The Mammoth Book of Travel in Dangerous Places (58 page)

Friday, June 21
Last night was cold and clear, winding up with a strong wind from N.E. in the morning. I feel much weaker than ever, and can scarcely crawl out of the
mia-mia. Unless relief comes in some form or other, I cannot possibly last more than a fortnight. It is a great consolation, at least, in this position of ours, to know that we have done all we
could, and that our deaths will rather be the result of the mismanagement of others than of any rash acts of our own. Had we come to grief elsewhere, we could only have blamed ourselves; but here
we are, returned to Cooper’s Creek, where we had every reason to look for provisions and clothing; and yet we have to die of starvation, in spite of the explicit instructions given by Mr.
Burke, that the depôt party should await our return, and the strong recommendation to the committee that we should be followed up by a party from Menindie.

Saturday, June 22
Night cloudy and warm. Every appearance of rain. Thunder once or twice during the night. Clouds moving in an easterly direction. Lower atmosphere
perfectly calm. There were a few drops of rain during the night, and in the morning, about nine a.m., there was every prospect of more rain until towards noon, when the sky cleared up for a time.
Mr. Burke and King out for nardoo. The former returned much fatigued. I am so weak to-day as to be unable to get on my feet.

Sunday, June 23
All hands at home. I am so weak as to be incapable of crawling out of the mia-mia. King holds out well, but Mr. Burke finds himself weaker every day.

Monday, June 24
A fearful night. At about an hour before sunset, a southerly gale sprang up and continued throughout the greater portion of the night; the cold was intense, and it seemed
as if one would be shrivelled up. Towards morning, it fortunately lulled a litde, but a strong cold breeze continued till near sunset, after which it became perfectly calm. King went out for
nardoo, in spite of the wind, and came in with a good load, but he himself terribly cut up. He says that he can no longer keep up the work, and as he and Mr. Burke are both getting rapidly weaker,
we have but a slight chance of anything but starvation, unless we can get hold of some blacks.

Tuesday, June 23
(
sic
) Night calm, clear, and intensely cold, especially towards morning. Near daybreak, King reported seeing a moon in the E., with a haze of light stretching up
from it, he declared it to be quite as large as the moon, and not dim at the edges. I am so weak that any attempt to get a sight of it was out of the question; but I think it must have been Venus
in the zodiacal light that he saw, with a corona around her. Mr. Burke and King remain at home cleaning and pounding seed. They are both getting weaker every day. The cold plays the deuce with us,
from the small amount of clothing we have. My wardrobe consists of a wide-a-awake, a merino shirt, a regatta shirt without sleeves, the remains of a pair of flannel trousers, two pairs of socks in
rags, and a waistcoat of which I have managed to keep the pockets together. The others are no better off. Besides these we have between us for bedding, two small camel pads, some horsehair, two or
three little bits of a rag, and pieces of oilcloth saved from the fire. The day turned out nice and warm.

Wednesday, June 24
(
sic
) Calm night; sky overcast with hazy clouds. An easterly breeze sprang up towards morning, making the air much colder. Mr. Burke and King are preparing to go
up the creek in search of the blacks. They will leave me some nardoo, wood and water, with which I must do the best I can until they return. I think this is almost our only chance. I feel myself,
if anything, rather better, but I cannot say stronger. The nardoo is beginning to agree better with me; but without some change I see little chance for any of us. They have both shown great
hesitation and reluctance with regard to leaving me, and have repeatedly desired my candid opinion in the matter. I could only repeat, however, that I considered it our only chance, for I could not
last long on the nardoo, even if a supply could be kept up.

Thursday, June 25
(
sic
) Cloudy, calm, and comparatively warm night, clouds almost stationary. In the morning a gentle breeze from east. Sky partially cleared up during the day,
making it pleasantly warm and bright, it remained clear during the afternoon and evening, offering every prospect of a clear cold night.

Friday, June 26
(
sic
) Clear cold night, slight breeze from the E., day beautifully warm and pleasant. Mr. Burke suffers greatly from the cold, and is getting extremely weak; he and
King start tomorrow up the creek, to look for the blacks – it is the only chance we have of being saved from starvation. I am weaker than ever although I have a good appetite, and relish the
nardoo much, but it seems to give us no nutriment, and the birds here are so shy as not to be got at. Even if we got a good supply of fish, I doubt whether we could do much work on them and the
nardoo alone. Nothing now but the greatest good luck can now save any of us; and as for myself, I may live four or five days if the weather continues warm. My pulse are at forty-eight, and very
weak, and my legs and arms are nearly skin and bone. I can only look out, like Mr. Micawber, "for something to turn up;" but starvation on nardoo is by no means very unpleasant, but for the
weakness one feels, and the utter inability to move oneself, for as far as appetite is concerned, it gives me the greatest satisfaction. Certainly, fat and sugar would be more to one’s taste,
in fact, those seem to me to be the great stand by for one in this extraordinary continent; not that I mean to depreciate the farinacious food, but the want of sugar and fat in all substances
obtainable here is so great that they become almost valueless to us as articles of food, without the addition of something else.

(Signed) W. J. W
ILLS
.

TO SEE THE SEA

John McDouall Stuart

(1815–66)

Modest, dedicated, immensely tough and thoroughly congenial, Stuart was very much an explorer’s explorer. With little support or fuss he began probing north from
Adelaide in the late 1850s. In 1860 he was the first to reach the centre of the continent, thus completing the work of Sturt whom he had accompanied in 1844–5. Although Burke and Wills just
beat him in the race to cross the continent, Stuart’s 1862 route was much longer and more difficult; and he did actually reach the sea (down the Adelaide river in Arnhem Land). He was also to
return alive.

S
aturday, 19th July, Lily Marsh, Adelaide River
Started at 9.10., course 20° east of north. At three miles crossed some stony rises and
broad alluvial grassy valleys; at four miles met the river, had to go half a mile to the south-east to round it. Again changed to my first course; at seven miles and a half crossed a creek with
water. The country to this is good, with occasionally a little ironstone and gravel, timber of stringy-bark, and a little low gum scrub. Having crossed this creek, we ascended a sandy table land
with an open forest of stringy bark (good timber), palms, gums, other trees and bushes; it has been lately burnt, but the roots of the grass abound. This continued for about three miles. There is a
small stony range of hills to the west, which at the end of the three miles dropped into a grassy plain of a beautiful black alluvial soil, covered with lines and groves of the cabbage palm trees,
which give it a very picturesque appearance; its dip is towards the river; in two miles crossed it, and again ascended low table land of the very same description as the other. At fourteen miles
struck another creek with water, and camped. The country gone over to-day, though not all of the very best description, has plains in it of the very finest kind-even the sandy table-land bears an
abundant crop of grass. The trees are so thick that I can get no view of the surrounding country; the tall beautiful palm grows in this creek. Native smoke about, but we have not seen any natives.
There are large masses of volcanic rock on the sides of this creek. At about a mile to the eastward is a large body of springs that supply water to this creek, which I have named “Anna
Creek.” Camped at ten minutes to three o’clock. Wind variable. Latitude, 12° 39' 7".

Sunday, 20th July, Anna Creek
The mosquitoes at this camp have been most annoying; scarcely one of us has been able to close his eyes in sleep during the whole night: I never found them
so bad anywhere – night and day they are at us. The grass in, and on the banks of, this creek is six feet high; to the westward there are long reaches of water, and the creek very thickly
timbered with melaleuca, gum, stringy-bark, and palms. Wind, south-east.

Monday, 21st July, Anna Creek and Springs
Again passed a miserable night with the mosquitoes. Started at eight o’clock; course, north-north-west. At three miles came upon another
extensive freshwater marsh, too boggy to cross. There is rising ground to the north–west and north; the river seems to run between. I can see clumps of bamboos and trees, by which I suppose
it runs at about a mile to the north-north-west. The ground for the last three miles is of a sandy nature, and light-brown colour, with ironstone gravel on the surface, volcanic rock occasionally
cropping out. The borders of the marsh are of the richest description of black alluvial soil, and when the grass has sprung after it has been burnt, it has the appearance of a rich and very thick
crop of green wheat. I am now compelled to alter my course to 30° south of east, to get across a water creek coming into the marsh, running deep, broad and boggy, and so thick with trees,
bushes, and strong vines interwoven throughout it, that it would take a day to cut a passage through. At three miles we crossed the stream, and proceeded again on the north-north-west course, but
at a mile and a half were stopped by another creek of the same description. Changed to east, and at half a mile was able to cross it also, and again went on my original bearing. Continued on it for
three miles, when we were again stopped by another running stream, but this one I was able to cross without going far out of my course. Proceeded on the north-north-west course, passing over
elevated ground of the same description as the first three miles. At seventeen miles came upon a thick clump of trees, with beautiful palms growing amongst them; examined it and found it to have
been a spring, but now dry. Proceeded on another mile, and was again stopped by what seemed to be a continuation of the large marsh; we now appeared to have got right into the middle of it. It was
to be seen to the south-west, north-east, and south-east of us. Camped on a point of rising ground running into it. The timber on the rises between the creeks is stringy-bark, small gums, and in
places a nasty scrub, very sharp, which tore a number of our saddle-bags: it is a very good thing the patches of it are not broad. The grass, where it has not been burned, is very thick and high
– up to my shoulder when on horseback. About a mile from here, to the west, I can see what appears to be the water of the river, running through clumps of trees and bamboos, beyond which, in
the distance, are courses of low rising ground, in places broken also with clumps of trees; the course of the river seems to be north-north-west. On the east side of the marsh is also rising
ground; the marsh in that direction seems to run five or six miles before it meets the rising ground, and appears after that to come round to the north. Nights cool. Latitude, 12° 28' 19".
Wind, south-east.

Tuesday, 22nd July, Fresh-water Marsh
As the marsh seems to run so much to the east, and not knowing how much further I shall have to go to get across the numerous creeks that appear to
come into it, I shall remain here to-day and endeavour to find a road through it to the river, and follow up the banks if I can. I have a deal of work to do to the plan, and our bags require
mending. After collecting the horses, Thring tried to cross the marsh to the river, and succeeded in reaching its banks, finding firm ground all the way; the breadth of the river here being about a
hundred yards, very deep, and running with some velocity, the water quite fresh. He having returned with this information, I sent him, King, and Frew, mounted on the strongest horses, to follow the
banks of the river till noon, to see if there is any obstruction to prevent my travelling by its banks. In two hours they returned with the sad tidings that the banks were broken down by
watercourses, deep, broad, and boggy; this is a great disappointment, for it will take me a day or two longer than I expected in reaching the sea-coast, in consequence of having to go a long way
round to clear the marsh and creeks. The edge of the marsh was still of the same rich character, and covered with luxuriant grass. The rise we are camped on is also the same, with ironstone gravel
on the surface; this seems to have been a favourite camping-place for a large number of natives. There is a great quantity of fish bones, mussel, and turtle shells, at a little distance from the
camp, close to where there was some water. There are three poles fixed in the ground, forming an equilateral triangle, on the top of which was a framework of the same figure, over which were placed
bars of wood: its height from the ground eight feet. This has apparently been used by them for smoke-drying a dead blackfellow. We have seen no natives since leaving the Roper, although their smoke
is still round about us. On and about the marsh are large flocks of geese, ibis, and numerous other aquatic birds; they are so wild that they will not allow us to come within shot of them. Mr.
Kekwick has been successful in shooting a goose; it has a peculiar-shaped head, having a large horny lump on the top resembling a topknot, and only a very small web at the root of his toes. The
river opposite this, about a yard from the bank, is nine feet deep. Wind variable. Night cool.”