Strzelecki's Creek
We had crossed the first or Strzelecki's Creek on the 29th, and had halted that night without water. During it some of the horses broke loose and wandered back; but Flood and Joseph soon overtook and brought them back. We should have had a distance of 85 miles to travel without water, but fortunately the precaution we had taken of digging wells in going out, insured us a supply in one of them, so that our return over this last long and dry tract of country was comparatively light, and we gained the Park and joined Mr. Stuart at the stockade on the evening of the 2nd of October, after an absence of seven weeks, during which we had ridden more than 800 miles. Had it not been for the precaution of digging these wells, I do not think that two or three of the horses would have reached their journey's end. We only found water in one, it is true, but that one was of the most essential service, inasmuch as it saved several of our animals; and this is a point, I hope future travellers in such a country will bear in mind. Mr. Browne found it necessary to put all the men on the sick list, and their comrades made them as comfortable as they could, after their late fatigues.
It was a great satisfaction to me to learn that everything had gone on well at the camp during my absence; Mr. Stuart had a good report to make of all. The cattle had been duly attended to, and had become exceedingly tame and quiet. The sheep were in splendid condition, but their flesh had a peculiar flavour--and that, too, not a very agreeable one, still their value was unquestionable, for if we had been living on salt provisions, it is more than probable that half of the party would have been left in the desert. The practicability of taking a flock of sheep into the interior, had now been fully proved in our case, at all events; but I am ready to admit that they are, notwithstanding, a precarious supply, and that unless great care be taken, they may be lost. The men, however, appeared to consider them of far too great importance to be neglected, and I think that when taken, they will for that very reason be well looked after.
The stockade had been erected and really looked very well; it was built just as I had directed, with the flag flying at the entrance. I availed myself of the opportunity, therefore, to call it "Fort Grey," after his Excellency the then Governor of South Australia.
Mr. Stuart informed me that a few natives only had visited the camp; but that on one occasion some of them appeared armed, being as they said on their way to a grand fight, four of their tribe having been killed in a recent encounter. Only the day before, however, a party had visited the camp, one of whom had stolen Davenport's blanket. He was pretty sure of the thief, however, so we did not despair of getting it back again.
I observed that when we were on Eyre's Creek, the climate and temperature were cool and agreeable. From that period the heat had considerably increased, and the thermometer now ranged from 96 to 100 degrees. The wind having settled in its old quarter the E.S.E., in this latitude was not so cold as we had felt it in a more northerly one. Why it should have been so, it is difficult to say: we know the kind of country over which an E.S.E. wind must pass between the coast and the latitude of Fort Grey, and could not expect that it should be other than hot, but we are ignorant of the kind of country over which it may sweep higher up to the north. Can it be that there is a large body of water in that quarter? We shall soon have to record something to strengthen that supposition. About this period the sky was generally cloudy, and, as I have before remarked, in any other region it would have rained, but here only a few drops fell, no signs of which remained half an hour afterwards; the barometer, however, was very low, and it was not unreasonable to have encouraged hopes of a favourable change.
On the 3rd the natives who had visited the camp before our return, again came, together with the young boy who Davenport suspected had stolen his blanket. He charged him with the theft, therefore, and told him not to return to the tents again without it, explaining at the same time what he had said, to the other natives. The boy went away before the rest, but all of them returned the next day, and he gave up the blanket. On hearing this, I went out and praised him, and as he appeared to be sorry for his offence, I gave him a knife, in which I believe I erred, for we afterwards learnt, that the surrender of the blanket was not a voluntary act, but that he had been punished, and forced to restore it by his tribe. I cannot help thinking, however, that if the theft had not been discovered, the young rogue would have been applauded for his dexterity.
I had, during my journey back to the Depot, sat up to a late hour writing, that no delay might take place in my intended arrangements on our arrival at Fort Grey. In revolving in my own mind the state of the country, I felt satisfied that, although the water had decreased fearfully since the July rain, the road was still open for Mr. Browne to make good his retreat, but it was quite uncertain how long it might continue so. It was evident, indeed, that neither he nor myself had any time to lose, but I waited for a few days before I broke the subject to him, reluctant as I was to hasten his departure, and feeling I should often have to regret the loss of such a companion. The varied reverses and disappointments we had encountered together, and the peculiar character of the expedition, had, as far as Mr. Browne and myself were concerned, removed all restraint, and left to ourselves in that dreary wilderness, we regarded each other as friends only, who were united in a common cause, in the success of which we were almost equally interested. I knew, therefore, that the proposal I was about to make would give him pain; but I counted on his acquiescence, and as time would not admit of delay, I availed myself of an opportunity that presented itself the third day after our return, to break it to him.
As we were sitting in the tent after dinner, with our tea still before us, I said to him, "I am afraid, Browne, from what I have observed, that you have mistaken the object for which I have returned to the Depot, and that you have been buoying yourself up with the hope that it is done preparatory to our return to Adelaide; for myself I cannot encourage any such hope for the present, at least. So far indeed from this, I have for some time been reflecting as to the most prudent course to be pursued under our present circumstances; for, I would not conceal from you the pain I have felt at the failure of our endeavours to penetrate farther than we have been able to do into the interior, neither can I conceal from myself the fact, that whatever our personal exertions, the results of our labours have not been commensurate with our expectations, and that however great our perseverance or however difficult the task we have had to perform, the world at large will alone judge of its merits by its success. In considering how we can yet retrieve our misfortunes, one only step occurs to me, and whatever pain our separation may cost us, I am sure, where the interests of the services call for it, you will readily comply with my wishes. I propose, then, your return to Adelaide, with all the party but three; that you should leave me five horses, and take with you only such provisions as you may absolutely require upon the road. By such an arrangement I might yet hold out against the drought, and ultimately succeed in doing something to make up for the past." My young friend was evidently unprepared for the proposition I had made. "You have done all you were sent out to do," he observed, "why then seek to penetrate again into that horrid desert? It is impossible that you can succeed during the continuance of the dry weather. If you now go you will never get back again; besides, have you," he asked, "made any calculations as to the means both of provisions and carriage you will require?" "That," I replied, "is for my consideration, but I have done so, and it appears to me that both are ample." "Well," said Mr. Browne, "it may be so, I do not know, but I can never consent to leave you in this dreadful desert. Ask me to do anything else, and I will do it; but I cannot and will not desert you." It was in vain that I assured him, he took a wrong view of the matter. That, as I had sent Mr. Poole home to increase my means, so I wished to send him, and that he would be rendering me as valuable, though not such agreeable service, as if he continued with me. "You know, Browne," I added, "that the eyes of the geographical world are fixed on me, and that I have a previous reputation to maintain; with you it is different. If I hoped to make any discovery I would not ask you to leave me. Believe me, I would that you shared the honour as you have shared the privations and anxieties of this desert with me; but I entertain no such hope, and would save you from further exposure. I have not seen enough of this dreary region to satisfy me as to its present condition. How then shall I satisfy others? That Stony Desert was, I believe, the bed of a former stream, but how can I speak decidedly on the little I have observed of it. No! as we have been forced back from one point, I must try another,--and I hope you will not throw any impediment in the way. There is every reason why you should return to Adelaide: your health is seriously impaired,--you are in constant pain,--and your affairs are going to ruin; on all these considerations I would urge you to comply with my wishes." Mr. Browne admitted the truth of what I said, but felt certain that if he left, it would only be to hear of my having perished in that horrid desert,--that my life was too valuable to others to be so thrown away,--that he owed me too much to forsake me, and that he could not do that of which his conscience would ever after reproach him;--that his brother would attend to his interests, and that if it were otherwise, it would be no excuse for him to desert his friend,--that he would acquiesce in any other arrangement, but to leave me he could not. "Well," I said, "I ask nothing unreasonable from you, nothing but what the sternness of duty calls for; and if you will not yield to friendly solicitations, I must order you home." "I cannot go," he replied; "I do not care for any pecuniary reward for my services, and will give it up: I want no pay, but desert you I will not." The reader will better imagine than I can describe, such a scene passing in the heart of a wilderness, and under such circumstances I may not state all that passed; suffice it to say, that we at length separated, with an assurance on Mr. Browne's part, that he would consider what I had proposed, and speak to me again in the morning. The morning came, and after breakfast, he said he had endeavoured to force himself into a compliance with my wishes, but to no purpose;--that he could not leave me, and had made up his mind to take the consequences. It was in vain that I remonstrated, and I therefore ceased to importune him on a point which, however much I might regret his decision, I could not but feel that he was influenced by the most disinterested anxiety for my safety. But it became necessary to make some other arrangements; I had already been four days idle, and it was not my intention to let the week so pass over my head. Mr. Browne was too ill to accompany me again into the field. I sent, therefore, for Mr. Stuart, and told him to put up ten weeks provisions for four men,--to warn Morgan and Mack that I should require them to attend me when I again left the camp,--and to hold himself and them in readiness to commence the journey the day but one following; as I felt the horses required the rest I should myself otherwise have rejected.