Book: Successful Exploration Through the Interior of Australia

W >> William John Wills >> Successful Exploration Through the Interior of Australia




1852. October 1st.--Left Dartmouth--Slightly sick for the first
few days--My brother much more so, but got right again--Foretopmast
carried away by a squall, just at the crosstrees, bringing down
with it the main top-gallant mast--'We look a precious wreck!
'--Remember the Honourable Michael de Courcy, brother of Lord
Kingsale, saying to me on the quay at Dartmouth, the day before we
sailed, that the first gale would carry away the fore-top-gallant
mast--I believe the Janet Mitchell is quite a new ship, on her
first voyage--The remark speaks well for the judgment of a young
officer.

19th.--Sailors prigged some spirits in the hold and got very
drunk--A passenger so drunk that he became mad, and was put in
irons.

20th.--Sailors not yet recovered from their drunkenness--A naval
captain, passenger on board, insulted by one of them; struck him
with his fist and cut his face open.

22nd.--Fine weather--Getting hot--Latitude north 21, longitude west
36--The Great Bear getting low--Sunsets and risings very fine,
particularly the former.

November 1st.--Shark taken, of which I had a large share and rather
enjoyed the novelty of the feed.

5th.--Crossed the Line--Sailors shaved and ducked a good many--Tom
and I got off very well. (Query--effects of the pig-tail?)

16th.--Stormy weather--Obtained some books on navigation and
studied trigonometry.

20th and 21st.--Passed Tristan da Cunha, Inaccessible and
Nightingale Islands, about 37 south latitude, 12 longitude west.
--Saw a great many whales, mostly sperm, thousands of birds,
albatross, Cape pigeon, and many others, the names of which I am
ignorant of.

23rd.--A shoal of porpoises passed us. A sailor struck one with a
harpoon, but it got off again. They are of a salmon colour, no more
like pigs than horses, just the shape of salmon, only much larger.
In swimming they turn on their sides.

December 1st.--Smart breeze this morning which soon increased to a
gale--Assisted in furling top-gallant sail--sailors only half
dressed--After breakfast, had to double reef top-sails and
main-sail. I like reefing very much.

2nd.--Waves not so high as I expected. It is amusing to see how the
birds ride them.

27th.--Saw an eclipse of the moon last night, which lasted three
hours; little more than three quarters were eclipsed--Some of the
passengers discontented with the provisions--wonder that some of
them ever thought of leaving home.

1853. January 1st.--Saw land this morning--Reached Cape Otway in
the afternoon; much the appearance of Berry Head, with a
slight haze on it--Coast to the west very like that about
Dartmouth--Cliffs, high; could fancy I saw Rock Vale.

[Footnote: The residence of a gentleman, near Dartmouth, with whom
he had been on a visit a short time before his departure.]

3rd.--Dropped anchor--Captain and Doctor going ashore will post my
journal and our letters.

. . .

His own was short:--

Port Phillip, January 3rd, 1853.

MY DEAR FATHER,

We have this morning dropped anchor, just off Williamstown.
There are a fine set of ships here: amongst them are the Great
Britain, Cleopatra, Ballaarat, Aberfoil, and an immense number of
others, great and small. The Great Britain leaves early to-morrow,
so I cannot finish my letter. We have been ninety-five days on our
passage. The Cleopatra has only arrived two days. There are a great
many vessels coming in. The day before yesterday we overtook and
passed the Jane, and Truth, of London, which left Plymouth a
fortnight before we sailed from Dartmouth. I hear already that
things are very dear in Melbourne. Our pilot says he gives 200
pounds a year for a small four-roomed cottage, two miles from the
town.

. . .

To show how well prepared the young adventurer was for life in
Australia,--notwithstanding letters of introduction and means of
obtaining money if required--after remaining only a few days in
Melbourne, and disbursing but a small modicum of the limited supply
of cash he had taken with him, anxious to see the interior of the
Island Continent, he obtained employment for himself and brother, a
lad only fifteen years of age, at a large sheep station two hundred
miles up the country. The following letter, dated February 12th,
1853, describes their proceedings to that date:--

MY DEAR FATHER,

We are at Deniliquin. And where in the world is that? you will say.
Well; it is about two hundred miles north from Melbourne, on the
Edward River, in the New South Wales district, and nearly five
hundred miles from Sydney. The station belongs to the Royal Bank
Company. We have engaged as shepherds at 30 pounds per annum each,
and rations. We are very comfortable, in a hut by ourselves, about
four miles from the station. We have between thirteen and fourteen
hundred rams, by far the smallest and easiest flock, under our
charge. We take the hut-keeping and shepherding in turns. The hut
is a very nice one, built of split wood, and roofed with bark. It
is close beside a pleasant creek or river, where there are plenty
of fish and ducks. I assure you we make ourselves quite snug here.
One of us rises almost as soon as it is light, gets some breakfast,
and starts off with the sheep; lets them feed about until ten
o'clock, then brings them slowly home, where they lie down until
four; after that, they go out again until sunset. The other stays
within to clean up the hut and prepare the meals. We can kill a
sheep when we like. [Footnote: Not the rams. There were a few
others kept for the purpose. I stayed a few days with them, when I
went out myself, at the end of the year.] The worst part serves for
the dogs, of which we have three--a sheep dog, and two kangaroo
dogs. [Footnote: They had a horse when I visited them, but not, I
conclude, at the time when this letter was written.] The latter are
good, and keep off the native curs at night. The sheep dog was the
only one the former owner had last year, to watch a flock of five
thousand sheep.

But you will want to hear something of Melbourne and how we came
here. The first discovery we made after we got into port was, that
we had to take ourselves and things ashore at our own expense.
There was a good deal of fuss made about it to no purpose. It was
four shillings each by steamer to Melbourne, and thirty shillings
per ton for goods. It cost us about 2 pounds altogether. At
Melbourne we found everything very dear; no lodgings to be had,
every place full. At length we were offered lodgings at sixty
shillings a week, to be paid in advance, and twenty-five persons
sleeping in the same room; but we preferred the Immigrant's Home, a
government affair, just fitted up for the accommodation of
new-comers, where you pay one shilling a night, and find yourself.
You must not stay more than ten days. We got there on Friday and
remained until the Saturday week following. We then obtained this
situation, and started on the same afternoon. Twenty-three of us
came up together. Drays were provided to carry our luggage, but we
ourselves had to walk. We were three weeks on the journey, through
the bush, sleeping, of course, in the open air.

. . .

He then proceeds to describe Melbourne, as it then was:--

Melbourne is situated, as you know, on the Yarra Yarra, [Footnote:
A native term, which means "always running."], which has not nearly
so large a bed as the Dart, although more navigable. It is narrow
but very deep, and so far resembles a canal rather than a river.
The town, or city, as they call it, is situated low, but laid out
on a good scale. The streets are very wide, and I think when filled
with houses it will be a fine place; but what spoils the appearance
now is, the number of wooden buildings they are throwing up, as
they cannot get workmen for others. When we were there, butter was
from two shillings and fourpence to three shillings per pound,
bread fourpence, milk eightpence per pint, vegetables enormous,
butcher's meat and sugar, as at home. Fruit very dear; a shilling
would not purchase as much as a penny in England. Beer and porter,
one shilling per pint in Melbourne, but from two shillings to two
and sixpence here. The town of Melbourne is all on one side of the
river, but on the opposite bank is Canvas Town, connected with
Melbourne by a good bridge of one arch. Canvas Town takes its name
from being entirely composed of tents, except a few wooden
erections, such as a public-house, and the Immigrant's Home, where
we had lodged. I do not like Melbourne in its present state. You
are not safe out after sundown, and in a short time you will not be
safe during the day. There were some men taken out of the river
drowned, suspected to have been murdered, and several attempts at
robbery, while we were there. I sold my box of chemicals, after
taking out what I wanted, for 4 pounds, and the soda-water
apparatus for 2 pounds 5 shillings. I also sold some books that we
could not carry, but got nothing for them. Scientific works do not
take. The people who buy everything here are the gold-diggers, and
they want story books. A person I know brought out 100 pounds worth
of more serious reading, and sold the lot for 16 pounds.

We started from Melbourne on a Saturday, with the drays, eight
bullocks to each, laden entirely with the luggage of the party,
twenty-three in number. We made only five or six miles that
afternoon, and slept under some gum trees. Our clothes were nearly
saturated with dew; but as we advanced farther inland, the dews
decreased, and in a night or two there was no sign of them. The
land for a few miles is dry and sandy, but improves as you proceed.
The woods extensive, sometimes without interval for two or three
days' march. There was no scarcity of water, except for the first
fifteen miles, after leaving Melbourne. We enjoyed the journey
much, and shot many birds, which constituted our principal food.
Ducks abound in the creeks, [Footnote: Watercourses, running in
flood time, but partially dry in dry seasons.] and up this way
there are fine white cockatoos, which are good eating, and about
the size of a small fowl. There is also a bird very plentiful here
which they call a magpie. It is somewhat the colour of our magpie,
but larger, and without the long tail; easily shot and eatable, and
feeds, I believe, much like our wood-pigeons. [Footnote: It feeds
more on insects.] The pigeon here is a beautiful bird, of a
delicate bronze colour, tinged with pink about the neck, and the
wings marked with green and purple. They are tame, and nicer eating
than those at home. Where we are, we have abundance of food; plenty
of mutton, and we can get a duck, pigeon, or cockatoo whenever we
like, almost without going out of sight of our hut, besides a good
supply of fish in the river; Murray cod, which in the Murray are
said sometimes to weigh eighty pounds, but in our creeks generally
run from two to twelve; also a kind of mussel, and a fish like a
lobster, not quite so large, but good eating. [Footnote: Crawfish;
the river lobster.]

Everyone who comes out does a very foolish thing in bringing such a
quantity of clothes that he never wants. All you require, even in
Melbourne, is a blue shirt, a pair of duck trousers, a straw hat or
wide-awake, and what they call a jumper here. It is a kind of
outside shirt, made of plaid, or anything you please, reaching just
below the hips, and fastened round the waist with a belt. It would
be a very nice dress for Charley. [Footnote: His youngest brother,
at home.] I should wear it myself if I were in England. It ought to
be made with a good-sized collar, and open at the breast, like a
waistcoat, only to button at the neck, if required. We brought out
the wrong sort of straw hat, as they are only fit for summer, but
we sold all but two. One I made six shillings of, but the
cabbage-tree hat is worth a pound. No one should bring out more
than he can carry on his back, except it be to sell. Boots and
shoes are at a great price, but they should be thick and strong.
Wages are very high for butchers, carpenters, and bakers. A
butcher's boy can get 3 pounds a week, with board and lodging.
Bullock-drivers get the same. Innkeepers are making fortunes. I
know a public-house, not larger than the Two Mile Oak, [Footnote: A
small public-house between Totnes and Newton.] that cleared 500
pounds in three months, so it was reported. Sydney, I hear, is as
cheap to live in as London. As to the diggings, I cannot say much
about them. I have seen many who have made money there, and many
who have lost it again. It is generally spent as fast as it is got.
I hope we shall send you some specimens of gold dust soon. Please
to give my love to my mother and all at home.

From your affectionate and dutiful son,

W.J. WILLS.

. . .

His subsequent letters were of the same kind, descriptive of
his management in his shepherd's life in the bush. He tells how he
converted legs of mutton into excellent hams by pickling and
smoking them; and how he also obtained preserves of melons, by
sowing seeds which produced abundantly. The flies and ants were
their greatest torment, particularly the former. The heat was not
great, as there was a constant breeze from one quarter or another.
Deniliquin is in between 35 and 36 degrees south latitude. The
trees are almost exclusively gum trees, but they differ in
appearance and leaves, according to age and locality. This gives
the appearance of variety, when, in fact, there is none. The wood
is hard and splits easily. The bark is tough and thick, and can be
converted into canoes by closing the ends of a piece taken from
half the circumference of a tree, and tying a cord round the centre
to keep it from spreading. The colour is of a beautiful red. A
moisture sometimes exudes from the leaves in such abundance as to
convey the idea of an animal having been slain under the branches.
It has the smell of carraways and is agreeably sweet. "How it would
delight Bessy and Hannah," (his young sisters, then quite
children), he says, "to go into the woods, picking up comfits under
the trees!"

He then speaks of the blacks in that district; of their habits and
ideas; but expresses a low opinion of their intellectual powers,
and thinks little can be done with them. In May, he wrote to his
mother and myself conjointly, fearing his former communications
might not have reached us, and briefly recapitulating their
purport. I afterwards heard at Deniliquin that he had successfully
performed a surgical operation. A shearer had run the point of his
shears into the neck of a sheep, and opened the carotid artery. My
son having a small pocket case of instruments, secured the vessel
and saved the animal. I remember when it was considered a triumph
in practice to effect this on a human subject. The letter I am now
alluding to concludes by hoping that we were all as comfortable at
home as he and his brother were in the bush. He never tired of
expatiating on the beauties of Australia and its climate. His next,
in August, gave a more extended account of local peculiarities and
features. Deniliquin is at this time (1862) a place of considerable
importance, with a thriving population. The island on which my sons
shepherded their rams is formed by two branches of the Edward
River, which is itself a branch of the Murray.

CHAPTER 3.

I arrive in Australia.
Join my two Sons at their Sheep-station.
Return to Melbourne and Remove to Ballaarat.
Visit to Mr. Skene.
My son studies Surveying.
His rapid proficiency.
Appointed to take charge of a Party.
Letters on various Subjects to his Mother and Brother at Home.

IN the month of August, 1853, I reached Melbourne, after a good
voyage, having obtained an appointment as superintending surgeon of
a government emigrant ship, commanded by Captain Young, a perfect
sailor, and a gentleman I shall always remember with pleasurable
feelings. More than two months elapsed before I could discover
where my sons were. Having, at length, ascertained their locality,
I purchased a horse and performed the journey in four days, resting
one day on the road, at the station of Mr. Jefferies, on the
Campaspe. I started at daylight, and made my fifty miles before
halting, as I generally did about two P.M. I arrived at the
shepherds' hut at five o'clock on a beautiful summer's evening,
having remained two hours at the hotel at Deniliquin to refresh.

Robberies on the road--stickings up as they are called--were rife
at this period. Thefts also were common at the resting-houses. A
gentleman who arrived at this hotel, not long before I was there,
took the saddle off his horse, and placed it under the verandah:
when he returned, after leading his animal to a paddock hard by, he
missed the saddle, which he supposed had been removed by some
person belonging to the house, and threw down his bridle on the
same place. After taking something to drink with the landlord he
said, "You have got my saddle."--"No." "I left it under the
verandah, where I have just placed my bridle." On going out to show
the spot, the bridle also had disappeared: both stolen. A good
saddle and bridle at that time would fetch twenty pounds readily.

At the station I took a native black for my guide. He brought me to
a place where my horse had nearly to swim across the creek, pointed
to a dry path, exclaimed, "There," then turned his own animal and
rode off. I followed the track for about three miles, and found
myself in front of the hut. My sons were both at home. Tom called
the attention of his brother to my approach. They appeared as much
astonished as he describes the blacks near the Gulf of Carpentaria
to have been at sight of himself and companions. Presently came the
recognition, a shout of joy, and a greeting such as may readily be
imagined, on the part of two boys on seeing the father they had not
long before supposed to be separated from them by some sixteen
thousand miles.

A few days after, we all left Deniliquin, each mounted on a horse,
my sons having first disinterred their money, buried at the foot of
a gum tree on a hillock which they considered as a safe bank of
deposit. It was their intention to have made a present of the
greatest part, 100 pounds, to their mother, on the first eligible
opportunity of forwarding it. On our way back we paid a visit to
the Bendigo diggings. William here evinced his skill as an explorer
by leading us, with the aid of his compass, through a trackless
bush, by which we saved a circuit of several miles. At Matthison's
hotel, on the Campaspe river, where we halted for the night, an
amusing conversation occurred. In the evening there was a great
gathering of all nations in the parlour. I undertook to tell the
different parties of English, by their dialect, from what
particular quarter they came. A person present, who articulated
with much difficulty from having nearly lost the roof of his mouth,
declared that he would defy any one to identify him by his speech.
We all agreed that it exceeded our powers, when he informed us with
a great effort that he was "a Kashman," meaning Scotchman.

On our return to Melbourne, we made preparations for a removal to
Ballaarat. William remained with me at the latter place for twelve
months, attending to any patient that might come in my absence. He
also opened a gold office adjoining my tent and did very well. Here
he perfected a plan of his own for weighing specimens containing
quartz and gold, in water, so as to find the quantity of each
component. But he was ever pining for the bush. The "busy haunts of
men" had no attraction for him. He preferred the society of a few
to that of many, but the study of nature was his passion. His love
was fixed on animals, plants, and the starry firmament. With regard
to medicine, he used to say that it was not clear and defined in
practice. He wanted to measure the scope of a disease, and to
supply the remedies by mathematical rule. He saw, too, that medical
men were less valued for their real worth than for their tact in
winning confidence through the credulity of the public. This was
particularly exemplified in a gold-field, where the greatest
impostors obtained credit for a time. His thoughts and conversation
also constantly reverted to the interior, and to the hope that he
would one day undertake the journey to the Gulf of Carpentaria. He
was anxiously looking out for a movement in that direction, then
often talked of.

About this period he made a pedestrian excursion to the Wannon, to
sojourn for a short time with a Mr. Skene, a most worthy gentleman,
now no more. He was actively employed at that place, and wrote to
me frequently, describing the family, to which he was much
attached, the whimsicalities of his landlord--a thorough old
Scotian, who amused himself by waking the echoes of the wilderness
with the bagpipes,--the noble fern trees and the fine black
cockatoos. He also continued his practice in surgery, but I believe
he made no charge, as, not being duly licensed, he considered he
had no right to do so. He returned to Ballaarat in consequence of a
communication through me, from an American gentleman named
Catherwood. On receipt of my letter he lost not an hour, shouldered
his swag (blankets, kit, etc.), took leave of Mr. Skene and family,
and walked to Ballaarat, sleeping one night in the bush, by the
way. On the 22nd of April, 1855, he wrote thus to his mother:

MY DEAR MOTHER,

I had the pleasure of receiving a letter from you a fortnight
since. I was at Moora Moora then, as you will see by a letter I
wrote just before I came down here, in the hope of joining a party
that is spoken of as about to explore the interior of the country,
which you appear to have such a dread of. It seems uncertain
whether they will go at all. As to what you say about people being
starved to death in the bush, no doubt it would be rather
disagreeable. But when you talk of being killed in battle, I am
almost ashamed to read it. If every one had such ideas we should
have no one going to sea for fear of being drowned; no travellers
by railway for fear the engine should burst; and all would live in
the open air for fear of the houses falling in. I wish you would
read Coombe's Constitution of Man. As regards some remarks of yours
on people's religious opinions, it is a subject on which so many
differ, that I am inclined to Pope's conclusion who says:--

For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight;
His can't be wrong whose life is in the right;

and I think we cannot have a better guide to our actions than

'to do unto others as we would be done by.'

Ever your affectionate son,

W.J. WILLS.

P.S. If I go, I will write again before starting.

. . .

The expedition he here speaks of turned out a mere venture to obtain
cash, and nothing came of it. He remained but a short time at
Ballaarat, and never idle. In a month he completed a wooden
addition to my residence, building the sides, and shingling the
roof in a most workmanlike manner. It was perfectly weatherproof,
and stood good for some years, being only taken down when an
alteration in the line of the street rendered its removal
necessary. He now wished to study surveying. My acquaintance with
Mr. Taylor, district surveyor at Ballaarat, obtained for him an
admission as an amateur into his office. He there set to work with
his characteristic industry to perfect himself in trigonometry and
Euclid; drawing and mapping in the office by day, and working hard
in his own room by night. On rising from bed in the morning, I have
found him sitting as I had left him, working out his point, for he
never deserted anything he had once taken up until he mastered it.
At the expiration of a few months, Mr. Taylor promised me to
introduce him to a gentleman in the survey department named Byerly,
with a view to reciprocal services. On the 20th of August, 1856, he
speaks for himself in a letter to his mother from Glendaruel:

MY DEAR MOTHER,

I have at length found time to write to you. You will no doubt
expect a long letter after so much delay, but I am afraid you will
be disappointed, as long letters are not my forte. In your last,
you asked me to send Bessy any information I could. I can assure
you I shall be most happy to do so, and to encourage her taste for
knowledge as much as lies in my power. I send her Bonwick's
Geography of Australia, which is a very useful little book, and in
most instances correct.

You must not look upon it as infallible. For instance, he says Lake
Burrambeet is in the Pyrenees, whereas it is more than twenty miles
from those mountains. But this may be a misprint. I would recommend
you to let the children learn drawing. I do not mean merely
sketching, but perspective drawing, with scale and compasses. It is
a very nice amusement, and may some day be found extremely useful.
There is another thing would do them much good, if they should
happen to have a taste for it: this is Euclid. Not to learn by
heart, but to read so as to understand it. Mathematics generally,
and Euclid, and Algebra in particular, are the best studies young
people can undertake, for they are the only things we can depend on
as true, (of course I leave the Bible out of the question).
Christian and Heathen, Mahometan and Mormon, no matter what their
religious faith may be, agree in mathematics, if in nothing else.
But I must now tell you something of your undutiful son. I am
learning surveying under Mr. F. Byerly, a very superior man indeed.
In fact I could not have had a better master had he been made to
order, for he is a first-rate surveyor, and we are exactly suited
to each other in our general ideas; and this, to tell the truth, is
a rare chance for me.

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