On the 27th of May he came upon three black gins and some children collecting nardoo, which was so abundant in some places that the ground was quite covered with it. The native women directed him to their camp, and he was soon afterwards overtaken by about twenty blacks, who were bent upon taking him to it, promising him nardoo and fish. One carried his shovel, another insisted in such a friendly manner on taking his swag that Wills could not refuse. They were greatly amused with various little things he had. In the evening he partook of a supper of fish and nardoo, and one of the old men shared his gunyah with poor Wills. The night was very cold. Next morning he left the friendly blacks. During the day he felt very unwell. On the 29th the tottering man saw some crows quarrelling about something near the water. He found it to be a large fish. The crows had eaten a large portion of it, but he, finding it fresh and good, decided the quarrel by eating the remainder of it. The fish proved a valuable addition to his otherwise scanty meal of nardoo porridge. That night he slept in a very comfortable mia-mia, about eleven miles from the depôt. On the 30th of May he reached his destination, but found no trace of anybody except the blacks having been there, although Wright and Brahé had visited the place only twenty-two days before, at the time when Burke and himself were being treated so generously by the blacks on the lower part of the creek. He deposited the journals and a notice stating the wretched condition of himself and companions. Next day he started on his return journey, although his exertions had made him very tired and weak. In the evening he camped under some bushes in a sheltered gully, thinking he would reach the blacks' camp next day. But next day he felt altogether too weak and exhausted, and had extreme difficulty in getting across numerous small gullies, and soon was obliged to stop and rest himself. The following morning at 6.30 he again started, thinking to breakfast with the blacks, but found himself so very much fatigued that he did not arrive at their camp till ten o'clock; but his expectations of receiving a good breakfast were disappointed, for the camp was by this time deserted. He rested here awhile, and breakfasted off a few fish-bones which the blacks had left. The disappointed man then started down the creek, hoping by a late march to reach his companions, but soon found this was out of the question. By good luck he came across a large fish, about a pound and a half in weight, being choked by another which it had tried to swallow, but which had stuck in its throat. The hungry man soon made a fire, and had both fish cooked and eaten. He was awakened next morning by the encouraging sounds of cooeys, then fancied he saw smoke in the distance; and was afterwards set at ease by hearing a cooey from one of his former black friends, who also continually repeated assurances of bread and fish. With some difficulty the weary man managed to ascend a sandy path leading to the natives' camp. He was conducted by the chief to the fire, where there was a large pile of fish cooked in the most approved style. He imagined it was for general consumption by the half-dozen natives who had gathered round; but it turned out they had all eaten, and expected Wills to dispose of it all. He set to work at the task, and to his own astonishment accomplished it by keeping two or three blacks steadily at work extricating the bones for him. Fish finished, then came a supply of nardoo cake and water, till he was so full that he was unable to eat any more. The native who called Wills to the camp allowed him a short time to recover himself, and then filled a large bowl with raw nardoo flour, and mixed it into a thin paste. This mixture is a most insinuating article to the blacks, and esteemed by them as a great delicacy. They then invited Wills to stop, but he declined; although, he says, he would have liked to have stopped and lived with them in order to learn something of their ways and manners. He continued his return journey, and on the 6th of June reached Burke and King.
The three men had been so well treated by the blacks that they now decided on shifting their camp nearer to them, and set out with such things as they could carry, but found themselves very weak, in spite of the abundant supplies of food they had lately had. Poor Wills could scarcely get along, although carrying the lightest swag (about 30 lbs.). They found that the blacks had decamped from the place where Wills had last seen them, so they moved on to the camp near the nardoo field. The almost exhausted men managed to reach the nardoo field, but, greatly to their disappointment, no blacks were there. The explorers took possession of the best mia-mia and rested.
Until the 24th of June these unfortunate men lived on the field, going out daily to gather the nardoo, and then returning to the hut in order to clean and pound the seeds. After eating the last piece of dried camel's flesh, they found that although the nardoo was in abundance, it was so innutritive that by itself it could not support them. Wills it would not sustain at all, and the poor young man wrote in his diary: "I am determined to chew tobacco and eat less of the nardoo." Burke, after a few days, showed signs of caving in. King managed to live on the nardoo; it seemed to agree with him better than with his companions. However, Wills became so weak as to be unable even to crawl about, and on the 24th wrote: "Little chance of anything but starvation unless we get hold of some blacks."
The little clothing they had could not keep out the cold, and during the nights they suffered terribly from it. Wills' wardrobe consisted of a wide-awake hat, merino shirt, regatta shirt without sleeves, remains of a pair of flannel trousers, and a waistcoat, of which he had managed to keep the pockets together. His companions were better off. The three men had with them for bedding—two small camel pads, some horsehair, two or three little bits of rag, and pieces of oil-cloth saved from the fire.
It is impossible to imagine the state of mind these three unfortunate men were then in. The expedition that ended so disastrously for them had started ten months before with the most brilliant prospects, and now three of its members were on the point of starvation and dying of fatigue. Unless they received assistance very soon, the three men must undoubtedly perish. After consulting together it was agreed that Wills should be left alone in the gunyah, while his two companions went in search of the blacks. With great reluctance the two men packed up food enough to last them a couple of days, but hesitated at leaving their dying companion. They repeatedly desired his candid opinion, and he again and again urged them to go, saying, "It is our only chance." After placing the nardoo and firewood near his bed, Burke and King sorrowfully took leave of him; and then, tottering along like two worn-out beggar-men, they set out in search of succour.
Wills maintained the uniformity of his cheerful disposition, and the last entry in his diary, written without a complaint a few days before he expired, moves us to admiration of his fine, manly qualities. Here it is:—"I am weaker than ever, although I have a good appetite and relish the nardoo much, but it seems to give us no nutriment, and the birds here are so sly as not to be got at. Even if we could get fish, I doubt whether we could do much on that and nardoo alone. Nothing now but the greatest good luck can save any of us. As for me, I may live four or five days if the weather continues warm. My pulse is at forty-eight and very weak, and my legs and arms are nearly skin and bone. I can only look out, like Mr. Micawber, for something to turn up. Starvation on nardoo is by no means unpleasant, but for the weakness one feels and the utter inability to move one's self. As for my appetite, it gives me the greatest satisfaction. Certainly, fat and sugar would be more to one's taste; in fact, these seem to be the great stand-by in this extraordinary continent. Not that I mean to deprecate farinaceous food, but the want of sugar and fat in all substances obtained here makes them become almost useless to us as articles of food without the addition of something else." Soon after (perhaps a few hours) the departure of his companions, the hand of death put an end to the sufferings of poor Wills. It was a terribly hard fate for one so young and full of promise to meet there in the lonely wilderness, without the sympathetic and encouraging presence of a friendly voice to break the mournful silence, with no gentle hand to administer the last kind soothing offices of humanity.
Let us now follow the two remaining sufferers. In travelling the first day Burke seemed very weak, and complained of great pain in his back and legs. Next day he seemed better, and said he thought he was getting stronger; but on starting did not get more than two miles, when he found he could go no further. King persisted in his trying to go on, and managed to get him along several times, until Burke was almost knocked up. He said he could not carry his swag, and threw all he had away. King did likewise, and took nothing but a gun, some powder and shot, a small pouch, and some matches. They did not go far before Burke said they should halt for the night. King prevailed on him to go a little further on to a less exposed spot, where they camped. King searched about and found a few small patches of nardoo. He collected and pounded some of the seeds, and with a crow which he had shot, the two worn-out men made a good evening's meal. From the time they halted Burke grew worse, and, although he ate his supper, said he felt convinced he could not last many hours. He gave King his watch and pocket-book, and also wrote some notes. He then said, "I hope you will remain with me here till I am quite dead. It is a comfort to know that some one is by; but when I am dying it is my wish that you should leave my pistol in my right hand, and that you leave me unburied as I lie." That night he spoke very little. On the following morning he was speechless, or nearly so, and about eight o'clock he expired. Thus the gallant Burke ended his brave and noble career. King saw there was no use remaining there any longer, and wandered about in the most forlorn condition. "I felt very lonely," he says. We can well imagine that, and everything around must have sadly reminded him of his late companions in misfortune. He wandered up the creek in search of the natives, and at night usually slept in deserted wurleys belonging to them. Two days after leaving the spot where Burke died he came across some gunyahs, in one of which the natives had left a bag of nardoo sufficient to last the hungry man a fortnight. After remaining there two days he returned to Wills, taking back with him two crows which he had shot.
On his arrival King found that his fellow-sufferer, whom he had grown to love so dearly, was lying dead in the hut, and that the natives had been there and taken away some of the clothes. He buried the corpse, and remained a few days. Then, as his stock of nardoo was getting low, and he was unable to gather any more, he tracked the natives that had been in the camp by their footprints in the sand some distance down the creek, shooting crows and hawks on the road. Soon he came up to the blacks, and afterwards kept with them until rescued by the relief-party. How he lived we learn from his own narrative:—
"The natives, hearing the report of the gun, came to meet me, and took me with them to their camp, giving me nardoo and fish. They took the birds I had shot, and cooked them for me, and afterwards showed me a gunyah, where I was to sleep with three of the single men. The following morning they commenced talking to me, and putting one finger on the ground and covering it with sand, at the same time pointing up the creek, saying, 'White fellow,' which I understood to mean that one white man was dead. From this, I knew that they were the tribe who had taken Mr. Wills's clothes. They then asked me where the third white man was, and I also made the sign of putting the fingers on the ground, and covering them with sand, at the same time pointing up the creek. They appeared to feel great compassion for me when they understood that I was alone on the creek, and gave me plenty to eat. After being four days with them, I saw that they were becoming tired of me, and they made signs that they were going up the creek, and that I had better go downwards; but I pretended not to understand them. The same day they shifted camp, and I followed them; and on reaching their camp, I shot some crows, which pleased them so much that they made me a shelter in the centre of their camp, and came and sat round until such time as the crows were cooked, when they assisted me to eat them. The same day one of the women, to whom I had given part of a crow, came and gave me a ball of nardoo, saying that she would give me more, only she had such a sore arm that she was unable to pound. She showed me a sore on her arm, and the thought struck me that I would boil some water in the billy, and wash her arm with a sponge. During the operation the whole tribe sat around, and were muttering one to another. The husband sat down by her side, and she was crying all the time. After I had washed it, I touched it with some caustic, when she began to yell and ran off, crying, 'Mokow! mokow!' (Fire! fire!). From this time she and her husband used to give me a small quantity of nardoo both night and morning, and whenever the tribe were about going on a fishing excursion, he used to give me notice to go with them. They also used to assist me in making a shelter whenever they shifted camp. I generally shot a crow, or a hawk, and gave it to them in return for these little services. Every four or five days the tribe would surround me, and ask whether I intended going up or down the creek. At last I made them understand that if they went up I should go up the creek, and if they went down, I should also go down; and from this time they seemed to look upon me as one of themselves, and supplied me with fish and nardoo regularly. They were very anxious, however, to know where Burke lay, and one day when we were fishing in the water-holes close by, I took them to the spot. On seeing the remains, the whole party wept bitterly, and covered them with bushes. After this they were much kinder to me than before, and I always told them that the white men would be here before two moons; and in the evening, when they came with nardoo and fish, they used to talk about the 'white fellows' coming, at the same time pointing to the moon. I also told them they would receive many presents, and they constantly asked me for tomahawks, called by them 'bomay ho.' From this time to when the relief-party arrived, a period of about a month, they treated me with uniform kindness, and looked upon me as one of themselves. The day on which I was released, one of the tribe who had been fishing came and told me that the 'white fellows' were coming, and the whole of the tribe who were then in camp sallied out in every direction to meet the party, while the man who brought the news took me over the creek, where I shortly saw the party coming down."
