It was in truth as glorious a prospect as could greet the eye. A magnificent sheet of water lay before us in one unbroken expanse, resembling a smooth translucent lake. Its gentle repose harmonized exquisitely with the slender motionless boughs of the drooping gums, palms, and acacias, that clustered on the banks, and dipped their feathery foliage in the limpid stream, that like a polished mirror bore, within its bosom, the image of the graceful vegetation by which it was bordered. The report of our guns, as they dealt destruction among the quails that here abounded, rolled for the first time along the waters of the Albert, breaking in on the hush of stillness that appeared to reign over all like the presence of a spirit. The country that stretched away from either bank was an extensive plain, covered with long coarse grass, above which was occasionally seen the head of a kangaroo, listening, with its acute ear, for our approach.
No high land presented itself in any direction, and the eye was only relieved by the growth of trees and shrubs that marked the line of the watercourses, the natural drains of the country, which had formed deep channels through the banks. The gumtrees, near the river, were of considerable size, though small on the plains. A light kind of mould of great depth, without a particle of stone of any kind, was the character of the soil.
BIRDS AND FISHES.
One of the boats tried the hooks and lines during our rambles over the country, and from the number of catfish and a dark kind of bream that was caught, we are enabled to state that this part of the Albert abounds with them. Besides quails, pigeons and a beautiful finch, before seen on the Victoria, are to be numbered among the land birds. Those of the water consisted of large brown, and small grey ducks, spoonbills, black and white geese, and a dark blue kind of rail, bearing a great resemblance to the English moor-fowl, that afforded us excellent sport, as they flew out in great numbers from the long flags that border the banks on the upper part of Hope Reach. We did not see any black swans, neither were they noticed by us on the north-west coast. I, myself, believe they are not to be found to the northward of latitude 27 degrees 0 minutes South. This part of the river is subject to a tidal influence, producing a slight rise, which takes place about four hours after the time of high-water at the mouth.
In our eagerness to proceed we moved off rapidly up the river, after a hasty meal. All beyond was mystery; and it seemed that we were destined to remain long in suspense; for the day soon closed in, leaving only the pale light of the moon to guide us. The depth continued regular, at two and a half fathoms, and the width two hundred yards. We hastened onwards; the night scenery being almost more beautiful than the day. The heavens seemed more deep, the water more glittering, the trees more graceful and feathery; and here and there a tall palm reared its thin and spectral form above the dense foliage through which the moonlight broke at intervals, and fell, as it were, in showers of silver on the placid waters.
Nearly seven miles had been traversed in the same South-West 1/2 South direction, when our hopes of proceeding further were suddenly for a time destroyed, by the appearance of a dense woody mass ahead. A little further on, the moon peering through the matted foliage showed one branch of the river turning off to the southward, whilst another, in the mouth of which we found ourselves, trended west. The lead giving the great depth of six fathoms, we were induced to follow the latter. Utter darkness soon surrounded us; the trees, on either side, over-shadowing the river, which in this branch was not eighty yards wide.
PROGRESS IMPEDED.
Our progress, also, at length began to be impeded by fallen or sunken trees, which not only rendered the ascent dangerous, but at the end of about two miles fairly brought us to a standstill, and forbade our further advance. This detention was a bitter disappointment to us all, and we crept into our blanket-bags with disgust, but with the hope that in the morning a passage might still be found.
August 4.
Daylight brought no better hopes of our taking the boats higher up by this branch, as a succession of large trees lay across it a quarter of a mile above. It was a gloomy corner we had got into, and so sheltered that it seemed as though a breath of wind had never swept through it; the leaves of the low-spreading palms that drooped over the water, damp with the morning dew, had unbroken edges, as if an eternal quietude had pervaded the spot.