At the back of the world

by George Pugh; Jennie Pugh

“What is it like further ahead, mates?” asked Brown.

“Well, it is only just passable to the Normanby river from here. I don’t think you will be able to cross it with your packs. We had to swim it, holding on to the horse’s tails, and then we lost some of our little stock of food, it was a narrow squeak for us all, horses and men, but we are here, thank God, safe so far.”

Brown gave them a small tin of beef essence, and a few ship’s biscuits that he had brought with him. The gratitude of the poor hungry fellows was pitiful to see, then they offered us some of their hardly won gold for it, which we promptly refused.

“No, no, mates,” said Brown. “You chaps have earned and suffered enough for that. Keep it, and take care of it, and may you live to enjoy it.”

We camped all together that night, after sitting yarning for some hours, and when we had all eaten a very hearty breakfast we separated, each party going on its way, like ships that pass in the night, never to meet again.

Our track that day was very bad, just slush and mire, the horses at every step sinking up to their knees. We were ready and expected to meet with hardship on the road, but to realize the suffering to man and horse dragging themselves along that quagmire is better felt than described. Every moment we were afraid of them breaking down, and when about two p.m. we got on a stretch of solid ground, we pitched our tent, and gave them a good rest. So far we had not seen a living bird or animal since leaving Cooktown. Had we been depending on our guns supplying our larder with food we should have had to go short, fortunately for us we were not.

The next day it was terribly hot, and, to add to our discomfort, we had several heavy showers, which soon wet us through and through. When these stopped and the sun came out again our clothes steamed on us, just as though we were near a fire; this and the steam arising from the ground made us feel faint and feverish. We were also pestered with a common little house fly that swarmed around us and was a perfect nuisance. At sunset we felt we could go no farther, so pitched our tent on a patch of stony ground close to a creek, where there was good grass, so we hobbled the horses and let them graze.

We turned in early, for we were dead tired, and the mosquitoes were buzzing round in myriads, with their incessant cry of “cousin, cousin,” when about midnight we were roused by a tremendous row near us, a peculiar indescribable noise was coming down from the creek, which we could not account for. We both sprang up and seized our guns, but the night was pitch dark. What it might be we did not know, we did not go out, but remained in our tent on the defensive. Never had either of us heard anything like it; it was as one often hears, “sufficient to raise the dead.” We began to wonder if we were surrounded by a mob of the blacks, who were lurking around us, or was it the spirits of those who had perished on this lone track, and who were trying to make us return to civilization, but whatever it was, it was awful and above all the noise could be heard quite distinctly—a piercing yell of pain, such as no human being or animal we knew could utter. Thinking to frighten the blacks, if it were indeed they, we shouted out to each other in different tones and names, to give them the impression that we were neither alone or unarmed.

When the welcome daylight came we Went in search of the horses. We could only find two, but on the bank of the creek, not far from the tent, was the forepart of our third horse. It was bitten off right under the forelegs, all the rest was gone. There on the ground and in the soft mud were the signs of a struggle, and the marks of some big body having been dragged towards the water. Close to the water were the tracks of a huge alligator, and where it had come out of and entered the creek, a deep furrow had been turned up by its tail. This explained the noise in the night, it was the struggle and death agony of the poor beast, it must have been drinking at the creek and been seized by the alligator. This was a very serious loss to us, and made us feel quite disheartened.

We remained where we were until noon. Then crossed the creek and went on our way—our horses more heavily weighted than before owing to the loss of the packhorse—and at sundown we pitched our tent. Our fire was barely lighted to boil the billy for tea, when three men crawled up to the tent. We were so surprised, that for the moment we stood still looking at them, for they looked like scarecrows with their clothes hanging in rags upon them.