CHAPTER VI.
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CHAPTER VI.
It had been stipulated that one of the drays should convey us to Adelaide. After his brothers had left John Howe took to drinking rum. He had found out where he could get it, and for three days we could not get him to move, and old Tom had been keeping him company. At last we started for Adelaide. When we got there another overland party, who had come by the old Murrumbidgee route arrived in sorry plight. Their camp had been rushed one night by hundreds of natives. It appears that they (the shepherds) had divided the sheep into two, one flock about a mile ahead of the other. The leader was Mr. Inman (I don't know if the name is correct, but it sounded so) was passing from one flock to the other, and when about to cross a small creek he met three natives. He made friendly signs to them, and gave them some bread he had in his pocket, and was turning to cross the creek when he received a spear in his back, another in his shoulder, and a third through his arm. He was found insensible by the following shepherds. The spear in his shoulder had struck the bone, and dropped out. That in his arm was drawn through. The spear head only was
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in the wound of his back, for, in falling, it had broken off. The horse had galloped and joined the foremost mob of sheep. The poor fellow lay on one of the drays on his belly for seven weeks. The spear head being jagged could not be drawn, but came out of itself gradually. It measured seven inches, I am told. Four inches at least must have been in the wound.
The party had troubles on the Darling River with the natives, losing many sheep. The natives showed fight at times, but always lost some of their number killed or wounded. When at some distance from the Rufus the natives made their appearance in great numbers, said to have been between four and five hundred. The shepherds left their flock to defend the drays. The men described the natives, who were in their war garb painted white on their faces and striped on their legs, looking like veritable fiends.
A row of old men with feathers in their hair joined hands behind to keep the warriors forward. Nothing could stand this attack, and the white men had to leave drays and sheep to the black men. Three of the white men were speared and another carried bodily off. The other men retreated through the thick scrub, and sustained themselves by killing and eating their faithful dogs until they met a dray sent out from Adelaide to meet them. One of them told me he had lived for three days on a dog's tongue.
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A number of gentlemen mustered and formed a large party to go back to the Murray River and retake the sheep from the natives. They wanted J. McLaurin and myself to join them, but we declined, although they offered to provide us with horses. They were led by Mr O'Halloran, the head of police, on a white horse (which he had bought from Mr. Lockhart on our first journey). It was called Snowball. We both knew it at once. The result of the expedition, we learned afterwards, was that they found a lot of sheep surrounded with a scrub fence, and all the sheep had their legs broken and five hundred or six hundred natives lay around feeding on them. They cooked them in holes in the ground. O'Halloran's horse was speared. They shot at the natives, of course, but, finding them most dangerous in the thick scrub and the sheep in the state described, the party returned to Adelaide unsuccessful. Jim McLaurin and I put up at Miss Bathgate's. She told me Captain Grey had made a trip from Swan River sometime previous, and had stayed with her for a short time. He was afterwards invited to Government house, and stayed there. He had been speared in the leg, and had shot the native who threw the spear. They had gone on the beach in search of water, expecting to find a stream or streams running into the sea, but could find none. Captain Grey then left his men to send succour from Adelaide, but all but two had died of thirst.
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Edward and John Howe had left us at Gawlertown, intending to take their horses overland to Port Phillip, but when we got to Adelaide they had sold their horses and taken a ship then offering for Sydney. I got a letter from J. Howe telling me to bring anything belonging to them to Sydney, and leave them at their agents (naming them). When we got by sea, however, to Port Phillip, we found J. Howe and Ephraim both there.
At Port Adelaide McLaurin and I got on board a small steamer that had come out from England. I believe it was the first steamer that came to the colonies. It was a paddle wheeled boat, of a little over 200 tons. The fare on board was very poor. The flour was sour, and they still had salt meat on table. The speed was little over five knots. When we reached Port Phillip there were three square rigged ships in the harbour. As we lumbered past them at nearly live knots, they gave us three cheers. These ships had brought out immigrants for the new settlement. We saw nothing of the town, when we got there, and were told we would have to land at a place pointed out to us as Liardet's Beach, and walk over a swamp until we saw a number of tents and a few houses.
We followed instructions, and landed at the spot described. The swamp was covered with rushes, no trees of any kind. Water holes here and there. We travelled for some distance, carrying our belongings with us, except
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my trunk, which was still on board the Thirteen, the name of the boat. When we came in sight of the tents and houses we had to hail for a boat to get across the Yarra River, for the town was on the other side. After some time a boat appeared. We easily found out where the Howes had put up. It was on the highest part of what was to be the town, and was a house of accommodation. There we found the two brothers Howe. Ephraim had sold some fat cattle to a party near the town, and wanted McLaurin and me to go up and fetch them and deliver them to the buyer and get his receipt. We were told there were hotels (so called) all the way, and the publicans would instruct us how to proceed. Indeed, it was a well beaten track all the way to the Broken River, where Ephraim Howe had a station, and there we were to get the cattle. We agreed to go, as I wanted to see as much of the country as possible.
John Howe was to precede us in a gig, and he would select the cattle. He would start next day. Meanwhile we required to get some clothing, and we saw some drapers' shops, and were looking into the window to see if anything would suit us, when a tap revealed the face of my old shipmate, Robert Monro. Of course Jim and I went in, and Monro and I shook hands, and I introduced J. McLaurin, and told him of our journeys overland, and that I was going to New Zealand, after we had delivered
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some cattle, but we wanted to make ourselves a little decent. Mr. Monro told me he had been sent here to open a branch of their business in the new settlement, and here he was.
James McLaurin had also met a shipmate, who kept a public house, and where we had got sleeping quarters of a sort, but the meals were good and clean. Here also I had my cockatoo, for I had never parted with it. I got a cage for him in Adelaide, and always looked after him myself. When I appeared, after being out some time, he would flap his wings in delight when he saw me and cry out, "Pretty cocky."
John Howe had the start of us three days, when horses were got for J. McLaurin and me. Meanwhile I got from the Thirteen steamer my trunk, and the things that John and Edward Howe had left for me to bring along. These I left with Ephraim for the Broken River.
Before starting I left the cockatoo with the landlady, instructing her how he was to be fed, &c.
Jim and I now made a start for the Broken River. We got there in three days, crossing the Goulburn River. This river and the Ovens, are both tributaries of the Hume and Murray. When we reached the last accommodation house, the people told us we would have to travel fifteen miles further to reach Howe's station. We have therefore travelled over 100
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miles since we left the township. We learned from the hotel keeper that the town is now called Melbourne, after Lord Melbourne. This hotel is built on the spot where Faithful and all his party were killed by the natives, not one escaping. They were driving a herd of cattle to the new township at Port Phillip.
The station had a large stockyard, and three or four huts built of bark, and had loop holes all round, in case of attack by black fellows. We started with 120 head of fine fat bullocks. We stockyarded them every night, making each night a public house, where they had stockyards. On crossing the Goulburn River we lost one of the herd, it being drowned. Before delivering them, we fed them at a spot near where they were to be delivered, Jim and I watching them all night.
Next morning we delivered the cattle at the station belonging to a name like Enty (Henty), but I am not sure. Two hundred head were sold, and Jim and I went up for the balance, but I received a letter from Ephraim Howe saying he had arranged to deliver the rest of the cattle sold. At the station a brother of James McLaurin, who had gone with us on the first trip down the Murrumbidgee, was head stockman here, and we spent six weeks with him. He had two kangaroo dogs, and we had great sport hunting the emu and kangaroo.
When we got to Melbourne (as I shall now call it) Jim McLaurin had told me he expected
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his father and the rest of the family would have arrived there, intending to settle in the district, and sure enough we found them there. The father had purchased some acres of land on the harbour bank. The first party we met in Melbourne was J. McLaurin's eldest brother, who had been expecting us for some days, and was on the look-out for us.
After delivering up our horses, we had to cross the Yarra River in a boat, and had a good long tramp to the homestead of the McLaurin family. They had been living in tents, but had now a sort of house erected as makeshift, until a proper one could be put up. I stayed with them for about a week. They mean to have a dairy farm, and will provide Melbourne with milk and butter.
Jim McLaurin went with me to town, and when bidding good-bye he was half crying. We met again in after years, as I will duly relate when the time comes.
Melbourne is situated between two ridges, and is much more compact than Adelaide, and has a good river running by it called Yarra Yarra, which flows past the town, and further down joins a saltwater creek, and then flows into the harbour. They are already erecting a wharf near the town. At the present time they are digging out the stumps of gum trees previous to paving the streets. In rainy weather the streets must be in an awful mess, unfit for traffic of any kind.
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Since I arrived here the first time, 3000 emigrants have arrived, but one-half can't find employment.
In reading afterwards some Adelaide papers, I found that Major O'Halloran, after returning from the unsuccessful attempt to secure Inman's sheep, had gone again to the Murray with a large force of mounted police, with the object of recovering the remainder of the sheep. The number of the flock when the party started was 15,000. It was hoped that a few thousand would still be found. And also they had heard of another party being on their way with cattle, that ought to have arrived by this time. To recover any sheep they found to be hopeless. What the natives had not devoured the dingoes had killed. The latter had been in great numbers, for their wailing cries were heard all night. The party had spare horses with them, carrying tents and provisions.
Seeing nothing of the cattle party, now overdue, they went some distance up the Murray, and came across some of the fugitives of that party who had been overwhelmed by numbers of the natives. They had lost cattle and drays, and had six men speared and all wounded.
The Major recovered the greater part of the cattle, and took them to Adelaide. The drays had been ransacked, and were left behind.
The leader of that party was a Mr. Langhorn, and it consisted of eighteen men all told. They had been attacked with the utmost fury
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by the natives, who showered spears upon them, and killed six and wounded the others.
The major found three of the six men who had been killed. They were much mangled by the savages. The major had the three men buried in the sand.
I sailed from Melbourne at the end of March, 1841, in a small brig for Sydney, and found that Paul and Co. (now Wright and Graham) had sent my letters to Mr Monro at Melbourne, and I had to wait some time in Sydney for their arrival. In the meantime I strolled about the town. I saw the soldiers manoeuvring in the barracks in George Street, and visited the gardens, having to cross a small creek to get there. A little bridge had been erected over the creek, and I paid a penny to get over. The gardens are well kept, and well worth a visit. Government House is not far off.
My letters arrived meanwhile from Melbourne, and I am now ready to start for New Zealand.
Mr. Graham told me he had made up his mind to start a branch of business in Auckland, New Zealand. One of his clerks had just returned from that country, and had been to Hokianga, and had seen my brother there. He had two of the emigrants and their wives with him, who had come out under the auspices of the New Zealand Company, which had bought land at Wellington. But as there was no forest of
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timber there, my brother, hearing of Hokianga and having brought out a sawmill with him, from Home, as I have already related, first put up the mills at the heads of Hokianga. Finding the sand injuring the saws, he removed up that river to a place called Wairere, and there I am going to find him.
