On the 11th they struck the Oakover in lat. 21° 11′ 23″. This must be a noble river, writes the Colonel, when the floods come down. The bed is wide and gravelly, fringed with magnificent cajeput or paper-bark trees. How grateful was its lovely and shady refuge from the hot fierce sun after the terrible sand-hills among which the travellers had wandered so long!
On the 13th Lewis and an Afghan driver, on the only two camels that could travel, were sent forward to search for the station of Messrs. Harper and Co., and procure some help both in food and carriage. During his absence the Colonel and his companions lived, to use an expressive phrase, from hand to mouth. They could not get the fish to bite; but one day Richard Warburton shot a teal, and they rescued from the talons of a hawk a fine black duck, which supplied them with a splendid dinner. They were compelled, however, to fall back upon their last camel, though he was so lean and worn-out that he did not cut up well. On the 23rd they rejoiced in the capture of a couple of wood-ducks, and they also secured a little honey—a delightful novelty for persons who for many weeks had been deprived of the strengthening and useful properties of sugar. Still, these occasional “tidbits” could not supply the want of regular and nutritious food; and all the travellers could hope for was to stave off actual famine. Day after day passed by, and Lewis did not return. Colonel Warburton had calculated that he would be absent about fourteen days; but the seventeenth came, and yet there was no sign of Lewis. Writing in his journal, Colonel Warburton, on December 20th, sums up his position in a few pithy and pregnant sentences:—“We have abundance of water, a little tobacco, and a few bits of dried camel. Occasionally an iguana or a cockatoo enlivens our fare; and, lastly, I hope the late rain will bring up some thistles or some pig-weed that we can eat. Our difficulties are, to make our meat last, though, so far from doing us good, we are all afflicted with scurvy, diarrhoea, and affection of the kidneys from the use of it. We cannot catch the fish; we cannot find opossums or snakes; the birds won’t sit down by us, and we can’t get up to go to them. We thought we should have no difficulty in feeding ourselves on the river, but it turns out that, from one cause or another, we can get very little, and we are daily dropping down a peg or two lower.” But a few hours after making this entry, the Colonel’s long period of suffering and anxiety was at an end. He and his son were lying down near the little hut of boughs which they had constructed as a shelter, and listlessly eyeing the boy Charley, who had climbed a tree to look for honey, when they were startled by his cry—whether a yell of pain or shout of joy, it was impossible to determine. But in a moment the cause of his emotion was satisfactorily explained; out from the thick brushwood trotted a string of six horses, driven by the gallant Mr. Lewis, accompanied by another white man from a station on the De Grey river. They brought an ample supply of nutritious food, and on the following day some additional stores came up on camels. Mr. Lewis’s apparent delay was soon explained; the station, which belonged to Messrs. Grant, Harper, and Anderson, was one hundred and seventy miles distant.
On the 3rd of January Colonel Warburton started down the river. For the first few days he had to be lifted on his horse’s back, but with good food and moderate exercise he regained something of his old strength, and the journey to the station was accomplished in a week and a day. Ten days were then given to rest under the hospitable roof of Messrs. Grant, and on the 21st he started for Roebourne, one hundred and seventy miles further, arriving there on the 26th. His after stages were Lepack, Fremantle, Perth, Albany. At Glenelg, in South Australia, the Colonel and his companions arrived on Easter Sunday, having travelled by land four thousand miles, and by sea two thousand miles.
The casualties are quickly recorded: the Colonel lost the sight of one eye, and his son’s health was seriously shaken. Out of seventeen camels, only two arrived safely at the station on the De Grey river.
It is almost needless to say that everywhere in West Australia Colonel Warburton was received with the public honours due to a man who has courageously and successfully accomplished a work of equal difficulty and danger. He was entertained in the most generous and cordial manner, and the high utility of his labours was liberally acknowledged. On his return to South Australia he met, of course, with an enthusiastic welcome. A great banquet was given to the explorers, and the Legislative Assembly voted the sum of £1000 to the leader, and £500 to be divided among the subordinates. In 1874 the Royal Geographical Society of London conferred upon him its gold medal, and a few months later the Queen appointed him a Companion of the Order of St. Michael and St. George.
Here closes a simple but stirring narrative, of which it is not, perhaps, too much to say, as has been said, that scarcely has a record of terrible suffering more nobly borne been given to the world. Hunger and thirst, intense physical exhaustion, the burning heat of a tropic sun, the glowing sands of an arid desert—not a single circumstance was wanting that could test the heroic endurance and patient heroism of the explorers. The country through which they toiled day after day was barren, inhospitable, desolate; a wilderness of coarse yellow herbage, a sombre waste of sand-hills. Their hearts were never cheered by bright glimpses of gorgeous scenery, of forests clothed with magnificent vegetation, of rivers pouring their ample waters through sylvan valleys; everywhere the landscape was melancholy and unprofitable. He who, with his life in his hand, penetrates the frozen recesses of the Polar World, and dares its storms of snow and its icy winds, has at least the inspiration to support him that springs from the grandeur of huge cliffs of ice and vast glaciers and white-gleaming peaks outlined against a deep blue sky. But in the wide Australian interior the landscape is always marked by the same monotony of dreariness, the same uniformity of gloom; and it tests and taxes the traveller’s energies to rise superior to its depressing influences.
The reader, therefore, will feel that “the Municipal Council and inhabitants of Fremantle” used no language of undeserved eulogy when, in their address of welcome to Colonel Egerton Warburton, they said—
“The difficulties to be overcome in the work of Australian exploration are acknowledged to be as formidable as are to be found in any part of our globe, and to meet these difficulties requires a combination of intelligence, energy, perseverance, and fortitude that few men possess; and the fact that you have surmounted all obstacles, and borne up under so many privations, has awakened in all our minds the deepest feelings of gratitude and admiration.” [324]