable extent, had been laid prostrate by some violent hurricane, making a very uncommon opening in the forest through which we were accustomed to travel. The trunks lay about due east, and all nearly parallel; thus recording a storm from the west before which our tents must have gone like chaff before the wind, and where shelter from the trees, not under them, might have been sought for in vain.
At 7 1/2 miles we crossed a chain of small ponds falling to the north (probably Coysgaime's ponds of Oxley) and about one mile further we ascended the northern shoulder of the hill I was in search of. From the summit I obtained angles on one or two hills to the south, which lay a few miles off, but I could not recognise them as having been previously intersected.
We descended and proceeded northward through the dense woods, in the midst of which, after estimating distances and time, I at length pulled my rein, and observed to Mr. Cunningham that I hoped to fall in with Mr. Larmer, or the track of the carts thereabouts.
ENCAMP WITHOUT WATER.
Just then I heard the crack of a whip, and we soon met Mr. Larmer at the head of the party. I continued the route in the same direction until after sunset, when we were obliged to encamp without reaching water. Bulger however, with the assistance of the natives, found some, after the rising of the moon, but not until he had been nearly three miles to the northward in search of it. The cattle could not be watered there that night as they had already travelled upwards of 15 miles.
I was aware that I might have made the Bogan by proceeding more towards the north; but I preferred the direct line of route, even at the risk of encountering a scarcity of water. In the more northerly course we should have entered a great bight of that river, whereas I was making for its most southern bend, which was not only in the most direct line towards Oxley's Tableland, but was also nearer the hills along which I was desirous of working my survey.
April 17.
ROCKS OF BENY.
We moved off at 8 o'clock, and at the distance of 3 1/4 miles we came upon some curious rocks of red sandstone, forming the tops of a ridge which extended North-North-East.
It is called Beny by the natives, and in a deep crevice there is a well, the water of which, although at times apparently deep, had the previous night been drained nearly to the bottom by a party of some tribe whose fires still were burning.
NATIVES LEAVE THE PARTY.
The natives who accompanied us examined the traces of those who had fled with considerable interest, and then fell behind our party and disappeared.
From the highest of these rocks I obtained some good angles and bearings on the hills I had seen on the day previous, and also on some of the loftiest summits of Harvey's range.
CATTLE DISTRESSED FOR WANT OF WATER.
Our cattle, having had no water during the night, began to be distressed, and I hurried forward, marking out the line, and we thus crossed, at five miles beyond the rocks of Beny, the dry bed of what appeared to be sometimes the channel of a considerable stream of water; its sides and bottom were however then grassy; its depth and breadth very uniform, while the general course appeared to be North-North-East but very tortuous.
At four o'clock I had continued to mark the line. Being then six miles beyond this channel, and anxious about finding water for the cattle, I galloped forward three miles in search of the Bogan but without reaching it.
The sun of this very hot day was near setting by the time I met our party, to whom I had hastened back. They had travelled two miles beyond the dry creek which it was my intention now to trace downwards as fast as possible, followed by all our animals, in hopes that it would lead to water.
MR. CUNNINGHAM MISSING.
While the men were unyoking the teams I was informed that Mr. Cunningham was missing. The occasional absence of this gentleman was not uncommon but, as he had left the party early in the day in order to join me, it was evident, from his not having done so, that he had gone astray.
DESPERATE SEARCH FOR WATER.
At that moment I felt less anxiety on the subject, little doubting that he would gain our camp before I returned from the forlorn search I was about to make for water. Leaving Mr. Larmer with the rest of the party to encamp there, I proceeded eastward towards the dry creek whose course I soon intercepted, and I hurried the bullock-drivers along its bed downwards until, after crossing many a hopeful but dry hole, they begged that the cattle might be allowed to rest.
AT LENGTH FIND WATER ON REACHING BY NIGHT THE RIVER BOGAN.
Leaving them therefore I continued my search with the horses, still following the channel, until I had the happiness of seeing the stars of heaven reflected from a spacious pool. We had in fact reached the junction of the creek with the Bogan. Having filled our kettles and leather bottles we hastened back to where we had left the bullocks. Leaving them to go forward and refresh, I set off at a venture on the bearing of south-west by south, in search of our camp. After an hour's riding the moon rose, and at length our cooey was answered. I had previously observed, by the moon's light, the track left by my horse that morning in the long dry grass, and verified it by some of my marks on the trees. Would that Mr. Cunningham had been as fortunate! At that time I did not doubt that I should find him at the camp; especially as we heard no guns, it being a practice in the bush to fire shots when persons are missing, that they may hear the report and so find the party. I then made sure of a pleasant night's rest, as I was relieved from my anxiety respecting the cattle.
ENCAMP ON THIS RIVER.
I had the pain to learn however on reaching the camp about eleven o'clock, that Mr. Cunningham was still absent; and, what was worse, in all probability suffering from want of water. I had repeatedly cautioned this gentleman about the danger of losing sight of the party in such a country; yet his carelessness in this respect was quite surprising. The line of route, after being traversed by our carts, looked like a road that had been used for years, and it was almost impossible to doubt then that he would fall in with it next morning.
April 18.
We continued to fire shots and sound the bugle till eleven o'clock. Our cattle were then ready to drink again and, as Mr. Cunningham was probably ahead of us, to proceed on our route to the Bogan without further delay was indispensable, in order that we might, in case of need, make such extensive search for him as was only possible from a camp where we could continue stationary.
We accordingly proceeded towards the Bogan, anxiously hoping that Mr. Cunningham would fall in with our line, and rejoin the party in the course of the day. After proceeding due north eight miles we came upon the bed of this river; but, before I could find water in it, I had to trace its course some way up and down. We at length encamped near a pond, and night advanced, but poor Mr. Cunningham came not!
CHAPTER 2.3.
Search for Mr. Cunningham.
No traces to be seen.
Supposed to have met with an accident.
Souter and Murray sent back along the track.
My search South-South-West 40 miles.
Interview with two natives.
Range of porphyry.
Mr. Cunningham's track found.
Mr. Larmer and a party sent to trace it.
Mr. Cunningham's track followed for 70 miles, his horse found dead.
His own footsteps traced.
Mr. Larmer meets a tribe.
The footsteps traced into the channel of the Bogan.
Death of the Kangaroo.
Reflections.
Five natives brought to me with a silk handkerchief in their possession.
Their names.
The party halt at Cudduldury.
Interview with the King of the Bogan.
Muirhead and Whiting sent to examine the dry channel of the river.
Search extended to the plains of the Lachlan.
Camp of Natives.
Pass the night in a hollow without water.
View towards Mount Granard.
A second night without water.
Awoke by the forest on fire.
Interview with three natives.
Roots of trees sucked by the natives.
Horses reach the camp with great difficulty.
Part of Mr. Cunningham's coat found.
SEARCH FOR MR. CUNNINGHAM.
April 19.
After an almost sleepless night I rose early, and could relieve my anxiety only by organising a search, to be made in different directions, and getting into movement as soon as possible. The darkness of a second night of dreary solitude had passed over our fellow-traveller under the accumulated horrors of thirst, hunger, and despair!
It was most mysterious that he had not fallen in with our line of route which was a plain, broad road since the passage of the carts; and had a direction due north and south for ten miles. The last time he had been seen was twelve miles back, or about two miles from the dry bed of the creek (since named Bullock creek) where I changed the direction from north-west by compass to due north, that I might sooner reach the Bogan, for the sake of water. It was probable that in following my marked trees without much attention he had not observed the turn I took there, and that continuing in the same direction beyond the creek he had therefore lost them, and had proceeded too far to the westward. This was the more likely as the dry creek was on the eastward of our line; where, had he gone that way, he must have found our cattle-tracks, or met with the cattle. I therefore determined to examine myself the whole country westward of our line for twelve miles back. I sent The Doctor and Murray west by compass six miles, with orders to return in a south-east direction till they intersected the route, and then return along it; and I sent two other men back along the route in case our missing friend might have been coming on in a weakly state that way. All three parties carried water and provisions. I proceeded myself with two men on horseback, first, seven miles in a south-west direction, which brought me into the line Mr. Cunningham might have followed, supposing he had continued north-west. The country I traversed consisted of small plains and alternate patches of dense casuarina scrubs, and open forest land.
I seldom saw to less distance about me than from one to two miles, or at least as far as that in some one direction. We continued to cooey frequently, and the two men were ordered to look on the ground for a horse's track.
In the centre of a small plain, where I changed my direction to the south-east, I set up a small stick with a piece of paper fixed in it, containing the following words:
Dear Cunningham,
These are my horse's tracks, follow them backwards, they will lead you to our camp, which is north-east of you.
T.L. Mitchell.
Having proceeded in the same manner seven miles to the south-east I came upon our route where it crossed Bullock creek, and there I found the two men who had been sent from the camp.
We then continued our search back along the west side of our route, the party, which now consisted of five, spreading so as to keep abreast at about 200 yards from each other, one being on the road.
NO TRACES TO BE SEEN.
We thus ascertained that no track of Mr. Cunningham's horse or of himself appeared on the soft parts of our road; and although we retraced our steps thus to where Murray, one of the men, said he saw Mr. Cunningham the last time with the party, no traces could be found of him or his horse. A kangaroo dog was also missing, and supposed to be with him.
Returning, we continued the search, and particularly to the westward of Bullock creek, where the direction of our route had been changed; but I was disappointed in all our endeavours to find any traces of him there, although I enjoyed for some time a gleam of hope on seeing the track of a horse near the bed of the creek, but it returned to our line, and was afterwards ascertained to have been made by the horse of Mr. Larmer.
Although scarcely able to walk myself from a sprain (my horse having fallen in a hole that day, and rolled on my foot) I shall never forget with what anxiety I limped along that track, which seemed to promise so well; yet we were so unsuccessful that evening, on the very ground where afterwards Mr. Cunningham's true track was found, that I could no longer imagine that our unfortunate fellow-traveller could be to the westward.
By what fatality we failed to discover the tracks afterwards found there I know not; but as the sun descended we returned once more to the camp in the hope that Mr. Cunningham might have reached it.
SUPPOSED TO HAVE MET WITH AN ACCIDENT.
That hope was soon disappointed, and I became apprehensive that some accident had befallen him. Holes in the soft surface and yawning cracks formed rather a peculiar feature in that part of the country; and as my horse had fallen both on this day and the preceding, when at a canter, and as Mr. Cunningham was often seen at that pace, it was probable that he might have met with some severe fall, and lay helpless, not far, perhaps, from where he had last been seen. The nights were cold, and I was doubtful whether he could be still alive, so difficult was it to account otherwise for his continued absence under all the circumstances.
SOUTER AND MURRAY SENT BACK ALONG THE TRACK.
April 20.
After another night of painful anxiety the dawn of the THIRD day of Mr. Cunningham's absence brought some relief, as daylight renewed the chance of finding him, or of his finding us by our line, as he might have endeavoured to retrace his steps on losing the party, or he might be on our route still farther back than we had looked; but I was desirous that the natives whom we had left at Beny might be sent in search. I despatched the Doctor and Murray back along the line, the latter saying that he knew where Mr. Cunningham had turned off the road. It was not unlikely that the horse, if he had got loose, might have returned to where he had last drunk water (20 miles distant) therefore they were directed, if traces were not found nearer, to go so far back, and to promise the natives, if they could meet with any, tomahawks, etc. if they found the white man or his horse. No other course could be imagined. The line of route, as already stated, was a beaten road, and extended north and south. To the east of it and nearly parallel, at two or three miles distance, was the dry channel (Bullock creek) which led to the Bogan; on the north was our camp and the Bogan, whose general course was west, as well as our intended route, circumstances both known to Mr. Cunningham. Southward was the marked route, and the country whence we had come. Still however I thought it so likely that he must have gone to the north-west when we changed our route to north, that I determined, although my sprained ankle was painful, to examine again, and still more extensively, the country into which such a deviation must have led him.
MY SEARCH SOUTH-SOUTH-WEST 40 MILES.
April 21.
I proceeded in a south-south-west direction (or South 17 degrees West by compass) or on a intermediate line between our route and the north-west line by which I had explored that country on the nineteenth, the men cooeying as before.
We explored every open space; and we looked into many bushes, but in vain.
I continued my journey far to the southward in order to ascertain what water was nearest in that direction, as it was probable, were any found, that Mr. Cunningham, if alive, must have reached it, and I had in vain sought his track on the other side of the country. I soon came to undulating ground or low hills of quartzose gravel without any grass, consisting of unabraded small angular fragments of quartz. I observed a few trees of the ironbark eucalyptus and pines or callitris on the highest grounds. At twenty miles from our camp we crossed a grassy flat, in which we at length found a chain of ponds falling to the south-south-east, and also about them were recent marks of natives.
INTERVIEW WITH TWO NATIVES.
At length I espied two at a distance as I proceeded along the valley. In vain we cooeyed and beckoned to them to approach; it was clear they would not come to us; on seeing which I left the men and horses and walked towards them, carrying a green bough before me. They seemed at once to understand this emblem of peace; for as soon as I was near enough for them to see it they laid down their spears and waddies, and sat down on the ground to receive me. Not a word however could they understand, being evidently quite strangers to the colonists. They were both rather old men, but very athletic, and of commanding air and stature, the body of one was painted with pipe-clay, that of the other with yellow ochre; and through these tints their well-defined muscles, firm as those of some antique torso, stood out in bold relief in the beams of the setting sun. The two made a fine group on which dress would have been quite superfluous, and absolutely a blot on the picture.
No gesture of mine could convey the idea with which I wished so much to impress them, of my search for ANOTHER WHITE MAN, and after using every kind of gesture in vain, I made a bow in despair and departed. They rose at the same time, apparently glad (from fear) to see me going, and motioned as if to say you may depart now, we are friends. One of them who sat behind and who appeared to be the older of the two had a bone-handled table-knife stuck in the band over his forehead; one had also an iron tomahawk. The rest of the tribe were concealed about, as we heard their cooeys, but no others ventured to appear. I thought I could not give them further proof of no harm being intended to them than by quietly going on my way, and I hoped that this friendly demonstration might remove any apprehensions respecting Cunningham if he chanced to meet the tribe. The greatest danger to be apprehended from natives is on a stranger first approaching them when, chiefly from fear, they are apt to act on the offensive.
Continuing on the same line I crossed another small watercourse falling north-east; and beyond it were hills of mica-schist and quartz, which sloped rather boldly to the southward. We then entered one of the finest tracts of forest land I ever saw. It was there three miles in width, and bounded on the south by another low hill of quartzose gravel, the soil of which was indifferent. We at last tied up our horses on a little patch of forest land, and laid down under a few boughs, as it was quite dark and began to rain.
RANGE OF PORPHYRY.
April 22.
After a fruitless ride of twelve more miles still further southward in pursuit of distant columns of smoke, we turned our horses' heads towards the camp on a bearing of North 56 degrees East, in which direction some summits appeared. We crossed much good whinstone land, and arrived at a small ridge where I ascended a hill consisting of a reddish granite or porphyry. From this height I again saw Harvey's and Croker's ranges and various hills to the southward, but I was disappointed in the view of the western horizon, which was confined to a very flat-topped woody range. I took as many angles as I could from a round pinnacle of porphyry which barely afforded standing room.
From this hill we saw smoke near another eminence which bore North 36 degrees East, distant about seven miles; and in that direction we proceeded (as it led homewards) but twilight overtook us as we crossed its side, on which the bushes appeared to have been recently burnt.
This hill consisted of a rock resembling felspar, and was connected with the former, which was of granite, by low hills consisting of schistus and trap. The former had good grass about it, and produced a chain of well-filled ponds, but here we found no water, having arrived so late. The country in general was (in point of grass at least) much better than the rotten ground on the banks of the Bogan. The water also, although scarce, was much better, and I heartily regretted that it was not in my power to proceed, according to my original plan, along this higher ground, in my progress towards the Darling.
April 23.
Early this morning I ascended the hill although much incommoded by my sprained ankle, which obliged me to ride my horse over rocks to the very summit. I could perceive no more smoke. The Canobolas were just visible to the right of Mount Juson. The height on which I stood seemed to be the furthest interior point of this chain whence those hills could be seen. We left the summit at nine o'clock, and proceeded towards our route on a bearing of North 17 degrees East. At ten miles we halted to allow the horses to pick some green grass in a casuarina scrub; and then, after riding two miles further, we reached our marked route, at about three miles back from Bullock creek. We saw no traces on it of the men I had sent back, for which I was at a loss to account; but I readily turned every circumstance, even my own ill success, in favour of the expectation that I should find Mr. Cunningham in the camp on my return: thus hope grew even out of disappointment.
MR. CUNNINGHAM'S TRACK FOUND.
There however I learned that the two men sent back had at length found Mr. Cunningham's track exactly where we had at first so diligently sought for it, and that they had traced it into the country which I had twice traversed in search of him in vain, and, more distressing than all, that they had been compelled to leave the track the preceding evening for want of rations! They had been however sent back to take it up, and we anxiously awaited the result.
April 24.
Late in the evening the two men (The Doctor and Murray) returned, having lost all further trace of Mr. Cunningham in a small oak scrub. They had distinctly seen the track of the dog with him, and that of his own steps beside those of the horse, as if he had been leading it.
MR. LARMER AND A PARTY SENT TO TRACE IT.
April 25.
Early this morning I despatched Mr. Larmer and The Doctor, Muirhead and Whiting, supplied with four days' provisions and water. The party was directed to look well around the scrub, and on discovering the track to follow it, wherever it led, until they found Mr. Cunningham or his remains; for in such a country I began to despair of discovering him alive after so long an absence. They did not return until the evening of the 28th, when all they brought of Mr. Cunningham was his saddle and bridle, whip, one glove, two straps, and a piece of paper folded like a letter inside of which were cut (as with a penknife) the letters N.E.
MR. CUNNINGHAM'S TRACK FOLLOWED FOR 70 MILES, HIS HORSE FOUND DEAD.
Mr. Larmer reported that, having easily found the track of the horse beyond the scrub, they had followed it until they came to where the horse lay dead, having still the saddle on and the bridle in its mouth; the whip and straps had been previously found, and from these circumstances, the tortuous track of the horse, and the absence of Mr. Cunningham's own footsteps for some way from where the horse was found; it was considered that he had either left the animal in despair, or that it had got away from him. At all events it had evidently died for want of water; but the fate of its unfortunate rider was still a mystery.
HIS OWN FOOTSTEPS TRACED.
It appeared from Mr. Larmer's map of Mr. Cunningham's track that he had deviated from our line after crossing Bullock creek, and had proceeded about fourteen miles to the north-west where marks of his having tied up his horse and lain down induced the party to believe that he had there passed the first dreary night of his wandering.
From that point he appeared to have intended to return and, by the zigzag course he took, that he had either been travelling in the dark, or looking for his own track, that he might retrace it. In this manner his steps actually approached within a mile of our route, but in such a manner that he appeared to have been going south while we were travelling north (on the 18th). Thus he had continued to travel southward, or south-south-west, full 14 miles, crossing his own track not far from where he first quitted our route. On his left he had the dry channel (Bullock creek) with the water-gumtrees (eucalypti) full in view, though without ever looking into it for water.* Had he observed this channel and followed it downwards he must have found our route; and had he traced it upwards he must have come upon the waterholes where I had an interview with the two natives, and thus, perhaps, have fallen in with me. From the marks of his horse having been tied to four different trees at the extreme southern point which he reached, it appeared that he had halted there some time, or passed there the second night. That point was not much more than half a mile to the westward of my track out on the 21st. From it he had returned, keeping still more to the westward, so that he actually fell in with my track of the 19th, and appeared to have followed it backwards for upwards of a mile, when he struck off at a rightangle to the north-west.
(*Footnote. These trees being remarkable from their white shining trunks, resembling those of beech trees; a circumstance to which, as connected with the presence of water, I had just before drawn his attention.)
It was impossible to account for this fatal deviation, even had night, as most of the party supposed, overtaken him there. It seemed that he had found my paper directing him to trace my steps backwards, and that he had been doing this where the paper marked N.E. had been found, and which I therefore considered a sort of reply to my note. If we were right as to the nights, this must have taken place on the very day on which I had passed that way, and when my eye eagerly caught at every dark-coloured distant object in hopes of finding him! After the deviation to the north-west it appears that Mr. Cunningham made some detours about a clear plain, at one side of which his horse had been tied for a considerable time, and where it is probable he had passed his third night, as there were marks where he had lain down in the long dry grass. From this point only his horse's tracks had been traced, not his own steps which had hitherto accompanied them; and from the twisting and turning of the course to where it lay dead, we supposed he had not been with the horse after it left this place. The whip and straps seemed to have been trod off from the bridle-reins to which Mr. Cunningham was in the habit of tying his whip, and to which also the straps had been probably attached, to afford the animal more room to feed when fastened to trees.
To the place therefore where Mr. Cunningham's own steps had last been seen I hastened on the morning of the 29th April with the same men, Muirhead and Whiting, who had so ably and humanely traced all the tracks of the horse, through a distance of 70 miles.
The spot seemed well chosen as a halting-place, being at a few trees which advanced beyond the rest of the wood into a rather extensive plain: a horse tied there could have been seen from almost any part around, and it is not improbable that Mr. Cunningham left the animal there fastened, and that it had afterwards got loose, and had finally perished for want of water.
We soon found the print of Mr. Cunningham's footsteps in two places: in one, coming towards the trees where the horse had been tied, from a thick scrub east of them; in the other, leading from these trees in a direction straight northward. Pursuing the latter steps we found them continuous in that direction and, indeed, remarkably long and firm, the direction being preserved even through thick brushes.
This course was direct for the Bogan; and it was evident that, urged by intense thirst, he had at length set off with desperate speed for the river, having parted from his horse, where the party had supposed. That he had killed and eaten the dog in the scrub, whence his footsteps had been seen to emerge was probable, as no trace of the animal was visible beyond it; and as it was difficult otherwise to account for his own vigorous step, after an abstinence of three days and three nights. I then regretted that I had not at the time examined the scrub but, when we were at his last camp (the trees on the plain) we were most interested in Mr. Cunningham's further course.
This we traced more than two miles, during which he had never stopped, even to look behind towards the spot where, had he left his horse, he might still have seen him. Having at length lost the track on some very hard ground we exhausted the day in a vain search for it.
MR. LARMER MEETS A TRIBE.
On returning to the camp I found that Mr. Larmer, whom I had sent with two armed men down the Bogan, had nearly been surrounded, at only three miles from our camp, by a tribe of natives carrying spears. Amongst these were two who had been with us on the previous day, and who called to the others to keep back. They told Mr. Larmer that they had seen Mr. Cunningham's track in several parts of the bed of the Bogan; that he had not been killed but had gone to the westward (pointing down the Bogan) with the Myall (i.e. wild) Blackfellows. Thus we had reason to hope that our friend had at least escaped the fate of his unfortunate horse by reaching the Bogan. This was what we wished; but no one could have supposed that he would have followed the river downwards, into the jaws of the wild natives, rather than upwards. His movements show that he believed he had deviated to the eastward of our route rather than to the westward; and this mistake accounts for his having gone down the Bogan.
Had he not pursued that fatal course, or had he killed the horse rather than the dog, and remained stationary, his life would have been saved. The result of our twelve days' delay and search was only the discovery that, had we pursued our journey down the Bogan, Mr. Cunningham would have fallen in with our track and rejoined us; and that, while we halted for him, he had gone ahead of us, and out of reach.
THE FOOTSTEPS TRACED INTO THE CHANNEL OF THE BOGAN.
April 30.
I put the party in movement along the left bank of the Bogan, its general course being north-west, and about five miles from our camp we crossed the same solitary line of shoe-marks, seen the day before, and still going due north! With sanguine hopes we traced it to a pond in the bed of the river, and the two steps by which Mr. Cunningham first reached water, and in which he must have stood while allaying his burning thirst, were very plain in the mud! The scales of some large fish lay upon them, and I could not but hope that even the most savage natives would have fed a white man circumstanced as Mr. Cunningham must then have been. Overseer Burnett, Whiting and The Doctor proceeded in search of him down the river while the party continued, as well as the dense scrubs of casuarinae permitted, in a direction parallel to its course. Just as we found Mr. Cunningham's footsteps a column of smoke arose from the woods to the southward, and I went in search of the natives, Bulger accompanying me with his musket. After we had advanced in the direction of the smoke two miles it entirely disappeared, and we could neither hear nor see any other traces of human beings in these dismal solitudes. The density of the scrubs had obliged me to make some detours to the left, so that I did not reach the Bogan till long after it was quite dark. Those who had gone in search of Mr. Cunningham did not arrive at our camp that night although we sent up several skyrockets and fired some shots.
May 1.
The party came in from tracing Mr. Cunningham's steps along the dry bed of the Bogan, and we were glad to find that the impressions continued. There appeared to be the print of a small naked foot of someone either accompanying or tracking Mr. Cunningham. At one place were the remains of a small fire, and the shells of a few mussels, as if he had eaten them. It was now most desirable to get ahead of this track, and I lost no time in proceeding, to the extent of another day's journey, parallel to the Bogan or, rather, so as to cut off a great bend of it.
DEATH OF THE KANGAROO.
We crossed some good undulating ground, open and grassy, the scenery being finer, from the picturesque grouping and character of the trees, than any we had hitherto seen. On one of these open tracts I wounded a female kangaroo at a far shot of my rifle, and the wretched animal was finally killed after a desperate fight with the dogs.
REFLECTIONS.
There is something so affecting in the silent and deadly struggle between the harmless kangaroo and its pursuers that I have sometimes found it difficult to reconcile the sympathy such a death excites with our possession of canine teeth, or our necessities, however urgent they might be.
The huntsman's pleasure is no more, indeed, when such an animal dies thus before him, persecuted alike by the civilised and the savage. In this instance a young one, warm from the pouch of its mother, frisked about at a distance, as if unwilling to leave her, although it finally escaped. The nights were cold, and I confess that thoughts of the young kangaroo did obtrude at dinner, and were mingled with my kangaroo-steak.
As we turned to our right in the afternoon in search of the Bogan, we encountered some casuarina scrub, to avoid which we had to wind a little, so that we only made the river at dusk, and at a part of the bed which was dry. Water, as we afterwards found, was near enough upwards, but the two parties sent in the evening having by mistake both sought for it in the other direction, we had none till early in the morning.
FIVE NATIVES BROUGHT TO ME WITH A SILK HANDKERCHIEF IN THEIR POSSESSION.
May 2.
Five natives were brought to me by Whiting and Tom Jones, on suspicion; one of them having a silk pocket-handkerchief which they thought might have belonged to Mr. Cunningham.
The native wore it fastened over his shoulders, and seemed so careless about our scrutiny that I could not think he had obtained the handkerchief by any violence; and still less from Mr. Cunningham, as it was engrained with a smoky tinge, apparently derived from having been long in his possession. No mark was upon it, and the only information we could obtain as to where they got it, was the answer "old fellow," and pointing to the north-east. As these men had been at some out-station of ours and could speak a little English, and as they had a young kangaroo dog called by them olony (Maloney) I did not think at the time that the handkerchief had belonged to Mr. Cunningham; and the men appointed to attend him declared they had never seen that handkerchief in his hands.
THEIR NAMES.
These five natives were overtaken suddenly at a waterhole two miles lower down the Bogan. The name of him with the handkerchief was Werrajouit, those of the other four Yarree Buckenba and Tackijally Buckenba (brothers) Youimooba, and Werrayoy (youths). The most intelligent was Tackijally, and even he understood but little, not enough to comprehend anything I said about the white man lost in the bush.
To secure their goodwill and best services however I immediately gave them three tomahawks; and when Yarree Buckenba took a new handkerchief from my pocket I presented him with it. They accompanied us when we moved forward to encamp nearer water.
THE PARTY HALT AT CUDDULDURY.
We passed a small pond, the name of which was Burdenda, and afterwards came to Cudduldury where we encamped with the intention of making what further search we could for Mr. Cunningham.
INTERVIEW WITH THE KING OF THE BOGAN.
While the men were pitching the tents at this place I rode with the natives, at their request, towards some ponds lower down. There, by their cooeys and their looks, they seemed to be very anxious about somebody in the bush beyond the Bogan. I expected to see their chief; at all events from these silent woods something was to emerge in which my guides were evidently much interested, as they kept me waiting nearly an hour for
The unseen genius of the wood.
At length a man of mild but pensive countenance, athletic form, and apparently about fifty years of age, came forth, leading a very fine boy, so dressed with green boughs that only his head and legs remained uncovered; a few emu-feathers being mixed with the wild locks of his hair. I received him in this appropriate costume, as a personification of the green bough, or emblem of peace.*
(*Footnote. The Grecians used to supplicate with green boughs in their hands, and crowns upon their heads, chiefly of olive or laurel, whence Statius says:Mite nemus circa ----
Vittatae laurus, et supplicis arbor olivae.)
One large feather decked the brow of the chief; which with his nose, was tinged with yellow ochre. Having presented the boy to me, he next advanced with much formality towards the camp, having Tackijally on his right, the boy walking between, and rather in advance of both, each having a hand on his shoulder.
The boy's face had a holiday look of gladness, but the chief remained so silent and serious, without however any symptoms of alarm, that my recollections of him then, and as he appeared next day, when better acquainted, are as of two distinct persons.
To this personage all the others paid the greatest deference, and it is worthy of remark that they always refused to tell his name, or that of several others, while those of some of the tribe were familiar in our mouths as household words. The boy, who was called Talambe Nadoo, was not his son; but he took particular care of him. This tribe gloried in the name of Myall, which the natives nearer to the colony apply in terror and abhorrence to the wild blackfellows, to whom they usually attribute the most savage propensities.
Not a word could this chief of the Myalls speak besides his own language; and his slow and formal approach indicated that it was undoubtedly the first occasion on which he had seen white men. It was evident at once that he was not the man to wander to stock-stations; and that, whatever others of his race might do, he preferred an undisputed sway:
Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds.
Numbers of the tribe came about us, but they retired at the chief's bidding. Not one however except those first met with in the Bogan, could speak any of the jargon by which the natives usually communicate with the stockmen.
MUIRHEAD AND WHITING SENT TO EXAMINE THE DRY CHANNEL OF THE RIVER.
We could not make them understand that we were in search of one of our party who was lost; neither could Muirhead and Whiting, who were returning to follow up Mr. Cunningham's track, prevail on any of these natives to accompany them.
May 3.
The two men having departed to take up Mr. Cunningham's track, I must here observe that the footsteps had not been discovered in the Bogan, either at our last camp or at this, although Whiting and Tom Jones had been in search of them when they found the man with a handkerchief; it was therefore most important to ascertain, if possible, where and under what circumstances the footsteps disappeared. The skill with which these men had followed the slightest impressions was remarkable; and I fixed my hopes on the result of their further exertions.
SEARCH EXTENDED TO THE PLAINS OF THE LACHLAN.
I cannot say that I then expected they would find Mr. Cunningham, conceiving it was more probable that he had left the Bogan and gone northward towards our stations on the Macquarie, a river distant only a short day's journey from the Bogan. My anxiety about him was embittered with regret at the inauspicious delay of our journey which his disappearance had occasioned; and I was too impatient on both subjects to be able to remain inactive at the camp. I therefore set out, followed by two men on horseback, with the intention of reconnoitring the country to the southward, taking with us provisions for two days. After riding 17 miles, the first eight through thick scrub, we came into a more open and elevated country where we saw pigeons, as sign that water was not distant on some side of us. The hills were covered with a quartzose soil, containing angular fragments. The Callitris pyramidalis and the Sterculia heterophylla were among the trees. At 19 miles we crossed some dry ponds in open forest ground, and we then continued along fine flats for five miles more, when we again intersected the dry bed of the creek.
CAMP OF NATIVES.
Still pursuing the same direction, and having the watercourse near us on the left, we passed (at the distance of 26 miles) some native fires; but I was too anxious to examine the country before me to stop, although I saw some of the natives seated by them.
PASS THE NIGHT IN A HOLLOW WITHOUT WATER.
We soon after ascended a low ridge of mica-slate; beyond which we came again on the dry creek, and after crossing it several times we finally lay down for the night in its bed (which afforded the best grass) 33 miles from the party at Cudduldury. Although this watercourse was perfectly dry throughout yet it was an interesting feature in a valley enclosed on each side by undulating hills of mica-slate; and I thought of continuing in its course next morning, in hopes it might at last lead to some chain of ponds falling westward.
May 4.
Our horses had fared but indifferently as to grass, and they had no water until this morning when we spared to each about half a gallon of what we carried; but this supply seemed only to make them more thirsty. As soon as it was clear daylight we continued in the direction of the creek; but although its bed deepened and at one place (much trodden by the natives) we discovered a hole which had only recently dried up, still we found no water. Further on the recent marks of the natives and their huts also were numerous; but how they existed in this parched country was the question! We saw that around many trees the roots had been taken up, and we found them without the bark and cut into short clubs or billets, but for what purpose we could not then discover. At eleven o'clock I changed my course to 300 degrees from north and, after travelling about three miles in that direction, I descried a goodly hill on my left, and soon after several others, one of which was bare of trees on the summit. After so long a journey over unvarying flats, we had at length come rather unawares, as it seemed, into a hilly country, the heights of which were bold, rocky, and of considerable elevation. I should estimate the summit of that which we ascended was 730 feet above the lower country at its base. The dry creek which had led us towards these hills from such a distance northward, had vanished through them somewhere to our left; and, bold as the range was, still we could see no better promise of water than what this seemed to afford.
VIEW TOWARDS MOUNT GRANARD.
The summit up which we forced our horses over very sharp rocks commanded a most extensive and magnificent view of hills, both eastward and westward. The country in the north, whence we had come, was nevertheless higher, although the horizon there was unbroken. Southward the general line of horizon was a low level on which the hills terminated, as if it had been the sea. There, I had no doubt, flowed the river Lachlan, and, probably, one of the highest of the hills was Mount Granard of Oxley. Towards the east the most elevated hill bore 142 degrees 30 minutes from North, and was at a distance of about 12 miles. It was a remarkable mass of yellow rock, naked and herbless, as if nature there had not yet finished her work. That hill had an isolated appearance; others to the westward were pointed, and smoke arose from almost every summit, even from the highest part of the mass on which we stood. Some sharp-edged rocks prevented us from riding to where the smoke appeared, and I was too lame to go on foot. No natives were visible, and I could not comprehend what they could be all about on the various rugged summits whence smoke arose; as these people rather frequent valleys and the vicinity of ponds of water. The region I now overlooked was beautifully diversified with hill and dale, still I could not discover much promise of water; but as smoke ascended from one flat to the westward I conjectured that we might there find a pool, but it was too far distant to be then of use to us. The general direction of hills appeared to be 318 degrees from north; that of the continuation westward of the flat higher land, North 343 degrees. A broad and extensive smoke was rising from the country where we had slept and towards which I was about to return by a direct course from this hill (North 56 degrees East).
A SECOND NIGHT WITHOUT WATER.
Accordingly we travelled until night overtook us in an extensive casuarina scrub, where we tied our horses, and made our fire, after a ride of at least 40 miles.
AWOKE BY THE FOREST ON FIRE.
During the night we were made aware, by the crackling of falling timber, that a conflagration was approaching, and one of us by turns watched, while the others slept with their arms at hand. The state of our horses, from want of water, was by no means promising for the long journey which was necessary to enable us to reach home next day; a circumstance on which the lives of these animals in all probability depended, especially as the grass here was very indifferent. We had also little more than a pint of water for each horse; and it was difficult to give that scanty allowance to any one of the animals in sight of the others, so furious were they on seeing it.
May 5.
Proceeding in search of our first day's track we entered almost immediately the burning forest. We perceived that much pains had been taken by the natives to spread the fire, from its burning in separate places.
Huge trees fell now and then with a crashing sound, loud as thunder, while others hung just ready to fall, and as the country was chiefly open forest, the smoke, at times, added much sublimity to the scenery.
INTERVIEW WITH THREE NATIVES.
We travelled five miles through this fire and smoke, all the while in expectation of coming unawares upon the natives who had been so busy in annoying us. At length we saw the huts which we had passed the day before, and soon after three natives, who immediately got behind trees as we advanced; but although one ran off, yet the others answered my cooey, and I went towards them on foot, with a green branch. They seemed busy, digging at the root of a large tree; but on seeing me advance they came forward with a fire-stick and sat down; I followed their example, but the cordiality of our meeting could be expressed only by mutual laughing.
They were young men, yet one was nearly blind from ophthalmia or filth. I called up one of my men and gave a tomahawk to the tallest of these youths, making what signs I could to express my thirst and want of water.
ROOTS OF TREES SUCKED BY THE NATIVES.
Looking as if they understood me, they hastened to resume their work, and I discovered that they dug up the roots for the sake of drinking the sap. It appeared that they first cut these roots into billets, and then stripped off the bark or rind, which they sometimes chew, after which, holding up the billet and applying one end to the mouth, they let the juice drop into it. We now understood for what purpose the short clubs which we had seen the day before had been cut. The youths resumed their work the moment they had received the tomahawk without looking more at us or at the tool. I thought this nonchalance rather singular, and attributed their assiduity either to a desire to obtain for us some of the juice, which would have been creditable to their feelings; or to the necessity for serving some more powerful native who had set them to that work. One had gone, apparently to call the tribe, so I continued my journey without further delay. We soon regained our track of the first day, and I followed it with some impatience back to the camp.
HORSES REACH THE CAMP WITH GREAT DIFFICULTY.
My horse had been ill on the second day, and as this was the third on which it, as well as the others, had gone without water, they were so weak that, had we been retarded by any accident another night in the bush, we must have lost them all. They could be driven on only with difficulty, nevertheless we reached the camp before sunset.
PART OF MR. CUNNINGHAM'S COAT FOUND.
The tidings brought by the men sent after Mr. Cunningham's footsteps were still most unsatisfactory. They had followed the river bed back for the first twelve miles from our camp without finding in it a single pond. They had traced the continuation of his track to where it disappeared near some recent fires where many natives had been encamped. Near one of these fires they found a portion of the skirt or selvage of Mr. Cunningham's coat; numerous small fragments of his map of the colony; and, in the hollow of a tree, some yellow printed paper in which he used to carry the map. The men examined the ground for half a mile all around without finding more of his footsteps, or any traces of him besides those mentioned. It was possible and indeed, as I then thought, probable, that having been deprived by the natives of his coat, he might have escaped from them by going northward towards some of the various cattle stations on the Macquarie. I learnt that when the men returned with these vestiges of poor Cunningham, there was great alarm amongst the natives, and movements by night, when the greater part of the tribe decamped, and amongst them the fellow with the handkerchief who never again appeared. The chief, or king (as our people called him) continued with us, and seemed quite unconscious of anything wrong. This tribe seemed too far from the place where the native camp had been to be suspected of any participation in the ill treatment with which we had too much reason to fear Mr. Cunningham had met. As we had no language to explain even that one of our party was missing, I could only hope that, by treating these savages kindly, they might be more disposed, should they ever see or hear of Mr. Cunningham, to assist him to rejoin us. To delay the party longer was obviously unnecessary; and indeed the loss of more time must have defeated the object of the expedition, considering our limited stock of provisions.
I therefore determined on proceeding by short journeys along the Bogan, accompanied by these natives, not altogether without the hope that Mr. Cunningham might still be brought to us by some of them.
CHAPTER 2.4.
Continue along the Bogan, guided by the natives.
Their caution in approaching the haunts of others.
Their accurate knowledge of localities.
Introduced to the Bungan tribe.
Superiority of the King how displayed.
Dangerous mistake.
A true savage.
The king of the Bogan takes his leave.
Kangaroos numerous.
Beauty of the shrubs.
Dangerous consequence of surprising a native.
Wounded native led to our camp.
His confidence gained by kind treatment.
Oxley's Tableland.
Mr. Larmer's excursion to it.
Narrow escape from the loss of the cattle.
The party followed by a clamorous tribe.
A parley.
Their various complexions.
Decorous behaviour.
Naked plains.
A native visitor.
Soft earth of the plains.
Ride to the Darling.
The water sweet.
The party encamps on a favourable position on the river.
CONTINUE ALONG THE BOGAN, GUIDED BY THE NATIVES.
May 6.
Guided by Tackijally we proceeded, crossing the Bogan for the first time and travelling along its right bank to Bugubada, a distance of eight miles.
May 7.
Proceeded, again accompanied by Tackijally, under the orders of the king, who compelled him to go, although he seemed very unwilling or lazy. The advantage of having such guides was that being now uncertain as to the further course of the Bogan, which had taken a great bend northward, we could thus make straight for each proposed waterhole without following the bends of the river. The knowledge of the people was so exact as to localities that I could ascertain in setting out the true bearing of those places by the direction in which they pointed; and in travelling on such a bearing any obstacle in the way was sure to be avoided by following the suggestions of the natives. In this manner we now travelled.
THEIR CAUTION IN APPROACHING THE HAUNTS OF OTHERS.
Another great advantage gained in the company of the natives was our being perfectly safe from the danger of sudden collision with a tribe. Their caution in approaching waterholes was most remarkable; for they always cooeyed from a great distance, and even on coming near a thick scrub they would sometimes request me to halt until they could examine it. This day we passed, in the channel of the Bogan, a long and deep reach or lagoon, called Muda, of which the natives had made much mention; but to have remained at this water would have made the day's journey too short; so we proceeded to a smaller hole named Walwadyer, having crossed and recrossed the dry channel of the Bogan.
May 8.
Tackijally, who had of late steadily conducted us to water, came up when we were ready to start, and showed me the direction in which I was to find water at the end of the day's journey which appeared to be, as he pointed, 343 degrees. He then held up the opossum skins of his cloak, making signs in that manner that he went to seek opossums, but should rejoin us afterwards.
We twice crossed the Bogan in the first half mile, and then traversed an open plain, the surface of which was flat, firm, and nearly bare. As we reached the northern skirts the king, with Talambe Nadoo and Tackijally, rejoined us.
THEIR ACCURATE KNOWLEDGE OF LOCALITIES.
At four miles we passed a good pond called Daumbwan. We encamped further on at a place called Murrebouga where there was a large pond, the direct distance from Walwadyer being 5 1/4 miles; and it was a curious test of the accuracy of the native's local knowledge that, although he recommended this pond of Murrebouga by merely pointing in its direction, I had, by following with compass the course indicated, hit the very pond to which he meant us to go.
INTRODUCED TO THE BUNGAN TRIBE.
May 9.
Again guided by Tackijally we travelled towards Darobal, the distance being 7 1/4 miles. We several times crossed the bed of the Bogan, and in this day's journey we were joined by Dalumbe Tuganda and others of the Bungan tribe to whom the chief was anxious to introduce us.
SUPERIORITY OF THE KING HOW DISPLAYED.
We had this day an opportunity of witnessing his superiority in those qualifications by which he was, no doubt, distinguished among the savage tribes. We had overtaken a strong man with a bad countenance, prowling along through the bush; and being, as it appeared, a friend of the king's, he continued with us. An opossum in a tree had baffled all the endeavours of himself and some young men to get at it, when they cooeyed for the king. Our royal friend came, climbed the tree in an instant, and after a cursory examination, dropped some small sticks down the hollow of the trunk; then listening, he pointed, as by instinct, to a part of the tree much lower down where, by making a small incision, the others immediately got the animal out.
May 10.
We moved (on 345 degrees) for Nyngan, which we reached at half-past twelve. We passed on our left Borribilu, and there I was introduced by the king to a new tribe. On first espying these people seated under a tree at a great distance near the river-bank, he directed my attention that way by using the same gestures which he was accustomed to make in giving me notice of a kangaroo or emu.
DANGEROUS MISTAKE.
I accordingly left my horse, going cautiously forward with my rifle. The chief however kept by me, anxiously calling out with a pathetic voice "Myen, myen," which words, as I afterwards learnt, meant Men! men! But it was not until a thought had passed in my mind of firing among the group, that I had the good fortune to discover my mistake. The figures seated and covered with grey clay had very much the resemblance of a grey species of kangaroo which we had often seen on the Bogan. I then went forward with him, and was received with the most demure inattention; that is to say, by the natives sitting cross-legged, with their eyes fixed on the ground, which it appeared was their formal mode of expressing respect or consideration for strangers when first received.
Nyngan was a long pond of water on which were many ducks, and those birds called in the colony native companions.
A TRUE SAVAGE.
The blacks sat down at a fire nearer to us than usual, and the strong man with a bad countenance particularly attracted my attention.
I prevailed on him to sit until I sketched his face; for which piece of civility I gave him a tomahawk. Late at night, when I was about to go to sleep, he came softly up to my tent, demanding something in a whisper. I showed him my rifle, and gave the man on watch strict orders to look sharp. This savage was twice afterwards caught about the carts during the night, and in the morning he was seen pointing out to other natives the cart on which the flour was placed. I never saw a worse countenance on any native; and I was deprived even of the slight comfort of a doubt as to poor Cunningham's fate on looking at it.