We have Bungaree, not as king, but as the humble attendant of Flinders. Flinders represents the scarcity of provisions. The price of fresh meat was so exorbitant that he could not purchase it for his crew. He paid £3 for a sheep, 30 or 40 lbs. weight; pork, 9d. per lb.; 9d. for pollard; Indian corn, 5s. a bushel. What a change has taken place. Now we are exporting meat to England, and at one time boiling down much cattle and sheep, merely for their fat.
Flinders observes, in preparing for his voyage:—“Bungaree, the intelligent native who had accompanied me three years before in my voyage to the north, was selected again, together with a youth named Nambare. I had before experienced much advantage from the presence of a native from Port Jackson, in bringing about a friendly intercourse with the natives on the other parts of the coast. Bungaree the worthy, a brave fellow who sailed with me in the ‘Norfolk,’ volunteered again; and the other was Nambare, a good-natured lad, of whom Colonel Collins has made mention in his account of New South Wales.” I presume this youth must have been the well-known Bungaree, of immortal memory.
The following memoir will supply further particulars of this chieftain’s son:—A Mr. Coxen, who had been very kind to Bungaree, adopted his son, whom he called after his father, and sent him to school with his own sons to the Normal Institution, one of the leading schools of the Colony, in Sydney, of which Mr. Gordon was head-master, thereby giving him the same chance as any European, mixing as he did on an equality with other boys, and receiving the same attention to his studies and habits. He was a boarder with some ninety others, and was, in fact, treated as any young gentleman ought to be. He was not clever mentally, for after six years he only reached the rule of three; could not understand Euclid or foreign languages, but was clever at any manipulations with the pen or pencil. He wrote a beautiful hand, but his spelling was defective. He was clever at all games requiring physical activity, but strange withal, he was exceedingly lazy. He was quick to learn by rote, but did not quite understand all he learned by it. As a specimen of his race he was rather small, and not so quick as many others would have been, had they had the same advantages. He was sent to England to college, but the cold weather and his laziness caused ill health. He returned to the Colonies, and like all his race who have no tribe (having been brought up among white children), he took to stock-riding, occasionally surprising some newly-arrived squatter by exhibiting his writing and knowledge of cyphering. The last heard of him is that he is like any other bushman, making a cheque and knocking it down at the grog shops. It will be easy to guess what will be his end.
CHAPTER VIII.
The aboriginal Jackey Jackey.
This native accompanied the expedition of Mr. Kennedy from Rockingham Bay to Cape York, in 1848, one of the most calamitous attempts at discovery on record, except perhaps Leichhardt’s.
The expedition was over-equipped with twenty-eight horses, three carts, 100 sheep, and ample supplies of all sorts—more like an expedition for settlement than a mere exploring party.
They landed at Rockingham Bay, thirteen in number. Jackey was a native of Patrick’s Plains, and proved himself intelligent, faithful, and trustworthy throughout this very disastrous expedition, in which all but two perished besides Jackey Jackey, who survived after he had faithfully led on the expedition, and, as we shall see by the sequel, watched over Kennedy’s dying moments.
After landing, they pursued their way through swamps and mangrove bush, through which they had to cut their way to make a passage for their sheep, &c. At length they had to abandon their carts and heavy luggage. Jackey Jackey always in the front, the natives proving hostile, they reached a native camp, quite a village, the gunyahs neatly built, of a conical form, about 5½ feet diameter, 6 feet high, substantial, to keep out the rain, with stone ovens for baking, &c., much superior to the usual huts, indicating a better class of natives, but not less ferocious.
The party were now reduced to killing their horses, lean and miserable as they were, seldom meeting any game or fish, and they were attacked by sickness, and the sheep fell away. Their situation became each day more critical, and it became necessary to appoint an advance party to try and reach Cape York. Thus they parted at Weymouth Bay, Kennedy and his party pushing on, leaving eight of their party there, a few of the horses and other stores to subsist on; the object being to reach Cape York, and there to meet a vessel in waiting, and so relieve them.