The sea mouth of the Murray, famous for the tragical events that have occurred near it, and which give a melancholy interest to the spot, is in long. 138 degrees 56 minutes and in lat. 35 degrees 32 minutes. No one could, I am sure, look on the foaming waters of that wild line of sand-hills through which it has forced a channel, without deep feelings of awe and emotion. Directly open to the Southern Ocean, the swell that rolls into Encounter Bay, is of the heaviest description. The breakers rise to the height of fifteen or eighteen feet before they burst in one unbroken line as far as the eye can see, and as the southerly is the most prevailing wind on that part of the Australian coast, it is only during the summer season, and after several days of northerly wind that the sea subsides, and the roar of breakers ceases for a time. The reader will perhaps bear in mind that the channel of the Goolwa connects Lake Victoria with Encounter Bay, the sea mouth of the Murray being the outlet through which its waters are discharged into the ocean.
The channel of the Goolwa (now called Port Pullen, in compliment to an officer of that name on the marine survey staff of the province, who succeeded, after several disappointments, in taking a small cutter through that narrow passage, and navigating her across the lake into the Murray River, as high as the settlement of Moorundi) is to the westward of the sea mouth as the Coorong is to the eastward. [Note 12. below]
[Note 12. The compliment thus paid to Mr. Pullen, who is now employed on the expedition to the North Pole, in search of Sir John Franklin, by Col. Gawler, the then Governor, was well merited, as a reward for the perseverance and patience he had shewn on the occasion--for those only who have been at the spot can form an idea of the disturbed and doubtful character of the place, and the risk there must have been in the attempt to enter such a passage for the first time.]
But although Mr. Pullen succeeded in getting into the Goolwa, it was only under the most favourable circumstances, nor will the sea mouth of the Murray ever, I fear, be available for navigable purposes. How far it may be practicable to steamers, I would not hazard an opinion, nor is the subject at the present moment one of much importance, for the country to the eastward of the ranges is not yet sufficiently located to call for such a speculation.
The sea mouth of the Murray is about the third of a mile in breadth, and when the river is flooded a strong current runs out of it with such rapidity, that the tide setting in at the same time causes a short and bubbling sea. It took Captain Barker nine minutes and fifty-eight seconds to swim across it on the fatal occasion on which he lost his life--but he was obliged to go somewhat above the outlet, as the stream would otherwise have carried him amidst the breakers. The western shore is very low, but the eastern one is marked by a large sandhill, now called Barker's Knoll, after that talented and amiable officer. From seaward, nothing but a wild line of sand-hills meets the view, such as few mariners would venture to approach, and through which fewer still could hope to find a passage into the calmer waters of Lake Victoria, so completely hidden is the entrance. It was only by patient watching indeed, that Mr. Pullen seized the opportunity by which he entered the Goolwa. He was not the first, however, who did so, as Captain Gill, the master of a small cutter that was unfortunately wrecked on the strand at some distance to the eastward of the outlet, was the first to come down the Coorong in his boat, in which he ultimately reached Victor Harbour, but he also had to remain three weeks under the sand-hills before he could venture forth. Some years prior to this, however, Sir John Jeffcott, the first judge of South Australia, and Captain Blenkensorf, the head of the fishery, both found a watery grave in attempting to pass from the Goolwa into Encounter Bay.
I speak more particularly on the point, however, because, in 1838, during my first visit to the province, I went with a party of hardy seamen, with the intention, if possible, of passing into the Goolwa from seaward. At Encounter Bay, Captain Hart, who had the superintendence of the fishery there, gave me his most experienced steersman, and a strong whale-boat. In this I left Victor harbour for Freeman's Nob, a small rocky point in the very bight of Encounter Bay, where I remained until three a.m. of the next morning, when I started for the outlet under the most favourable auspices. A northerly wind had been blowing off the land for several days, and the sea was so tranquil that I had every hope of success. I had five leagues to pull, and keeping about a mile from the shore, swept rapidly along it. We were still about four miles from the inlet when the sun rose over it, as if encouraging us onwards. On approaching it at low water, I tried in vain to enter. The sea was breaking heavily right across the entrance from one side to the other, and after several ineffectual attempts to run in, I came to an anchor, close to the outer line of breakers, hoping that the sea would subside at high water and that we should then have less difficulty. We had not, however, been in this position more than half an hour, when a heavy southerly swell set in; from a deep blue the water became green, and the wind suddenly flew round to the S.W. Before we could weigh and stand out from the shore, several seas had broken outside of us, and in less than ten minutes the whole coast, to the distance of more than a mile from the shore, was white with foam, and it seemed clear that a gale was coming on. Under these circumstances I determined on returning to the little harbour from which we had started in the morning, but the wind being directly against us, we made very little head. "We shall never get to the Nob," said Mr. Witch, who had the steer oar, to me; "it blows too hard, Sir." "What are we to do, then?" said I. "Why, Sir," he replied, "we must either beach or run out to sea," "We will beach, then," I said; "it is better to try that than to do any thing else." Mr Witch evinced some surprise at my decision, but made no remark. "You had better select your place," I observed, "and be careful to keep the boat's head well on to the seas." "You need not fear me, Sir," said the hardy seaman; "I am accustomed to such work. It looks worse than it really is." The sea, however, was now breaking full a mile and a half from the shore, and in looking towards it I observed a solitary horseman riding slowly along, as if watching our movements. At length Mr. Witch said that he thought we were opposite to a favourable spot, on which I directed him to put the boat's head towards the shore, and to keep her end on as he went in. Round we flew, and in a moment after we were running at railway speed on the top of a heavy wave. "Steady, men," said Mr. Witch: "Steady all," and on we went; but looking round him a moment after--"Back, all. Back, all," he cried. The men did as they were ordered, and the boat's way was stopped. Her stern rose almost perpendicularly over the prow, and the next moment fell into the trough of the sea. The wave, transparent as bottle glass, rushed past us, and topping, as it is called, burst at our very bow, in a broad sheet of foam. "Give way, my lads," was the next order of the watchful steersman, as he again cast his eyes behind him. "Give way, my lads. Give way, all." "Steady, men," he called, as if doubtful of the result of the coming wave. I thought I saw paleness on the face of the rowers, but they pulled regularly and well, and a thundering sound soon told us we had escaped the threatening sea that had come so rapidly up. I do not know if I am doing justice to the occurrence. There was more of apparent than real danger in it, and I myself was less nervous, because I had not long before been accustomed to the heavy surf of Norfolk Island. It was, however, a moment of great excitement. We had literally shot towards the shore, and were now within fifty yards of it, when Mr. Witch said to me, "Take care of yourself, Sir; we shall catch it at last."
I turned round, and saw a large roller close upon us, just on the point of topping--I had scarcely time to stoop and give my back to it when it came upon us, and I never had such a thump in my life. The boat was filled in a moment and we were all thrown out--Mr. Witch, who had been standing, was hurled to a great distance, but the men were up in a moment, the water being about four feet deep, and with admirable dexterity ran her on the beach. I do not remember ever having been in so strong a breeze. The reader may form some idea of it when I assure him that the wind rolled the boat over and over as if she had been as light as a carpenter's chip, and the sand and pebbles came with such violence in our faces, that we were obliged to retreat behind the sand hills until it moderated.
It was my friend Mr. Strangways who had accompanied me from Adelaide, whose figure we had seen on the beach, and he assured me that we seemed to fly as we approached him.
The wind having apparently flown permanently round to the south, and it being hopeless to expect that the sea would subside for many days, I hauled the boat over the sand hills, and launching her in the Goolwa, tried to row through the outlet to sea, but after remaining for eight days, and having my boat four times swamped, I was forced to give up the attempt as I had no time to spare. The distance between my outer and inner points might have been a cable's length. In endeavouring to pass out I shoaled to a quarter less one, having kept the lead constantly going. I abandoned the task therefore under an impression that the outlet was not navigable, yet Mr. Pullen succeeded in taking a small cutter into the Goolwa with perfect safety. I cannot but conclude therefore that it has a shifting bar, and that it will present difficulties to regular navigation that will only be surmounted by a better knowledge of its locality, and in all probability by artificial means.
From Freeman's Nob the coast line turns southwards to Rosetta Head, a bold and prominent conical hill, from the summit of which the whalers look for their game. Under the lea of Rosetta Head there is a small harbour called Rosetta Harbour. It is separated by a rocky island called Granite Island, and a reef that is visible at low water, and connects Granite Island with the main land from Victor Harbour, so called after H.M.'s ship Victor, when surveying in that quarter. Neither of these harbours however are considered secure, although they are protected from all but south-east winds.