There is little doubt that had fortune turned the prows of the Dutch vessels on to the north-east coast, instead of the rough and rugged shores of the west, Australia would have seen settlement long before the date of Phillip's landing. But the Dutch found no inducements whatever on the west; their ships were wrecked, their crews attacked by the natives, and they had great difficulty in finding fresh water; so that it was little wonder that even their energy and adventurous spirit recognised but nothing in TERRA AUSTRALIS to repay them for the trouble of taking possession. The French, too, saw little in the unclaimed portion of the country they visited to do more than threaten an occupation, which never took place, and it is doubtful if the uninviting shores of Botany Bay would have held out any hope to a body of free immigrants.
In all these halts on the way to colonization, Australia seems to have borne but the aspect of her interior plains: formidable and repellent to the intruder. Starting from the south, the first travellers had to face all the loneliness and sterility of Lake Torrens and the other salt lakes, and it was many years before it was found out that beyond existed good habitable country. Eyre and Sturt both failed in their efforts to penetrate north, and it was astonishing how easily it was afterwards accomplished by two such comparatively inexperienced men as Burke and Wills. From the west, nature was all against the explorer, and it was only after the discovery of the Ashburton that Forest managed to reach the overland line, that river having helped him well into the centre of the colony. From the north, the penetration of the Great Plain was only attempted once by A. C. Gregory, and then he was repulsed. From the eastern shore, the steady progress, although not destined to finally succeed, gradually brought nearly half the continent under the sway of settlement, and the advance was mainly checked by the disappointment resulting from Kennedy's examination of the Barcoo, and its final course into a dreary desert. Of the many magnificent preparations made, it has not always been the lot of the best equipped parties to attain the greatest success, few men started with less outfit than did Macdowall Stuart, when he reached to and beyond central Mount Stuart; no men ever left better provided than did Burke and Wills, and their unfortunate death by starvation is too well known. The equipment of the explorer, especially as regards the use of camels, has been a matter of much dispute. M'Kinlay speaks highly in praise of them, Warburton and Giles both ascribe their safety to having them with them. But although they have been the means of achieving long stages over dry country, they are treacherous and dangerous animals to deal with. And should they make their escape, it would be impossible to recover them with only horses at command. Then, too, the possession of camels leads to hasty and hurried examination of country, and the mere fact of being in command of such means of locomotion entices a man to push on regardless of caution. M'Kinlay reports that the camels seem to thrive well on everything, but Warburton appeared to have great difficulty in obtaining feed for them in the sandhill country. Be this as it may, they have done good service in Australia, but it is not evident that they are always of equal good.
But the time will, without doubt, soon come when camels will no longer be required, and the scenes of the forced and painful marches of some of our explorers be watered by the springs now imprisoned hundreds of feet below the surface. Since these pages were commenced, one of the strongest outflows in the world has been struck near the foot of the range in Queensland, some hundreds of miles back from the central coast, in a place which witnessed the last expedition of Major Mitchell. This discovery, added to the many that have preceded it, leads to much thought as to the probability of future discoveries, and the wonderful springs that are already known to exist.
"Water! water! everywhere, and not a drop to drink." Although not absolutely true, in fact, or rather on the surface, this quotation might be uttered with a strong measure of truth by many a poor wretch perishing from thirst on a drought-blasted inland plain, whilst underneath him, at a greater or less distance, run sunless seas.
Of the magnitude of our great subterranean reservoir who shall tell? What craft will ever float on its dark surface, under domes of pendant stalactites, rippling for the first time the ice-cold waters, and disturbing the eyeless fish in their shadowy haunts? Only when here and there we tap it, and the mighty pressure sends up a thin column of water hundreds of feet in answer. Or when we notice the strong, constant springs that at intervals break through the surface crust to gladden us; or when the deeper internal fires burst forth, and hurl up its waters in scathing steam and boiling mud, can we guess of the great hidden sea beneath.
We have a problem given into our hands to solve; it is our heritage, and we have only just commenced to try and find the answer. In our fair continent there are thousands upon thousands of square miles of fertile country that Nature herself has planned and mapped out into wide fields, with gentle declivities and slopes, fit for the reception of the modest channel that shall convey the living water over the great pasture lands; and now we want the magician to come, and, with the wand of human skill, bring the interior waters to the surface, and make the desert blossom.
Of the great supply that lies awaiting us deep down in the earth's caverns we have incontestible proofs, and of the force latent in it to lift it to the surface, to be our willing slave and bondsman, we, too, have some dawning notion. Will years of study and observation give us the power to wield the wand at will? We cannot but believe it. Our vast and fertile downs were never destined to be idle and unproductive for months and months, dependent only on the niggard clouds o'erhead.
To make Australia the richest and most self-supporting country that sun ever shone upon, wherein every man could follow out the old saying of sitting under his own vine and fig tree, what is wanted? The answer to this problem is to bring to our rich alluvial surface the waters under the earth.
On the great inland plateau that occupies two-thirds of the entire continent, we find the soil teeming with elements of surpassing fertility. Even the grudging rainfall that comes so seldom has developed a wealth of indigenous herbage, grasses, and fodder plants unequalled in any other part of the globe. The earth seems to have put forth every inherent vitalising power it possesses to render its creatures independent of cruel seasons.
What traveller but has noticed the magical effect of rain upon the deep friable soil, formed by the denuded limestone rock. Almost instantaneously fresh life springs up. Within but a short time the dry and withered stalks of grass assume a deep rich green, the soft broad leaves and joints are replete with moisture. The bare ground is quickly coated with trailing vines and creepers, bearing succulent seed pods, grateful and moist. The rough-coated, staggering beast that could scarce drag its feeble legs out of the muddy waterhole, becomes in a few weeks strong and vigorous. What would not such a land be with a constant fertilizing stream of water through, and about it?