My wound began by degrees to get very stiff and painful, and I was moreover excessively weak and faint from loss of blood; indeed I grew so dizzy that I could scarcely see, and neither of the others were capable of leading the party back to the tents; yet I was afraid to halt and rest for I imagined that if I allowed my wound to grow cold and benumbed I should then be unable to move; leaning therefore on Coles's arm, I walked on as rapidly as I could, directing the men which way to go.
MISTAKE OF THE ROUTE.
Unfortunately however we lost our track and, after walking for nearly two hours, I found that we were far from the encampment, whilst my sight and strength were momentarily failing. Under these circumstances I told Coles to walk in a direction which I gave him, and which led directly across the beaten track of the party; having reached which he could easily make out the encampment, and, leaning on his arm more heavily than before, we again moved on.
INABILITY TO PROCEED.
Having reached the track of the party and turned southward to follow it I still pushed on until we were within two miles of the tent, when, as I tried to cross a stream, I strained my wounded hip severely, just reached the opposite shore, and fell utterly unable to rise again. Coles, with his usual courage and devotion to me, volunteered to go on alone to the party and send assistance; the other man was to remain with me and keep a lookout for the natives, and, had they again attacked us, I should still have had strength enough to have shot two of them, and thus have sold my life dearly. I desired Coles to say that a tent, stores, the surgeon, and two men were to be sent to me, for that I was not well enough to be moved.
REFLECTIONS.
The water of the stream revived me considerably. My wound however was very painful, and the interim between Corporal Coles leaving me, and assistance arriving from the tent was spent in meditations, arising naturally from my present circumstances. I sat upon the rocky edge of a cool clear brook, supported by a small tree. The sun shone out brightly, the dark forest was alive with birds and insects. On such scenery I had loved to meditate when a boy, but now how changed I was; wounded, fatigued, and wandering in an unknown land. In momentary expectation of being attacked my finger was on the trigger, my gun ready to be raised, my eyes and ears busily engaged in detecting the slightest sounds, that I might defend a life which I at that moment believed was ebbing with my blood away; the loveliness of nature was around me, the sun rejoicing in his cloudless career, the birds were filling the woods with their songs, and my friends far away and unapprehensive of my condition, whilst I felt that I was dying there.
And in this way very many explorers yearly die. One poor youth (Mr. Frederick Smith) my own friend and companion, has thus fallen since the circumstances above described took place; others have, to my knowledge, lately perished in a similar way. A strange sun shines upon their lonely graves; the foot of the wild man yet roams over them: but let us hope when civilization has spread so far that their graves will be sacred spots that the future settlers will sometimes shed a tear over the remains of the first explorer, and tell their children how much they are indebted to the enthusiasm, perseverance, and courage of him who lies buried there.
Mr. Walker was by my side within an hour after the time that Coles had left me; he had come on alone ahead of the others, not knowing but that I might be in immediate danger, and therefore running a risk on my account that I can never forget.
He dressed my wound and told me that assistance was at hand to convey me to the tents. Mr. Lushington soon arrived with a pony. It was now growing very late in the day. I therefore did not like to remonstrate against being moved on horseback although, from the position of my wound, I feared that it was an injudicious mode of conveyance in my state. I was placed upon the pony and, supported by my comrades, moved onwards to the tent.