The facts of the dreadful massacre on Liverpool Plains may be gathered from the charge delivered by Judge Burton on passing sentence of death upon the criminals, and exhibit barbarity horrible to think of:—
“Prisoners at the bar, you have been found guilty of the murders of the aborigines at Liverpool Plains—men, women, and children. The circumstances of these murders are so atrocious that you must be prepared for what the result must be. This is not a case where death has ensued from drunkenness, nor the murder of one individual, but probably of thirty poor defenceless beings.
“The blacks round their fires at night were suddenly surrounded by an armed body of you prisoners at the bar. The blacks fled to one of your huts for safety. In that hut, amidst the tears, sobs, and groans of these unhappy victims, you bound them—father, mother, and children—together, and then led them to common destruction.
“Nothing else but the grace of God could reach men’s hearts so hardened as to slay father, mother, and children. To conceal the affair you burnt the bodies, swept the place, and removed the remains, but hundreds of birds of prey floating in the air awakened the attention of the neighbourhood, and notwithstanding every precaution a jaw-bone with teeth was found, while, as it rained the day before the deed, the traces of horsemen, of men, &c., with naked feet, being blacks, were left visible to the place, while there was no trace of the blacks returning. This offence was not without premeditation, as it is certain the whites were mustered from down the river to help, and on Sunday you closed that day with the murder of these blacks.
“I cannot but look upon you with commiseration. You were placed in a dangerous situation, entirely removed from religious instruction, 150 miles from any police station, by which you could have been controlled, &c., &c.” The Judge then passed sentence of death in the usual manner.
Certainly the case was one of great criminality and diabolical in the execution; but these unfortunate men were left in the solitude by their employers, without any correcting good, and were taught by influential persons to look upon the blacks as not human beings. Religion after all is the great panacea to heal nations, for it is righteousness that exalteth them.
The influence of crime on the virtuous portions of society, either as to its costliness or insecurity of life and property, is very serious, and demands much statesmanship; the solution of the problem lies in conservatism.
In 1875, the South Australian Register published the following notes on the aborigines met with on the trip of Mr. Lewis’s exploring party to Lake Eyre, by Mr. F. W. Andrews, collecting naturalist to the expedition:—
“The first natives we met with after leaving Mount Margaret were on the Macumba Creek, where a small number visited our camp in a very quiet and friendly manner. They were young men and a boy or two. They could not speak any English, except one or two very commonplace words, as ‘whitefellow,’ &c. Their food appeared to consist of snakes (morelia) of the boa tribe, lizards, rats, &c., but the principal food at this season of the year (December) appears to be the dried fruit of the pigs’-faces (mesembryan-themum), which they gather in large quantities and store by until wanted, or as long as it will keep. The quantity they consume at a time is something enormous, and it appears to be very nutritious and fattening food, no doubt from the large amount of saccharine matter it affords. They wear no covering for the body, except the men, some of whom wear a small fringed curtain in front of their persons. This is sometimes made of the tail of the pouched hare (Peragalia lagotis), the white tips of which are worked into a very neat and ornamental covering. This is called ‘Thippa.’ They also wear a similar fringe, only larger, made of wallaby or rat’s hair, which they call ‘Unpa.’ The ends of the tails of the native rabbit or pouched hare are carefully saved up until about forty or fifty in number are fastened in rows, forming a very attractive adornment; they have, however, often as many as from 150 to 200 in one bunch. The weapons they carry with them when visiting are few and simple, consisting of a yam-stick for digging out rats, &c., and an awkwardly-made boomerang. I found that they had plenty of spears, and large two-handed boomerangs like immense wooden scimitars. These they kept out of sight on most occasions. They had some very neatly-constructed trough-like water-vessels, which they called ‘Pirras.’ The men were finely-formed young fellows, with pleasing and regular features, and one, in particular, had beautifully-formed olive eyes; he was a very handsome young fellow, and we all admired him very much. Through our native interpreter, ‘Coppertop,’ who joined us at Strangways, we were enabled to converse with them. They were very anxious for rain, as they could not travel far away from the waterholes on the creeks. Travelling further on towards Lake Eyre, we met with several wild-looking lots—plenty of men, women, and children—all looking very hearty and contented. The old men were about having a meeting to ‘make rain,’ and as it looked likely for rain, they would no doubt before long be able to again astonish their tribe by their power as ‘rain-makers.’
“We were now keeping a strict night-watch, as (if they meant no mischief ‘leading to human gore’) they were diligently intent on what they called ‘tealing.’ It was evident, by the cut timber about the creeks, that they had axes or tomahawks, and on inquiry ‘where blackfellow got um tomahawk,’ the answer received was, ‘him teal um along a whitefellow.’ There is no doubt they had stolen several during the construction of the overland telegraph. They, however, always kept these tomahawks out of our sight. Knives, tomahawks, &c., are their principal weaknesses; but they will steal anything they can lay their hands (or toes) on. Our interpreter, ‘Coppertop,’ having arrived in his own country, the Macumba, made tracks, leaving his clothes, which were transferred to another young man who joined us. Tommy was his name, and he had a good smattering of English, from having been with the telegraph construction parties for some time, and was very useful as a guide and interpreter. One day, when travelling, we met with natives—‘outsiders,’ whose patois Tommy was unacquainted with, and he cried out in despair, ‘Me cant hear um.’ Tommy was of a very inquiring turn of mind, and thinking sugar was “dug up” at some ‘berry good place,’ he one day asked the question, ‘When we catch um that big one sandhill all same where whitefellow get um sugar?’