It was no very long time afterwards that an unfortunate accident happened to the little native child, Ballandella, who fell from a cart, and one of the wheels passing over, broke her thigh. On riding up to the spot, Major Mitchell found the widow, her mother, in great distress, lying in the dust, with her head under the limb of her unfortunate child. The doctor was ordered to set it immediately; but, from its being broken very near the socket, it was found difficult to bandage the limb so as to keep the bone in its place. Every possible care was taken of the child, and she bore the pain with admirable patience, though only four years old; while she gave a curious proof of her good sense at so early an age, by calling for “Majy” (the Major), as soon as she had met with the accident. Little Ballandella did very well, and was, after about two months’ time, fast recovering from her misfortune, when the widow, having been travelling all that time, and being now far distant from her own country, felt inclined to return; and was prepared to make nothing of swimming the broad waters of the Murray, the largest known river in New Holland, pushing the child before her floating upon a piece of bark, nor of any other difficulties which might oppose her in her journey homewards. No objections were offered to the woman’s departure, who appeared extremely attached to her daughter, and half afraid of being deprived of her. Indeed, it was a tempting opportunity of trying an experiment of the effect of education upon one of that race; for the little savage, who at first would prefer a snake or lizard to a piece of bread, had become so far civilised at length, as to prefer bread; and it began to cry bitterly on leaving its European friends. However, its absence from them was not to be a long one; for, on the third day, the widow returned again, carrying her child on her back, after the Australian fashion. She had seen, she stated, another tribe on the opposite side of the river, and they had inquired very angrily, who made the fires upon her side; after which, receiving no reply, (for she was afraid and had hid herself,) they danced a corrobory in a furious style, during which she and the child crept away, and had passed two nights without fire and in the rain.[80] The mother and her daughter received a kindly welcome, and were as well treated as before, notwithstanding the petty jealousy of some other natives, who, it was thought, had persuaded Turàndurey to go, hoping thus to get a greater share of food for themselves. After this, the widow and Ballandella continued with the exploring party during almost the whole of the remainder of their expedition, making themselves serviceable in various ways. Sometimes they would give notice of the approach of the Major, upon his return from an excursion, long before he had reached the camp; their quick ears seemed sensible of the sound of horses’ feet at an astonishing distance, for so only could it be accounted for that the widow and her infant daughter, seated at the fire, were always the first to give notice of the Major’s approach. Sometimes Turàndurey would employ herself in a less serious, though not less useful manner; for on such exploring expeditions the amusement of the men is a matter of the first importance. She would exercise her skill in mimicry or imitation, powers which the natives of New Holland possess to an amazing degree; and she thus occasionally amused the men by acting the part of their leader, taking angles, drawing from nature, and copying other occupations in which Major Mitchell was frequently engaged.
On the return of the expedition, it was found needful, from a scarcity of provisions, to divide into two parties, one of which was to proceed, under the leader, by forced marches home to Sydney, while the other was to remain behind until necessary supplies should be forwarded. The widow was among the party to be left; but on the morning of separation she was marked with white round the eyes,—the Australian token of mourning,—and the face of Ballandella was whitened also. This poor woman, who had cheerfully carried the child upon her back, when it was offered that both might be carried in the carts, and was as careful and affectionate as any mother could be, had at length determined to entrust to the Major the care of her daughter. He was pleased with this proof of confidence, and less unwilling to take the charge from the knowledge of the wretched state of slavery to which the native females are doomed. Besides, the poor child had suffered considerably by the accident that befel her while with the party of Englishmen, and she seemed to prefer their mode of living so much, that her mother at length despaired of being ever able to instruct her thoroughly in the mysteries of killing and eating snakes, lizards, rats, and similar food. The widow had been long enough with Europeans to learn how much more her sex was respected by civilised men than by savages; and it was with feelings of this nature, probably, that she entrusted her child to them, under the immediate care, however, of a native woman, the wife of Piper, the guide who had accompanied them through all the journey. A match was subsequently made between Turàndurey and king Joey, one of the native chiefs, by which the good woman gained a handsome and comfortable settlement for an Australian. The child Ballandella was a welcome stranger to the Major’s own children, among whom she remained, conforming most willingly to the habits of domestic life, and showing a very promising aptness of understanding, until she was transferred, at the removal of the family to England, to the care of a friend; and the last mention made of Ballandella is, that she was able to read as well as any white child of the same age.
Miago.—This last sketch of native character may serve to place in a striking, yet fair light, the perplexing situation of the half-civilised blacks, the strong inducements for them to relapse into barbarism again, and, consequently, the difficulty that stands in the way of their being thoroughly reclaimed. It is impossible to do this better than in the very words of Captain Grey.[81] “The officers of the Beagle took away with them a native of the name of Miago, who remained absent with them for several months. I saw him on the north-west coast, on board the Beagle, apparently perfectly civilised; he waited at the gun-room mess, was temperate, (never tasting spirits,) attentive, cheerful, and remarkably clean in his person. The next time I saw him was at Swan River, where he had been left on the return of the Beagle. He was then again a savage, almost naked, painted all over, and had been concerned in several murders. Several persons here told me,—‘You see the taste for a savage life was strong in him, and he took to the bush again directly.’ Let us pause for a moment and consider.
“Miago, when he was landed, had amongst the white people none who would be truly friends of his;—they would give him scraps from their table, but the very outcasts of the whites would not have treated him as an equal,—they had no sympathy with him,—he could not have married a white woman,—he had no certain means of subsistence open to him,—he never could have been either a husband or a father, if he had lived apart from his own people;—where, amongst the whites, was he to find one who would have filled for him the place of his black mother, whom he is much attached to? What white man would have been his brother? What white woman his sister? He had two courses left open to him,—he could either have renounced all natural ties, and have led a hopeless, joyless life among the whites, ever a servant, ever an inferior being; or he could renounce civilisation, and return to the friends of his childhood, and to the habits of his youth. He chose the latter course, and I think that I should have done the same.”
sydney in its infancy—view from the south.
CHAPTER VII.
FIRST YEARS OF THE COLONY OF NEW SOUTH WALES.