A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

The History of Australian Exploration from 1788 to 1888

E >> Ernest Favenc >> The History of Australian Exploration from 1788 to 1888




On his downward journey Kennedy, to ease his horses as much as possible,
had buried a great quantity of flour and sugar. On his return he found
that the natives had discovered it, and wantonly emptied it out of the
bags into the hole, reducing it to a mixture of earth and flour that was
completely useless. This loss prevented Kennedy from making his intended
excursion to the Gulf. The party started back, and on his way Kennedy
picked up his carts, which he had also buried. He was just in time; a
native, probably one of the burglars already mentioned, had been
examining and sounding the ground but a short time before the party
arrived.

On reaching the head of the Warrego, Kennedy determined to follow it
down, and ascertain whether it was a southerly or westerly flowing river.
They followed the Warrego south, through fine grazing country, the river
being full of splendid reaches of water, but at last it failed them,
running out in flat country in waterless channels. From here they struck
across easterly to the Culgoa, which river they reached after a ride of
seventy miles without water, over a barren country, timbered with pine
and brigalow. Here they were delayed getting the carts across this dry
track, and lost six horses from heat and thirst. Thus vanished the high
hopes entertained of the Victoria River.

Meantime, Leichhardt, encouraged by his first success, had received
liberal support from the public to enable him to start on a new
expedition, which at once was to settle the question of the nature of the
interior, the ambitious project being nothing less than to traverse the
continent from the eastern to the western shore, on much the same
parallel of latitude if possible.

The party travelled overland from the Hunter River to the Darling Downs,
bringing with them their outfit of mules, cattle, and goats. On December
10th, 1846, the expedition left Mr. Stephens' station on the Condamine,
the members then consisting of seven whites and two blacks. Of stock,
they had two hundred and seventy goats, one hundred and eighty sheep,
forty bullocks, fifteen horses, and thirteen mules. This stock, with
their flour, tea, sugar, etc., was to last them on a two years' journey.

It is almost needless to go into particulars concerning this unfortunate
trip. They never succeeded in getting away from the old Port Essington
track. The rains came down on them in the sickly brigalow scrubs of the
Dawson and Mackenzie. Fever was the result, and they had no medicines
with them--a strange omission. Their only coverings during the wet were
two miserable calico tents. Their life, as told by members of the party,
consisted of semi-starvation, varied by gorging and feasting on killing
days, in which the Doctor apparently set the example; in fact, his
character throughout comes out in anything but an amiable light, and one
is led to wonder how anyone so destitute of tact and readiness of
resource ever achieved the journey to Port Essington, favoured even as he
was on that occasion by circumstances and seasons. Suffice it to say, to
end the miserable story, that, having first lost their sheep and goats,
then their cattle and most of their horses and mules, they turned up on
the 6th of July at Chauvel's station on the Condamine, having done
nothing but wander about on the old track and eat their supplies.

On reaching the station, Dr. Leichhardt was put in possession of the
finding of the Victoria, the Maranoa, &c., and being anxious to examine
the country between Sir Thomas Mitchell's track and his own, he, in
company with Mr. Isaacs and three of his late companions, left Stuart
Russell's station on a short excursion, during which he crossed to the
Balonne and back, making some subordinate discoveries.

Still persisting in his idea of crossing the continent, and fearful that
he might be forestalled, he made great efforts to get together a small
party of some sort to make another attempt. He succeeded; but this time
his party was neither so well provided nor so large. In fact, very little
is known of the members constituting it. The Rev. W. B. Clarke, speaking
of this final trip, says:--


"The parties who accompanied Leichhardt were, perhaps, little capable of
shifting for themselves in case of any accident to their leader. The
second in command, a brother-in-law of Leichhardt, came from Germany to
join him just before starting, and he told me, when I asked him what his
qualifications for the journey were, that he had been at sea, had
suffered shipwrecks, and was, therefore, well able to endure hardship. I
do not know what his other qualifications were."


For some inexplicable reason, this man, whose name was Classen or
Klausen, has always been selected as the hero of the many tales that have
been brought in of a solitary survivor of the party living in captivity
with the natives; probably, because his was the only name besides
Leichhardt's generally known and remembered.

The lost expedition is supposed to have consisted of six whites and two
blacks. The names known are those of the Doctor himself, Classen, Hentig,
Stuart, and Kelly. He had with him fifty bullocks, thirteen mules, twelve
horses, and two hundred and seventy goats, beside the utterly inadequate
allowance of eight hundred pounds of flour, one hundred and twenty pounds
of tea, some sugar and salt, and two hundred and fifty pounds of shot and
forty of powder.

His last letter [See Appendix.] is dated the 3rd of April, 1848, from
McPherson's station on the Cogoon, but in it he speaks only of the.
country traversed, and says nothing of his intended route. Since the
residents of this outlying station lost sight of him and his men, no clue
to his fate has ever been found. The total evanishment not only of his
men but of the animals (especially the goats) that accompanied him, is
one of the strangest mysteries of our mysterious interior.

Leichhardt's expressed intention was to endeavour to skirt the edge of
the desert--which was then supposed to exist in the centre--to the
northward, seizing the first opportunity of penetrating it, and then
making for Perth. From what we now know, it is quite impossible to guess
how much or little of this programme was carried out, as the existence or
non-existence of what he would consider a desert would entirely depend
upon what the season had been like immediately before his arrival.

The perusal of his journal to Port Essington, impresses one with the
opinion that, considering his scientific training, he was singularly
deficient in observation. In one place he writes that horses and bullocks
never showed that instinctive faculty of detecting water so often
mentioned by travellers, and that they seem to be guided entirely by
their sight when in search of it--an assertion which seems incredible on
the part of a man with any bush training at all. If Leichhardt had ever
had to steady a thirsty mob of cattle during a pitch dark night, with a
strong wind blowing from water, or even across the damp bed of a lagoon
or river, miles and miles away, he would soon have found out by what
sense cattle are guided in their search for water.

Although one does not want to harshly criticise these obvious errors in
the very rudiments of bush-craft, they serve to indicate how likely he
would have been, if entrapped in dry country, to commit a mistake that
would sacrifice his men. And one cannot but believe that he relied quite
as much on the chapter of accidents to pull him through as upon his own
helpfulness or experience. Of the causes that led to the destruction or
dispersion of the whole of the party it is next to impossible to hazard a
guess. The completeness of the disappearance is the most the puzzling
part of the mystery. Had they been killed by the natives, relics of the
explorers would long since have been recovered from them. In some shape
the iron work of the implements they had with them would have survived.

Many have tried to explain it by imagining them swept away by a flood
when camped on flat country, but this is scarcely likely, for even then,
on the subsidence of the waters, the blacks would have found something of
their belongings. Thirst was most likely the agent of their destruction,
and fire completed the work.

Once across the waters that wend their sluggish way into the lake
district of South Australia, Leichhardt and his followers would be in the
great region of fragmentary watercourses; rivers and creeks, when met
with, pursuing no definite courses--now lost in miles of level country,
now reforming again for a brief existence, but always delusive and
disappointing. Here they would one day find themselves in a position that
left them no other chance but the slender one of still pushing forward
into the unknown. Probably it was during one of the cycles of rainless
years that periodically visit the continent. Led on mile after mile,
following the dry bed of one creek, to lose it in some barren flat,
whereon the withered stalks of blue-bush alone told of a time of past
vegetation; again picking up another creek, to lose it in like manner,
knowing that to retrace their steps was impossible; making at last for a
hazy, blue line in the distance that turned out to be spinifex and
stunted forest; trusting still that this might indicate a change that
would lead them to higher country and to water, they would struggle
forward, weak and disorganised.

Then would come the beginning of the end. As they pressed on, the forest
became scantier, and the spinifex higher, spikier, and harder to march
through. One by one their animals had fallen and died, and the desperate
resort of drinking the blood had been tried by some. What little water
they had in their canteens was fast evaporating. Still some of them would
keep heart. The ground was getting stonier, and bare patches of rock were
constantly passed; surely they must be getting on higher country; they
were doubtless ascending the gradual rise of one of the inland
watersheds, and suddenly they hoped the ground would break away at their
feet in deep gullies and ravines; below they would see the tops of green
trees, shading some quiet waterhole. How anxiously they looked out for
any sign of life that might be a good augury of this, but none could be
seen.

Since leaving the open country, even the tireless kites had deserted them;
all around was silent, still, and lifeless. It was useless to stop to
rest, the ground was blistering to the touch, and there was no shade
anywhere. Then came night, but no change; throughout the long watches,
the radiance of the stars was never blurred by clouds. Some of the men
slept and dreamt of streams of clear, cold water, awaking only to greet
the dawn of another day of blinding, stifling heat, heralded by the faint
sultry sigh of the hot wind. And as the day grew hotter and hotter some
lost their reason, and all lost hope. Then came the end; they separated
and straggled away in ones and twos and fell and died. Day after day the
terrible and pitiless sun .looked down at them lying there, and watched
them dry and shrivel into mummies, and still no rain fell on the earth.

By day the sky was clear and bright, and by night the stars unclouded.
Years may have passed; higher and higher grew the spinifex, and its long
resinous needles entangled themselves in each other, unchecked by fire
for no black hunters came there in that season of drought, and the men's
bodies lay there, growing more and more unlike humanity, scorched by the
seven times heated earth beneath, and the glaring sun above untouched,
save by the ants, those scavengers of the desert, or the tiny bright-eyed
lizards. At last, the thunder clouds began to gather afar off, and when
they broke, a few wandering natives ventured into the woods, living for a
day or two on the uncertain rainfall. This failing, they retired again,
leaving perhaps, a trail of fire behind them. Then this fire, fed by the
huge banks of flammable spinifex, the growth of many years, spread into a
mighty conflagration, the black smoke covering half the heavens. The
hawks and the crows fled before it, swooping down on the vermin that were
forced to leave the shelter of log and bush. The great silence that had
reigned for so long was broken by the roar, and crash, and crackle of a
sea of flames; and beneath this fiery blast every vestige of the lost
explorers vanished for ever.

When, on the blackened ground, fell heavy rain once more, the spinifex
sprang up, fresh and green to look at, only in spots here and there,
where a human body had fertilised the soil, it was greener than
elsewhere.

So Leichhardt drops out of Australian history, and with every succeeding
year the chances of finding any trace grow more remote.

Expeditions have been started in search of him, but without result, and
the tale of their efforts will be told in their proper order.

As if the year 1848, when Europe seemed convulsed with some strange
tempest of riot and turmoil, should not be unmarked in Australia, two of
the most disastrous expeditions in the annals of exploration started
during its course. One, Leichhardt's, as we have just seen, vanished, and
all must have perished. Of the other, under Kennedy, two ghastly famished
spectres, that had once been white men, and a naked blackfellow, alone
were rescued out of thirteen.

The same impulses that led to Mitchell's and Leichhardt's northern
journeys, started Kennedy on his fatal venture up the eastern slope of
the long peninsula that terminates in Cape York. The desire to find a
road to the north coast, so that an available chain of communication
should exist between the southern settlements and a northern seaport.

Kennedy started from Sydney on board the barque TAM O'SHANTER, on the
29th of April, 1848. He had twelve men in his party, including Mr. Carron
as botanist, one of the survivors who published the account of the trip,
and Mr. Wall, naturalist. Their outfit consisted of twenty-eight horses
and one hundred sheep, besides the other necessary rations, carts, &c.
The instructions were to land at Rockingham Bay, and examine the eastern
coast of the peninsula, to Port Albany in the extreme north, where a ship
would meet and receive them. Such was the programme, alas for the
performance!

On the 30th of May, they landed in Rockingham Bay, with the loss of one
horse, and Kennedy made his first acquaintanceship with the tropical
jungles of northern Queensland (that now is), including the terrible
lawyer vine [Calamus Australis.] and the stinging tree. The first, a vine
with long hooks and spurs on it, that once fast, seem determined never to
let go again; the stalk being as tenacious and tough as wire, and
binding the scrub trees together so as to render advance impossible
without first cutting a way. The other, a tree with broad leaves, the
sting produced by touching which is so painful that horses, who on first
being stung have plunged about and been stung all over, have died from
the fever and inflammation caused.

These scrubs, marshy ground, salt water creeks, and high mountain ranges,
all inhabited by hostile natives, formed the pleasant prospect before
Kennedy.

From the very commencement almost, the monotonous record of Carron's
journal commences day after day thus--"Cutting scrub all day." Through
these marshes and swamps Kennedy strove to make for the ranges, hoping at
least to find clearer country to travel through. Often during this time,
he must have thought of his last journey over the boundless prairies of
the Barcoo, and sighed at the contrast. The natives, too, began to annoy
the travellers, and at last they were fired on and four killed and
wounded.

On the 18th July, the carts were abandoned, and they went on with
twenty-six pack horses, their sheep being reduced to fifty, and these
were rapidly falling away, as well as the horses, on the sour coast
grasses. They fared no better when they reached the range, or the spurs
of the Main Range, for the scrub still hemmed them in, and roads up and
down the rugged hills were hard to find; then to add to all, rain set
in.

On the 14th August, Carron took charge of the stores instead of Niblet,
who had been very extravagant with them, and also sent in false returns;
the allowance of flour was now reduced, and hopes were entertained that
with care it would hold out; but at first the supply provided was
insufficient. The horses too, began to knock up, and one after another
they were left behind dead or dying.

Crossing the dividing watershed, the party for some time travelled along
the heads of rivers running into the Gulf of Carpentaria, finding it a
great improvement in every way--thence they crossed back on to the
waters of the east coast once more, and their horses still giving in, one
by one, they fell back on them as an article of diet.

On the 9th of November, Kennedy realised that struggling on with the
whole of his party meant death by starvation to all, so he determined to
push ahead with three men and the black boy to Port Albany, and send back
relief by water. Port Albany, in the Pass of that name, being the
rendezvous agreed upon with the relief vessel. The camp was selected on
the top of a hill, fully visible from Weymouth Bay, and Mr. Carron put in
charge of it.

On the 13th, Kennedy started with the best seven of the horses leaving
the eight men in camp to await his return, or the relief boat. The only
account ever received of his journey came from the lips of the black boy
Jacky-Jacky, the sole survivor.

His story ran that three weeks after leaving Weymouth Bay they reached
Shelburne Bay, after cutting through a great deal of scrub and crossing
many rivers and creeks. Here Costigan accidentally shot himself, and
became very weak from loss of blood, so Luff, [Luff; the man mentioned
here, was with Kennedy on his Barcoo expedition, and some of the trees on
the Warrego, marked "L," and ascribed to Leichhardt, were probably some
of his marking.] another of the men, being ill, Kennedy left the third
man, Dunn, to look after them, and one horse for food; he and the boy
making a desperate effort to reach Cape York and send back succour. But
it was in vain. They reached the Escape River, and were in sight of
Albany Island, when they met a number of blacks who were apparently
friendly, although Jacky mistrusted them. Then came the end. Jacky's
story has been often told, but it will bear repetition.


"I and Mr. Kennedy watched them that night, taking it in turns every hour
that night. By-and-by I saw the blackfellows. It was a moonlight night,
and I walked up to Mr. Kennedy and said, 'There is plenty of blackfellows
now.' This was in the middle of the night. Mr. Kennedy told rue to get my
gun ready.

"The blacks did not know where we slept as we did not make a fire. We
both sat up all night. After this, daylight came, and I fetched the
horses and saddled them. Then we went on a good way up the river, and
then we sat down a little while, and then we saw three blacks coming
along our track, and then they saw us, and one ran back as hard as he
could run, and fetched up plenty more, like a flock of sheep almost. I
told Mr. Kennedy to put the saddles on the horses and go on; and the
blacks came up and they followed us all day. All along it was raining,
and I now told him to leave the horses, and come on without them, that
the horses made too much track. Mr. Kennedy was too weak, and would not
leave the horses. We went on this day until towards the evening; raining
hard, and the blacks followed us all day, some behind, some planted
before. In fact, blackfellows all around, following us. Now we went into
a little bit of scrub, and I told Mr. Kennedy to look behind always.
Sometimes he would do so, and sometimes he would not do so, to look out
for the blacks. Then a good many blackfellows came behind in the scrub,
and threw plenty of spears, and hit Mr. Kennedy in the back first. Mr.
Kennedy said to me, 'Oh, Jacky Jacky shoot 'em! shoot 'em!' Then I
pulled out my gun and fired, and hit one fellow all over the face with
buck shot. He tumbled down, and got up again, and again, and wheeled
right round, and two blacks picked him up and carried him away. They went
a little way and came back again, throwing spears all round, more than
they did before-very large spears.

"I pulled out the spear at once from Mr. Kennedy's back, and cut the jag
with Mr. Kennedy's knife. Then Mr. Kennedy got his gun and snapped, but
the gun would not go off. The blacks sneaked all along by the trees, and
speared Mr. Kennedy again in the right leg, above the knee a little, and
I got speared in the eye, and the blacks were now throwing always, never
giving over, and shortly again speared Mr. Kennedy in the right side.
There were large jags to the spears, and I cut them out and put them in
my pocket. At the same time we got speared the horses got speared too,
and jumped and bucked about and got into the swamps. I now told Mr.
Kennedy to sit down while I looked after the saddle bags, which I did,
and when I came back again I saw blacks along with Mr. Kennedy. I then
asked him if he saw the blacks with him. He was stupid with the spear
wounds, and said, 'No.' I then asked him where was his watch? I saw the
blacks taking away watch and hat as I was returning to Mr. Kennedy. Then
I carried Mr. Kennedy into the scrub. He said 'Don't carry me a good
way.' Then Mr. Kennedy looked this way, very bad (Jacky rolling his
eyes). Then I said to him don't look far away, as I thought he would be
frightened. I asked him often, are you well now, and he said, 'I don't
care for the spear wound in my leg, Jacky, but for the other two spear
wounds in my side and back, and I am bad inside, Jacky.' I told him
blackfellow always die when he got spear in there (the back). He said,
'I am out of wind, Jacky.' I asked him (Mr. Kennedy), are you going to
leave me? And he said, 'Yes, my boy, I am going to leave you.' He said,
'I am very bad, Jacky you take the books, Jacky, to the Captain, but not
the big ones, the Governor will give you anything for them.' I then tied
up the papers. He then said, 'Jacky, you give me paper and I will write.'
I gave him paper and pencil and he tried to write, and he then fell back
and died, and I caught him as he fell back, and held him, and I then
turned round myself and cried. I was crying a good while until I got
well, that was about an hour, and then I buried him.

"I digged up the ground with a tomahawk, and covered him over with logs
and grass and my shirt and trousers. That night I left him near dark. I
would go through the scrub, and the blacks threw spears at me, a good
many, and I went back again into the scrub. Then I went down the creek
which runs into Escape River, and I walked along the water in the creek,
very easy, with my head only above water to avoid the blacks and get out
of their way. In this way I went half a mile. Then I got out of the creek
and got clear of them, and walked on all night nearly, and slept in the
bush without a fire."


This was the sad tale. It took poor starving Jacky thirteen days to get
to Port Albany, short as the distance comparatively was. He lived on what
small vermin he could catch, climbing trees every now and again to look
for Port Albany and the ship. He carried the saddle bags, with Kennedy's
papers, for some distance, but had to leave them hidden in a log.

Immediately that Jacky's story was told to the people of the ARIEL, the
schooner awaiting Kennedy's party at Port Albany, sail was made for
Shelburne Bay to rescue the three men left there. A canoe was captured
which contained articles that left little doubt of the fate of the
unfortunates. The camp, however, was too far inland to reach without a
very strong party, and as it seemed certain that help was too late, and
there were eight men, whom Jacky described as being scarcely able to
crawl, awaiting relief at Weymouth Bay, sail was again made there.

The wretched men at Weymouth Bay had fared but badly. Douglas died first,
and he was buried; a rite which the party had afterwards to leave
unperformed, through sheer weakness. Taylor died next and was buried by
the side of Douglas.

Meantime, the blacks behaved in an inexplicable manner, at times they
would approach and offer the whites tainted fish as if to make friends,
and then come up with spears poised, and every token of hostility,
compelling the weary watchers to stand on their guard, expecting an
attack. Carpenter was the next to die, and he was buried with the others.
On the 1st December a schooner was seen in the Bay; and joyfully the flag
was hoisted and some rockets let off after dark. But she sailed away,
never having seen the signals, and the agony of the disappointed men can
be imagined. On the 28th December, Niblet and Wall died, and the blacks
came and surrounded the camp and threatened the two helpless survivors,
hardly able to stand up and hold their guns.

On the 30th, Goddard crawled out to try and shoot some pigeons, and
Carron sat with a pistol in his hand, to give him warning if the blacks
approached. Let him tell the end.

Copyright (c) 2007. famouswriterz.com. All rights reserved.