A little below the Lindesay, a rapid occurs. It was with the utmost difficulty that we stemmed it with the four oars upon the boat, and the exertion of our whole strength. We remained, at one time, perfectly stationary, the force we employed and that of the current being equal. We at length ran up the stream obliquely; but it was evident the men were not adequate to such exertion for any length of time. We pulled that day for eleven successive hours, in order to avoid a tribe of natives who followed us. Hopkinson and Fraser fell asleep at their oars, and even the heavy Clayton appeared to labour.
We again occupied our camp under the first remarkable cliffs of the Murray, a description of which has been given in page 128 of this work. Their summit, as I have already remarked forms a table land of some elevation. From it the distant interior to the S.S.E. appears very depressed; that to the north undulates more. In neither quarter, however, does any bright foliage meet the eye, to tell that a better soil is under it; but a dark and gloomy vegetation occupies both the near and distant ground, in proof that the sandy sterile tracts, succeeding the river deposits, stretch far away without a change.
A little above our camp of the 28th of January, we fell in with a large tribe of natives, whose anxiety to detain us
was remarkable. The wind, however, which, from the time we lost the sea breezes, had hung to the S.E., had changed to the S.W., and we were eagerly availing ourselves of it. It will not be supposed we stopped even for a moment. In truth we pressed on with great success, and did not land to sleep until nine o'clock. As long as the wind blew from the S.W., the days were cool, and the sky overcast even so much so as to threaten rain.
The least circumstance, in our critical situation, naturally raised my apprehensions, and I feared the river would be swollen in the event of any heavy rains in the hilly country; I hoped, however, we should gain the Morumbidgee before such a calamity should happen to us, and it became my object to press for that river without delay.
Although we had met with frequent rapids in our progress upwards, they had not been of a serious kind, nor such as would affect the navigation of the river. The first direct obstacle of this kind occurs a little above a small tributary that falls into the Murray from the north, between the Rufus and the cliffs we have alluded to. At this place a reef of coarse grit contracts the channel of the river. No force we could have exerted with the oars would have taken us up this rapid; but we accomplished the task easily by means of a rope which we hauled upon, on the same principle that barges are dragged by horses along the canals.
As we neared the junction of the two main streams, the country, on both sides of the river, became low, and its general appearance confirmed the opinion I have already
given as to its flooded origin. The clouds that obscured the sky, and had threatened to burst for some time, at length gave way, and we experienced two or three days of heavy rain. In the midst of it we passed the second stage of our journey, and found the spot lately so crowded with inhabitants totally deserted. A little above it we surprised a small tribe in a temporary shelter; but neither our offers nor presents could prevail on any of them to expose themselves to the torrent that was falling. They sat shivering in their bark huts in evident astonishment at our indifference. We threw them some trifling presents and were glad to proceed unattended by any of them.
It will be remembered that in passing down the river, the boat was placed in some danger in descending a rapid before we reached the junction of the Murray with the stream supposed by me to be the Darling. We were now gradually approaching the rapid, nor did I well know how we should surmount such an obstacle. Strength to pull up it we had not, and I feared our ropes would not be long enough to reach to the shore over some of the rocks, since it descended in minor declivities to a considerable distance below the principal rapid, in the centre of which the boat had struck. We reached the commencement of these rapids on the 6th, and ascended the first by means of ropes, which were hauled upon by three of the men from the bank; and, as the day was pretty far advanced, we stopped a little above it, that we might attempt the principal rapid before we should be exhausted by previous exertion. It was
fortunate that we took such a precaution. The morning of the 7th proved extremely dark, and much rain fell. We commenced our journey in the midst of it, and soon gained the tail of the rapid. Our attempt to pull up it completely failed. The boat, as soon as she entered the ripple, spun round like a toy, and away we went with the stream. As I had anticipated, our ropes were too short; and it only remained for us to get into the water, and haul the boat up by main force. We managed pretty well at first, and drew her alongside a rock to rest a little. We then recommenced our efforts, and had got into the middle of the channel. We were up to our armpits in the water, and only kept our position by means of rocks beside us. The rain was falling, as if we were in a tropical shower, and the force of the current was such, that if we had relaxed for an instant, we should have lost all the ground we had gained. Just at this moment, however, without our being aware of their approach, a large tribe of natives, with their spears, lined the bank, and took us most completely by surprise. At no time during this anxious journey were we ever so completely in their power, or in so defenceless a situation. It rained so hard, that our firelocks would have been of no use, and had they attacked us, we must necessarily have been slaughtered without committing the least execution upon them. Nothing, therefore, remained for us but to continue our exertions. It required only one strong effort to get the boat into still water for a time, but that effort was beyond our strength, and we stood in the stream, powerless and exhausted.