Till lately, settlement has not progressed rapidly on the land in the immediate neighbourhood of the railway. It is hoped that the Northern Territory lands will be better developed as the trade in frozen beef develops. At present the mainstay of the state is beef-production. In an article on the Northern Territory in “Australia To-day,” December, 1914, Mr. W. H. Clarke, late Director of Agriculture, states it as his opinion that: “The possibilities in this direction are not far behind those of Queensland, where the meat export industry is taxing already to the utmost the output of cattle.” He goes on to say, however, “That many holdings have been stocked and abandoned, hundreds of leases have been taken up and forfeited. Men of sound experience and substantial means have tried the industry in different parts of the Territory, and given it up in despair. To-day some of the foremost cattlemen condemn the country outright, yet there are many stations carrying between them about half a million head of cattle.” He explains the causes of this anomalous state of affairs by the distance from markets, “the waste and anxiety of inadequately watered stock routes, an industry in most cases on lines of crudest pioneering,” a lack of fences or musterers, and, in the dry season, drinking-places that become “boggy death-traps,” which hundreds, sometimes thousands of cattle frequent, “till their numbers are decimated.” The opening of the Freezing Works at Darwin, and the extension of the railway are the first steps towards making it worth the while of the Territory pastoralist to remedy these defects. Freezing Works are being erected.
Agricultural lands are granted in the Territory on perpetual leases as long as the holder complies with certain conditions, such as the erection of a house within two years on his lands, and residence there for a certain number of months in each year. Pastoral leases are granted on still more easy terms, and advances are made to settlers for the purchase of building materials, plant, fencing, and stock.
The mineral wealth of the Northern Territory is as yet unexplored, and is still awaiting a more complete geological survey, before it can be estimated accurately. Gold, tin, and copper have been found in considerable quantities, but have not as yet been adequately worked.
When we visited Port Darwin the rains were expected. In about another week, said our host, they would begin, and in less than a week from that time the bare red soil would be covered with springing vegetation, three or four feet high. Here the mango trees, that we had seen in flower at Cairns, were already bearing the yellow globes of their fruit. Among a grove of coco palms we saw the picturesque corkscrew palm, with its odd spiral stem, but we saw no animal life, except a few peeweets of the smaller kind, though our host said the flocks of wild geese, that herald the coming of the rain, had already begun to pass overhead. He also pointed out a spot on the road, in which a short time before, a large kangaroo had run out of the bush and, startled at seeing him, cleared his horse’s head at one bound.
At the entrance to the Botanical Gardens we saw our first banyan tree, bare of leaves, and showing the curious formation of the branches. Later we passed one that had already burst into leaf. The drive afforded lovely glimpses of the harbour, its bright blue waters lapping the green, wooded shores. In the Botanical Gardens there were as yet few flowers. The scarlet coral-tree was there, and another scarlet flowering tree, and some waxy, red hibiscus. The Administrator and his wife received their guests upon a lawn, that had somehow retained its grass, and we then sat about at little tables, and were waited on by the young daughters of the residents; and anyone seeing their pretty bright faces and healthy colour, would feel that the much-abused climate of Port Darwin had been greatly vilified. The scent of a wood fire was wafted over to us, from where the billy tea was boiling on some logs. The air was delicious; but we had not started till the heat of the day was over, for, owing to the unfortunate detention at Townsville, our stay at Darwin, a place of a hundredfold its interest, had been lamentably curtailed. We had hoped to see something of the native life. Here the native population has retained its primitive simplicity. The natives of the interior do not come into contact with other races. They are, unfortunately, dying out, like the native Australian animals, for what reason is not definitely known. The Commonwealth Year Book for 1912 gives the total number of the native population of the Northern Territory as 20,000, and adds that it is believed they are rapidly dying out. Of these, 1223 were semi-civilised, through coming into contact with, or being in the employment of, European residents.
The Australian native has always been in a different position from other primitive peoples. He has not had to contend either with races superior to himself in intelligence, or with savage wild animals. Consequently he has had nothing to sharpen his wits, and remains the most backward race now existing. Professor Baldwin Spencer, the most recent authority on this subject, points out that though the natives make use habitually of numerous kinds of grass seed, which they grind, and make into cakes, it has never occurred to them to sow these seeds and secure a regular crop. And he adds: “In many tribes, at least, this is because he knows nothing of the relation between the seed and the adult plant, and thinks that the latter grows because he makes it so do by magic.” The habits and character, the strange customs and ingenious superstitions of these interesting people have been charmingly delineated in a series of unpretending sketches called “The Little Black Princess,” by Mrs. Gunn. It is a sort of popular Fraser’s “Golden Bough,” and is valuable as preserving a record of the everyday life of the Europeans in the Northern Territory under conditions that must of necessity soon pass away.
We could not hope to see the “myals,” or wild blacks, and it was already drawing towards nightfall. Our host, with delightful resourcefulness, proposed to take us to the local gaol, as it afforded the only opportunity of our making acquaintance with the natives. It was a question whether we could get there before it was dark. A Government motor-car had just driven up, arrived back from the Daly River. Its driver was having a hurried sandwich, which he must have badly wanted, but he at once consented to take us. It was a powerfully built car, covered with dust, and with no doors, so that we had to scramble in over the sides, which we did with great alacrity. As we were starting one of the ladies who had taken charge of us said, “Of course you will dine with us to-night. Our servants have gone off, and we have got workmen in the house, but that will make no difference, if you will come.” There was the typical Australian hospitality, which is so unlike what we mean by the word. If we had accepted, we should no doubt have had an excellent dinner served on the verandah; but we declined, as we had to dress for the evening lecture, and accepted instead an invitation to supper afterwards.
This point satisfactorily settled, we proceeded to the gaol. The gaol looked very clean and new and official. Its gates were closed, and some scarlet hibiscus was in flower by the fence. On a look-out station a sooty black man was keeping watch with a telescope for incoming vessels. The prisoners had all gone to bed for the night, but they were fetched out to make our acquaintance, and lined up in the grounds. Inside it was cool and airy, with black cement floors, to match the inmates. Out they came, the poor gaol-birds, wild things of the woods, with the limitless forest to roam over, cooped up in a cell for following the natural bent of any wild animal to fight and kill. They have little sense of time, and their sentences are not for long; they spend nearly all their day in the open air. They stood in a pathetic little row in their dark blue prison dress, with their sooty, shaven heads. One was in chains, as being held to be dangerous and likely to give trouble. There seemed to be different types, some of them were much flatter-nosed than others. Most of them were in for murder; in two cases it had been provoked by cruelty. In one of these a white man had justly earned the hatred of his black neighbours. The case, said our friend, had been very well got up.[26] It was proved that the dead man was fishing for bêche-de-mer[27] one moonlight night; the natives whom he had injured lay in wait for him, and speared him to death. Morally they were justified by their own code, but the forces of order were obliged to assert themselves.
Life sentences are imposed for murder, but the prisoners are always released, the period of their detention depending on their good behaviour, for often they pine away in captivity.
Looking at these simple, childlike, confiding creatures, who play marbles for amusement, one felt that any white who could treat them cruelly deserved all he got. Only one of them looked at us with the gloomy, smouldering eyes of a caged animal. The others all greeted our host with beaming confidence. One man’s skull was deeply cleft horizontally for about two inches. “By a black fellow,” he remarked without resentment. Another from Pine Creek was asked what he was in for. “Longa fight Chinaman,” he responded with a reminiscent chuckle of satisfaction. It was the last amusing thing the poor fellow had done. Another was in “longa kill Chinaman,” as he unconcernedly explained. Our friend with the cleft skull had committed a very cruel murder. After acting as guide to a white man in the bush, he followed him secretly for days, and finally murdered him in his sleep for the little food he had got left, and he was almost starving at the time. We had come from England and must return, our host told them. “No savvy,” they replied vaguely. So we said good-bye to our poor little dusky brothers, and turned back to the Botanical Gardens to recover the Government cart and horse. At parting, our driver took out of a native basket a little collar of coloured beads made by the natives up the Daly River, and gave it to us as a memento of our brief acquaintance.