Tuesday, 4th June, Chain of Ponds. Last night one of the horses was drowned in going down to drink at the water hole. He went into a boggy place, got his hind foot fastened in his hobbles, from which he could not extricate himself, and was drowned before we could save him. This is another great loss, for he was a good pack-horse, and was one that I intended taking on my next trip to the westward. At about 8 p.m. it began to rain, and continued the whole night, coming from the east and east-south-east. It still continues without any sign of a break. The ground has become so soft that when walking we sink up to the ankle, and the horses can scarcely move in it. At sundown there is no appearance of a change. It has rained without intermission the whole of last night and to-day. I do not know what effect this will have on my further progress, for now it is impossible to travel. The horses in feeding are already sinking above their knees. Wind and rain from east and east-south-east.
Wednesday, 5th June, Chain of Ponds. There is a little sign of a break in the clouds this morning. The rain has continued the whole night. Ground very soft; it has become about the thickness of cream. The horses can scarcely get about to feed. Sundown: It has been showery all day; sky overcast; clouds and rain from same direction, south-east. In the afternoon some natives made their appearance at about six hundred yards' distance. As the rain had damped the cartridges I caused the rifles to be fired off in that direction; and, as the bullets struck the trees close to them they thought it best to retreat as fast as possible, yelling as they went.
Thursday, 6th June, Chain of Ponds. During the night it has been stormy, with showers of rain, and is still the same this morning. Sundown: Still stormy, with a few drops of rain. Wind, east.
Friday, 7th June, Chain of Ponds. During the night the rain ceased, and this morning is quite bright. Ground so soft that it is impossible to travel. Latitude, 17 degrees 35 minutes 25 seconds. Sent Thring some miles to the west, to see in what state the country is, if fit for us to proceed, and if he can see any water that I could move the party to, for I do not like this place. If more rain falls it will lock us in all together—neither do I like leaving the party with so many natives about. At one o'clock he returned. The ground was so heavy that he had to turn at five miles. He could see no water, but a number of native tracks going to and coming from the west. I shall be obliged to leave the party here, and on Monday try another trip to the west. If I find water I shall return and take them to it. The day has been clear, but at sundown it is again cloudy. Clouds from north-west. Wind from east.
Saturday, 8th June, Chain of Ponds. This morning it has again cleared off, and there is every appearance of fine weather. If it hold this way I shall be able to travel on Monday. Sundown: A few clouds. Wind, south-east.
Sunday, 9th June, Chain of Ponds. The day has again been fine. Wind, still south-east.
Monday, 10th June, Chain of Ponds. Started at 7.55 a.m., course 275 degrees, with Thring, Woodforde, and Wall, nine horses, and fourteen days' provisions. The first five miles were over a grassy plain, with stunted gum and other trees. It was very soft, the horses sinking up to their knees. We met with a little rain water at three miles, where the soil became sandy; continued to be more so as we advanced, with lancewood and other scrubs growing upon it. At fourteen miles gained the top of a sand rise, which seems to be the termination of the sand hills that I turned back from on my west course south of this. From here the country seems to be a dense forest and scrub; no rising ground visible. Camped at 5 p.m., distance thirty-two miles. The whole journey from the sand hills has been through a dense forest of scrubs of all kinds—hedge-tree, gum, mulga, lancewood, etc. We have had great difficulty in forcing the horses through it so far; they are very tired. It is the thickest scrub I have yet been in. Ground very soft; heavy travelling, with the exception of the last five miles, where little rain seems to have fallen. I am afraid this will be another hopeless journey. I fully expected to have got water to-night from the recent rains, but there is not a drop. The country is such that the surface cannot retain it, were it to fall in much larger quantities. I shall try a little further on to-morrow. I had a hole dug, to see if any rain had fallen, and found that it had penetrated two feet below the surface, below which it is quite dry. Wind, east.
Tuesday, 11th June, Dense Forest and Scrub. Leaving Woodforde, Wall, and the pack-horses, I took Thring with me, and proceeded on the same course to see if I could get through the horrid forest and scrub, or meet with a change of country, or find some water. At two miles we came upon some grass again, which continued, and at another mile the forest became much more open and splendidly grassed, which again revived my sinking hopes; but alas, it only lasted about two miles, when we again entered the forest thicker than ever. At eleven miles it became so dense that it was nearly impenetrable. The horses would not face it; when forced, they made a rush through, tearing everything we had on, and wounding us severely by running against the dead timber (which was as sharp as a lancet) and through the branches. I saw that it was hopeless to force through any further. Not a drop of water have we seen, although the ground is quite moist—the horses sinking above the fetlock. The soil is red and sandy; the mulga from thirty to forty feet high and very straight; the bark has a stringy appearance. There is a great quantity of it lying dead on the ground, which causes travelling to become very difficult. I therefore returned to where I left Woodforde and Wall, and came back ten miles on yesterday's journey, and camped. This morning, about 5.30, we observed a comet bearing 110 degrees; length of tail, 10 degrees, and 10 degrees above the horizon. Wind, south-east.
Wednesday, 12th June, Western Dense Forest and Scrub. Proceeded to camp and found all well. This is the third long journey by which I have tried to make the Victoria in this latitude, but have been driven back every time by the same description of country and the want of water. There is not the least appearance of rising ground, or a change in the country—nothing but the same dismal, dreary forest throughout; it may in all probability continue to Mr. Gregory's last camp on the Camfield. My farthest point has been within a hundred miles of it. I would have proceeded further, but my horses are unable to do it; they look as if they had done a month's excessive work, from their feet being so dry, the forest so thick, and the want of water. Thus end my hopes of reaching the Victoria in this latitude, which is a very great disappointment. I should have dug wells if my party had been larger, and I had had the means of conveying water to those engaged in sinking the wells. I think I could accomplish it in that way; but by doing so, I should have to divide the party into three, (one sinking, one carrying water, and one at the camp), which would be too small a number where the natives appear to be so hostile. I have not the least doubt that water could be obtained at a moderate depth, near the end of my journeys, amongst the long thick timber, which seems to be the lowest part of the country. I had no idea of meeting with such an impediment as the plains and heavy scrub have proved to be. For a telegraphic communication I should think that three or four wells would overcome this difficulty and the want of water, and the forest could be penetrated by cutting a line through and burning it. In all probability there is water to be found nearer than this in the Camfield, Mr. Gregory's last camp, somewhere about its sources, which might be thirty miles nearer. Wind, south-east. Country drying up very fast.
Thursday, 13th June, Chain of Ponds. To-day I shall move the camp to the easternmost part of Newcastle Water, and now that rain has come from the east, I shall try if I can cross Sturt Plains, and endeavour to reach the Gulf of Carpentaria. My provisions are now getting very short. We are reduced to four pounds of flour and one pound of dried meat per man per week, which is beginning to show the effects of starvation upon some of them; but I can leave nothing untried where there is the least shadow of a chance of gaining the desired object. Started at 9.40 a.m. At three miles and a half passed our first camp of Newcastle Water. At eight miles and a half camped at the last water to the eastward. The ground is firmer than I expected, travelling good. The large part of the water is reduced two inches since 24th ultimo. The late rains seem to have no effect on it. Wind, south-east.