explorers finding the bed of a dried up river.
CHAPTER II.
THE BUSH IN THE INTERIOR.
It needs only a single glance at the map of New Holland to see that, like most other countries, and even more than most others, the coasts are well known, while the interior parts are comparatively undiscovered, and, to a great extent, totally so. And, although a much more minute description of the shores of this immense island might easily be given, although we might accompany Flinders or King in their navigation of its intricate seas, and survey of its long line of coast, yet this part of the subject must necessarily be passed over without detaining us any further. A very considerable portion of the sea-coast of New Holland is not much unlike that in the Gulph of Carpentaria, in the north part of the island, where, when Captain Flinders had reached the highest spot he could find in 175 leagues of coast,—this loftiest hill did not much exceed the height of the ship’s masthead! And where the shores are not of this exceedingly level character, they are usually sterile, sandy, and broken, so as to offer rather an uninviting aspect to the stranger. It is obvious that, in either case, whether the coast be flat or barren, there may be many beautiful and lovely districts within a day’s journey inland; and nothing is more absurd than to take exception against the whole of a country merely because its borders and boundaries are forbidding. In the case of New Holland, it is true, the same sort of barrenness extends itself very much into the interior of the land; but, if we pursue the patient footsteps and daring discoveries of those few Europeans who have penetrated far into its inland parts, we shall find many interesting scenes described, and much both of the sublime and beautiful in nature brought before us.
One of the principal scenes on which have been displayed the perseverance and courage of the explorers of the interior is the banks of the river Darling. This stream, which has its source on the western side of the long range of mountains running parallel with the coast, and called in the colony the Blue Mountains, carries off the drainage of an immense extent of country, to the westward and north-westward of New South Wales. In fact, except in the southern parts of that colony, where the Lachlan and Murrumbidgee carry off the waters which do not fall eastwards to the coast, all the streams that rise upon or beyond the Blue Mountains, and take a westerly direction, finally meet together in the basin of the Darling.[14] It might be imagined that a river into which is carried the drainage of so extensive a district would be always well supplied with water, and so it would be in other countries, but the streams of New Holland are altogether different from those in other parts of the world. Comparatively, indeed, the Darling does assert its superiority over most of the other water-courses of that country; for, at a season when their channels were, in general, absolutely without water, or dwindled down into mere chains of muddy ponds, the Darling still continued to wind its slow current, carrying a supply of excellent water through the heart of a desert district. Along the weary plains by which its course is bounded, it proceeds for not less than 660 miles,[15] without receiving, so far as is known, a single tributary stream; and, from its waters being occasionally salt, it is supposed to owe its support, in its reduced state during very dry seasons, chiefly to natural springs. Its bed is, on an average, about sixty feet below the common surface of the country. There are no traces of water-courses on the level plains, and it would appear that, whatever moisture descends from the higher grounds, which (where there are any at all,) are seldom less than twelve miles from the Darling, must be taken up by the clayey soil, so as scarcely to find its way down to the river, except it be by springs. The average breadth of the stream at the surface, when low, is about fifty yards, but oftener less than this, and seldom more. The fall of the country through which it passes, in that part of its course through the interior, which was first explored by Major Mitchell, is very trifling; and it is the opinion of that officer, that the swiftness of its course never exceeds one mile per hour, but that it is in general much less. At the time of the Major’s expedition, the water actually flowing, as seen at one or two shallow places, did not exceed in quantity that which would be necessary to turn a mill. But, with all this scantiness of supply during the dry season then prevailing,[16] the marks of tremendous inundations were plain upon the surface of the country, frequently extending two miles back from the ordinary channel of the waters. And everywhere the banks of the river displayed the effect of floods in parallel lines, marking on the smooth sloping earth the various heights to which the waters had at different periods arisen. The surface of the plains nearest the river is unlike any part of the earth’s face that the travellers had elsewhere seen. It was clear of vegetation, like a fallow-field, but less level, and quite full of holes, big enough to receive the whole leg, and sometimes the body, of the unfortunate persons who might slip into them. Galloping or trotting in such a country was out of the question, and as the surface of this dry and cracked soil was soft and loose, it was very fatiguing for draught. Six of the bullocks accompanying the expedition never returned from the Darling. Yet, how much preferable was the country, even in this state, to that in which a flood would have placed it; for, had rainy weather, or any overflowing of the river, happened, travelling upon the banks of the Darling would have become absolutely impossible.
But the river Darling itself, though it appears as a principal and independent stream during so long a course, is, we have little reason to doubt, no more than an important tributary to the chief of Australian rivers, the Murray. This last channel collects eventually all the waters flowing in a westward direction upon the eastern side of New Holland, between the latitudes of 28° S. and 36° S. The Darling, the Lachlan, and the Murrumbidgee, without mentioning streams of minor importance, all find their way southwards into the basin of the Murray, which is really a noble river, and does not seem subject to the same deplorable impoverishment, which most of the others suffer in very dry seasons. It was very earnestly anticipated that the mouth of a stream like this would probably form a good harbour, and thus afford a reasonable prospect of its hereafter becoming a busy navigable river, the means of furnishing inland communication to a considerable distance. This is, of all things, what New Holland appears most to want, but the want is not (as we shall shortly find) adequately supplied by the entrance to the Murray. A like failure occurs at the entrance of other Australian rivers, as in the instance of a much smaller but very beautiful stream, the Glenelg, which falls into a shallow basin within the sandy hills of the southern coast, the outlet being between two rocky heads, but choked up with the sands of the beach. We cannot, while we read of the scanty means of inland navigation, with which it has pleased Divine Providence to favour an island so enormous as New Holland, but feel thankful for the abundant advantages of this kind which our own native islands possess; but at the same time there is no reason to despair, even yet, of a navigable river being discovered in New Holland;[17] or, at the worst, the modern invention of rail-roads may supersede, in a great measure, the need of other communication.
It would be impossible to compress into a moderate compass the various interesting particulars, which have been related of the rivers of New Holland and their neighbouring districts; but for this and much other pleasing information the reader may be referred, once for all, to the works of those travellers, whose names have been already so frequently mentioned. It is a curious fact that almost every stream of the least consequence in New Holland, appears to have its peculiar features, and a character and scenery of its own, which continue throughout its course, so that it could often be recognised by travellers coming upon it a second time, and at a different part of its career towards the sea. The beautifully-timbered plains, or the limestone cliffs of the noble Murray—the naked plains that bound on either side the strip of forest-trees of huge dimensions, by which the Lachlan is bordered,—the constantly full stream, the water-worn and lightly-timbered banks, the clear open space between the river and its distant margin of reeds, which mark the character of the Murrumbidgee,—the low grassy banks or limestone rocks, the cascades and caverns, the beautiful festoons of creeping plants, the curious form of the duck-billed platypus,[18] which are to be found on the Glenelg; the sandstone wastes of the Wollondilly, the grassy surface of the pretty Yarrayne,[19] with its trees on its brink instead of on its bank; the peculiar grandeur of the tremendous ravine, 1,500 feet in depth, down which the Shoalhaven flows; these and many more remarkable features of scenery in the Australian rivers, would afford abundance of materials for description either in poetry or prose. But we can now notice only one more peculiarity which most of these streams exhibit; they have, at a greater or less distance from their proper channels, secondary banks, beyond which floods rarely or never are known to extend. In no part of the habitable world is the force of contrast more to be observed than in Australia. A very able scientific writer[20] has ingeniously represented three persons travelling in certain directions across Great Britain, and finishing their journeys with three totally different impressions of the soil, country, and inhabitants; one having passed through a rocky and mining district, the second through a coal country peopled by manufacturers, and a third having crossed a chalky region devoted entirely to agriculture. An observation of this kind is even still more true of New Holland. And, consequently, when, instead of pursuing the course of certain similar lines of country, the traveller crosses these, the changes that take place in the appearance and productions of the various districts are exceedingly striking and follow sometimes in very rapid succession. A few examples of these contrasts, which arise in Australia from the nature of the seasons, as well as from that of the soil or climate, may here be noticed. How great a change did the exploring party under Major Mitchell experience, when, after tracing for forty-nine days the dry bed of the Lachlan, they suddenly saw a magnificent stream of clear and running water before them, and came upon the Murrumbidgee. Its banks, unlike those of the former channel, were clothed with excellent grass; a pleasing sight for the cattle—and it was no slight satisfaction to their possessors to see the jaded animals, after thirsting so long among the muddy holes of the Lachlan, drinking at this full and flowing stream. And yet, so different are the series of seasons, at intervals, that, down the very river of which Mitchell speaks in 1836 as a deep, dry ravine, containing only a scanty chain of small ponds, the boats of its first explorer, Mr. Oxley, had, in 1817, floated during a space of fifteen days, until they had reached a country almost entirely flooded, and the river seemed completely to lose itself among the shallow waters! During the winter of 1835, the whale-boats were drawn by the exploring party 1,600 miles over land,[21] without finding a river, where they could be used; whereas, in 1817 and 1818, Mr. Oxley had twice retired by nearly the same routes, and in the same season of the year, from supposed inland seas![22] So that, in fact, we rise from the perusal of two accounts of travellers of credit, both exploring the very same country, with the impression, from one statement, that there exists an endless succession of swamps, or an immense shallow, inland lake; where, from the other, we are taught to believe, there is nothing but a sandy desert to be found, or dry and cracked plains of clay, baked hard by the heat of the sun.
Changes of this sort in the seasons, affecting so powerfully the appearance of whole districts, cannot but have a proportionable effect on particular spots. Regent’s Lake, the “noble lake,” as its first discoverer, Oxley, called it, was, when Mitchell visited it, for the most part, a plain covered with luxuriant grass;[23] some good water, it is true, lodged on the most eastern extremity, but nowhere to a greater depth than a foot. There ducks and swans, in vast numbers, had taken refuge, and pelicans stood high upon their legs above the remains of Regent’s Lake. On its northern margin, and within the former boundary of the lake, stood dead trees of a full-grown size, which had been apparently killed by too much water, plainly showing to what long periods the extremes of drought and moisture have extended, and may again extend, in this singular country. And some of the changes in scenery, within a short distance, and frequently arising from the same causes, the presence or absence of water, are very remarkable. In Major Mitchell’s journal, at the date of April 10th, may be found the following observations: “We had passed through valleys, on first descending from the mountains, where the yellow oat-grass resembled a ripe crop of grain. But this resemblance to the emblem of plenty, made the desolation of these hopeless solitudes only the more apparent, abandoned, as they then were, alike by man, beast, and bird. No living thing remained in these valleys, for water, that element so essential to life, was a want too obvious in the dismal silence, (for not an insect hummed,) and the yellow hues of withering vegetation.” On the next page of the journal, under the events of the following day, what a contrast appears:—“The evening was beautiful; the new grass springing in places where it had been burnt, presented a shining verdure in the rays of the descending sun; the songs of the birds accorded here with other joyous sounds, the very air seemed alive with the music of animated nature, so different was the scene in this well-watered valley, from that of the parched and silent region from which we had just descended. The natives, whom we met here, were fine-looking men, enjoying contentment and happiness, within the precincts of their native woods.” They were very civil, and presented a burning stick to the strangers, at the moment when they saw that they wanted fire, in a manner expressive of welcome and of a wish to assist them. At a distance were the native fires, and the squalling of children might be heard, until at night the beautiful moon came forth, and the soft notes of a flute belonging to one of the Englishmen fell agreeably on the ear, while the eye was gratified by the moonbeams, as they gleamed from the trees, amid the curling smoke of the temporary encampment. The cattle were refreshing themselves in green pastures. It was Saturday night, and next day the party was to rest. How sweet a spot to repose from their toils and sufferings, and to lift up their hearts towards the mercy-seat of Him,—
“Who, in the busy crowded town,
Regards each suppliant’s cry;—
Who, whether Nature smile or frown,
Man’s wants can still supply.”
One of the greatest victories over natural difficulties that was ever gained by British courage and perseverance, was the exploring of the course of the Morrumbidgee and Murray rivers by Captain Sturt and his party, in the year 1830; and since their route was through a new country, and their descent from the high lands south-westward of Sydney, to the southern coast of New Holland was an amazing enterprise to project, much more to accomplish, an abridged account of it may not be unacceptable to the reader. And when it is remembered that the sight of the gallant officer commanding this expedition, was sacrificed almost entirely to “the effect of exposure and anxiety of mind in the prosecution of geographical researches,”[24] this fact may add to the interest which we feel in his adventures. The Murrumbidgee is a river which runs westerly from the district called Yass Plains, situated very nearly at the south-western extremity of New South Wales. It was for the purpose of exploring the course of this fine stream, that Captain Sturt was sent out at the latter end of 1829, and he had reached by land-conveyance a swampy region exactly resembling those marshes in which the Lachlan and Macquarie rivers had been supposed by Mr. Oxley to lose themselves. To proceed further by land was impossible, and, since they had brought with them a whale-boat, which had been drawn by oxen for many a weary mile, it was resolved to launch this on the river, a smaller boat was built in seven days only, and both boats being laden with necessaries, and manned with six hands, arrangements were made for forming a depôt, and the rest of the party were sent back; and when the explorers thus parted company in the marshy plains of the Morrumbidgee, it appeared doubtful even to themselves whether they were ever likely to meet again in this world. Of the country, whither the stream would carry the little crew of adventurers, literally nothing was known. There might be a vast inland sea,—and then how could they hope with their frail barks to navigate it in safety for the very first time? Or, even if they did so, how were they to force their way back again to the remote dwelling-places of civilised man? The river might gradually waste itself among the morasses; and then, with their boats become useless for want of depth of water, how were they to walk across those endless levels of soft mud? or, supposing that to be practicable, how were their provisions to be conveyed, or whence, then, except from their boats, could they hope for a supply? Questions of this nature must have offered themselves to the minds of the daring spirits, who accompanied Captain Sturt; nor can due justice be rendered to their courage without a careful consideration of the dangers which they deliberately braved.