Some Heroes of Travel, or, Chapters from the History of Geographical Discovery and Enterprise

The diamond-sparrow, or spotted pardalote, was also seen. This bird inhabits the whole of the southern parts of the Australian continent, from the western to the eastern border, and is very common in Tasmania. It is nearly always engaged in searching for insects among the foliage both of the tallest trees and the lowest shrubs, in the garden and orchard as in the open forest; and it displays in all its movements a remarkable activity, clinging about in every variety of position, both above and beneath the leaves, with equal facility. Its mode of nest-building differs from that of every other member of the genus to which it belongs. It first excavates, in some neighbouring bank, a hole just large enough to admit of the passage of its body, in a nearly horizontal direction, to the depth of two or three feet; at the end of this burrow or gallery, it forms a chamber; and in this chamber it deposits its nest, which is beautifully woven of strips of the inner bark of the Eucalypti, and lined with finer strips of the same or similar materials. In shape it is spherical, about four inches in diameter, with a lateral hole for an entrance. To prevent the ingress of rain the chamber is raised somewhat higher than the mouth of the hole. Mr. Gould, the Australian naturalist, speaks of these nests as very difficult to detect; they can be found, he says, only by watching for the ingress or egress of the parent birds, as the entrance is generally concealed by herbage or the overhanging roots of a tree. Why so neat a structure as the diamond-sparrow’s nest should be constructed at the end of a gallery or tunnel, into which no light can possibly enter, is beyond comprehension; it is one of those wonderful results of instinct so often brought before us in the economy of the animal kingdom, without our being able to explain them. The diamond-sparrow rears two broods, of four or five each, in the course of the year. Its song or call is a rather harsh, piping note of two syllables, frequently repeated.

The great difficulty which besets the Australian explorer is the want of water. He travels day after day across open grassy plains, relieved by few variations of surface, except the sand ridges, to meet with neither spring nor watercourse. Sometimes he comes upon the native wells, but these, very frequently, are dry or almost dry; he digs well after well himself, but no water rises. Colonel Warburton’s party suffered severely from this deficiency. They met with much trouble, moreover, through the straying of their camels. Thus, one evening, “Charley,” who acted as camel-herd, reported that they had run away southward. He traced their tracks for several miles, and observed that one camel had broken its hobbles. 16 Halleem, the Afghan camel-driver, then mounted the Colonel’s riding camel, “Hosee,” and started in search of them at five o’clock on a Sunday evening. He was to push on for five or six miles, then camp for the night, and at dawn follow up the tracks vigorously, so as to overtake the truants, and return by mid-day.

Monday came, but Halleem and the camels came not with it. Sahleh, who had been exploring in the vicinity of the camp with a gun, returned in the evening with the startling information that he had seen Hosee’s return track, coming near the camp, and then striking off in a north-easterly direction. Colonel Warburton now also learned for the first time that Halleem was occasionally subject to fits, and that while they lasted he knew not what he was doing or where he was going. It was evident that such a man ought not to have been trusted alone, and it became a question whether Halleem had lost his camel or his wits; the latter seemed more probable, as Hosee, if he had come near the other camels, would certainly have joined them.

Next day, Monday, July 22nd, the Colonel writes: – “I sent my son and Charley with a week’s provisions on our back tracks, to try for Halleem first; but, in the event of not finding his foot tracks, to continue on, and endeavour to recover the camels. Lewis also went in the other direction, to run up Hosee’s tracks; so that I hoped that by one or other of these means I should learn what had become of Halleem. Unfortunately, Lewis, supposing he had only a few hours’ work, took neither food nor water. Now, 6 p.m., it is beginning to rain, and Lewis has not returned. I know he will stick to the tracks as long as he can, but I wish he were back; if Halleem be demented, he may urge the camel on sixty or seventy miles without stopping, and thus get a start in his mad career that will make it impossible for Lewis to help him.

“23rd. It has rained lightly all night. Lewis is still absent; I am greatly grieved at his having nothing to eat.

“1 p.m. Lewis returned; he had camped with Richard, and so was all right.

“It appears from his report that Sahleh, whilst out ‘birding,’ must have stumbled upon a mare’s nest, for Lewis soon abandoned the track he started on, and turned after Richard to find Halleem’s first camp. They did not find this, but they fell on his tracks of next day, steadily following the runaway camels; it is clear, therefore, that Sahleh has done his countryman some injustice, and caused much unnecessary alarm… Richard returned, having seen Halleem, and promised to take out provisions to meet him on his return.

“26th. Sahleh shot an emu (Dromaius Novoe Hollandicæ), a welcome addition to our larder. Every scrap of this bird was eaten up, except the feathers. The liver is a great delicacy, and the flesh by no means unpalatable.

“27th and 28th. Sent provisions to Ethel Creek for Halleem.

“29th. The camel-hunters returned in the evening, but without the camels. This is a double loss; the camels are gone, and so is our time; our means of locomotion are much reduced, whilst the necessity of getting on is greatly increased. Halleem has, however, done all he could do; he followed the camels nearly one hundred miles, but as they travelled night and day, whilst he could only track them by day, he never could have overtaken them. No doubt these animals will go back to Beltana, where alarm will be created as soon as they are recognized as belonging to our party.”

Such is the Colonel’s simple, unaffected account of what was really an annoying and perplexing incident.

At this date (July 29th) the explorers had accomplished seventeen hundred miles. The country continued to present the same general features – plains yellow with porcupine-grass, alternating with low hills of sand; but as they advanced, the sand-hills became more numerous, and among them lay numerous half-dry salt lagoons of a particularly cheerless aspect. Dense spinifex – high, steep sand-ridges, with timber in the flats, and nothing for the camels to eat but low scrubby bushes; – that horses should cross such a region is obviously impossible. The want of water again became urgent. From the burnt ground clouds of dust and sand were thrown up by the wind, almost choking the travellers, and intensifying their thirst. They were temporarily relieved by coming upon a native well. But the country still wore the same cheerless aspect of inhospitality; the desolate arid plain extended in every region – a desert of sand, which wearied the travellers by its monotony. Even when they arrived at the so-called basaltic hills, there was no water, no sign of green and pleasant vegetation. It was quite an excitement when, for the first time, they descried some flock-pigeons. The birds were very wild, and they could kill only three or four, but they were excellent eating, and made quite a dainty dish. Soon after this cheerful episode, Lewis, who had been sent on a short excursion south in quest of water, returned with intelligence of an Eden oasis which he had discovered in the wilderness. A beautiful clump of large gum trees flourished at the bottom of a small creek, which was hemmed in by a high sand-hill, and afterwards broke through a rocky ridge sprinkled with fine, clear, deep water-holes, one hundred feet in circumference. The rich green foliage of the gum trees contrasted vividly with the red sand-hills on either side, and the bare rocky barrier in front. To this delightful spot of greenery, bustard, bronze-wing pigeons, owls, and other birds resorted.

Colonel Warburton, however, was averse to retrace his steps, even to enjoy a halt in such an “earthly paradise;” and, pushing forward, was rewarded for his persistency by discovering a fine large lake of fresh water, haunted by ducks, flock-pigeons, and parrots. He halted on its borders for a couple of days.

Of the bronze-wing pigeon, to which allusion has just been made, it may be affirmed that it prevails in every part of Australia. In some individuals the forehead is brown, in others buff white; the crown of the head and occiput, dark brown, shading into plum colour; sides of the neck, grey; upper surface of the body, brown, each feather edged with tawny brown; wings, brown, with an oblong spot of lustrous bronze on the coverts; the tail feathers, deep grey, with a black band near the tip, except the two central, which are brown; under surface of the wing, ferruginous; breast, deep wine-colour, passing into grey on the under parts; bill, blackish grey; legs and feet, carmine red. It is a plump, heavy bird, and, when in good condition, weighs nearly a pound. Its favourite haunts are the dry hot plains, among the bushes or “scrub.” Its speed is very surprising; in an incredibly short time it traverses a great expanse of country. Before sunrise it may be seen in full flight across the plain, directing its course towards the creeks, where it quenches its thirst. The traveller who knows its habits can, by observing it, determine, even in the most arid places, whether water is near at hand; if he descry it wending its way from all quarters towards a given point, he may rest assured that there he will obtain the welcome draught he seeks. Mr. Gould says that it feeds entirely upon the ground, where it finds the varieties of leguminous seeds that constitute its food. It breeds during August and the four following months, that is, in the Australian spring and summer, and often rears two or more broods. Its nest is a frail structure of small twigs, rather hollow in form; and is generally placed on the horizontal branch of an apple or gum tree, near the ground. On one occasion, Mr. Gould, during a long drought, was encamped at the northern extremity of the Brezi range, where he had daily opportunities of observing the arrival of the bronze-wing to drink. The only water for miles around lay in the vicinity of his tent, though that was merely the scanty supply left in a few small rocky basins by the rains of many months before. Hence, he enjoyed an excellent opportunity for observing not only the bronze-wing, but all the other birds of the neighbourhood. Few, if any, of the true insectivorous or fissirostral birds came to the water-holes; but, on the other hand, the species that live upon grain and seeds, particularly the parrots and honey-eaters (Trichoglossi and Meliphagi), rushed down incessantly to the margins of the pools, heedless of the naturalist’s presence, their sense of peril vanquished temporarily by their sense of thirst. The bronze-wing, however, seldom appeared during the heat of the day; it was at sunset that, with the swiftness of an arrow, it rushed towards the watering-place. It did not descend at once, says Mr. Gould, to the brink of the pool, but dashed down upon the ground at about ten yards’ distance, remained quiet for a while until satisfied of its safety, and then leisurely walked to the water. After deep and frequent draughts, it retired, winging its way towards its secluded nest.

Just before reaching the lake, the Colonel’s party made a capture, a young native woman; and they detained her in order that she might guide them to the native wells. On the 1st of September, however, she effected her escape by gnawing through a thick hair-rope, with which she had been fastened to a tree.

Spinifex and sand resumed their predominance as the travellers left the lake behind them. The heat was very great, and crossing the hot sand and the steep hills was trying work. On the 12th, they rejoiced in the discovery of some excellent wells. Then again came spinifex and sand-hills. These troublesome ridges varied considerably in height and in distance from one another; but their elevation seldom exceeded eighty feet, and the space between them was not often more than three hundred yards. They lay parallel to one another, running from east to west; so that while going either eastward or westward the travellers could keep in the intervening hollows, and travel with comparative facility, but when compelled to cross them at a great angle, the feet of the camels ploughed deep in the sand, and the strain upon the poor animals was terrible. Yet the Australian waste is, after all, less wearisome than the sandy deserts of Nubia or the great Sahara; it is sadly deficient in water, but the sand-hills disguise their inhospitality with many varieties of shrubs and flowers, as well as with acacias and gum trees. The shrubs are not edible, and the trees are of no value as timber, but they serve to hide the nakedness of the land.

A grave danger beset them on the 15th. Their master bull (or male) camel had eaten poison, and fell ill; he was of immense value to the travellers, not only on account of his great strength, but because without his help it would be almost impossible to keep the young bulls in order, and they might elope with all the ewe (or female) camels. They administered to him a bottle of mustard in a quart of water – the only available medicine – but without any beneficial effect. In every herd of camels, it is necessary to explain, is found a master bull, who, by his strength, preserves order among his young brethren. These gay cavaliers are always desirous of a harem to themselves; and, if allowed an opportunity, would cut off three or four cows from the herd, and at full speed drive them for hundreds of miles. They are quiet only while under subjection to the master bull, and become intractable if, through illness or accident, his supremacy should be relaxed. Colonel Warburton was surprised at the marvellous instinct of the young bulls in his little camel harem; they knew that their master was ailing almost before the camel-men did, and at once showed signs of insubordination, so that it was necessary to watch them by night and to knee-halter them.

The old camel did not improve, and on the 16th the Colonel was compelled to abandon him. Three misfortunes followed: on the 17th two riding camels were taken ill, having been struck in the loins by the night wind; and on the 18th the same fate befell Richard Warburton’s riding camel. Thus, in three days the travellers lost four camels. They endeavoured to make some profit out of the misadventure by “curing” a quantity of camel-meat. The inner portions of the animal were first eaten – not the liver and other dainty parts only, but the whole; every single scrap was carefully consumed, not a shred was wasted. Then, head, feet, hide, tail, all went into the boiling pot. Even the very bones were stewed down, for soup first, and afterwards for the sake of the marrow they contained. The flesh was cut into thin flat strips, and hung upon the bushes for three days to be dried by the sun. The tough thick hide was cut up and parboiled, the coarse hair scraped off with a knife, and the leathery substance replaced in the pot and stewed until, both as to flavour and savour, it bore a disagreeable resemblance to the inside of a carpenter’s glue-pot. As may be supposed, such a dish as this was not so nutritious as the roast beef (or mutton) of Old England; but it stifled for a while the cry of an empty stomach. The attack next fell upon the head, which was speedily reduced to a polished skull. As for the foot, like cow-heel or sheep’s trotters, it was looked upon as a delicacy, and its preparation was a marvel of culinary skill. First, a good fire was lighted, and allowed to burn down to bright red embers, while the foot, severed at the hock, was scraped and singed as thoroughly as time permitted. The foot was thrust into the glowing coals, burnt for some considerable time, removed, placed on its side on the ground, and deprived of its tough horny sole. After this elaborate series of operations, the reader will doubtless suppose that the delicacy is fit for the table. Not a bit of it! It must be placed in a bucket of water, and kept steadily boiling for six and thirty hours; then, and then only, may it be served up. On the whole, we should not consider it a dish for a hungry man.

The 21st of September was the anniversary of their departure from Adelaide. Two of the party went out on camels to search for water, and two, in a different direction, on foot. As they had only two riding camels left, and these in a weak condition, they threw away their tents, and most of their private property, retaining only their guns and ammunition, and clothing enough for decency. Happily, one of the reconnoitring parties found a well, to which the travellers at once proceeded, and watered the thirsty, weary camels.

After a three days’ halt they resumed their advance, but moved very slowly. They were sick and feeble, and the country was difficult to traverse. Another camel had to be abandoned; so that out of seventeen animals, only eight remained. A plague of insects was added to their troubles. Not only did clouds of common flies buzz and worry around them, and legions of ants assail them, but the Australian bee, or honey-fly, tormented them by its pertinacious adhesion to their persons – an unwelcome adhesion, as it is famed for its intolerable smell. To get water they were again compelled to wander from the direct route, and at one time they descended as far south as lat. 20° 2′. Hence they began to suffer from want of provisions, and a grim alternative faced them: if they pressed forward, they ran the chance of losing their camels and dying of thirst; if they halted, they could hope only to prolong their lives on sun-dried camel flesh.

On the 3rd of October their condition was critical. The improvident Afghans, having consumed all their flour and meat, had to be supplied from the scanty rations of the white men, and Colonel Warburton resolved that if water were but once more found, so that he might not be compelled to retrace his steps, he would at all risks push forward to the river Oakover. Another riding camel broke down, and was killed for meat. A well was discovered, but the supply of water was so small that only one bucketful could be obtained in three hours, and on the second day it ran dry. On the 8th, having slightly recruited their animals, the undaunted travellers again moved forward; but one of the camels was still so feeble that Colonel Warburton and his son took it in turns to walk. The Colonel had the first stage, and, owing to stoppages from loads slipping off at the sand-hills, he soon struck ahead of the camels. Suddenly, hearing a noise behind him, he turned; – nine armed blacks were rushing full upon him! He halted to confront them, and they too stopped, at fifteen yards apart; two of them, in bravado, poised their spears, but, on his advancing pistol in hand, immediately lowered them, and a parley followed, in which, however, as neither understood the other’s language, there was very little edification.

The blacks were all chattering round him, when he heard a shot, as he supposed, on his “right front.” In reality it was fired from quite an opposite direction; but he was unwilling to answer the signal, because he did not wish to lose one of the three charges of his pistol. Moreover, the natives might have supposed that the single discharge had exhausted his resources, and have made an attack upon him. He accompanied them to their camp, and got a little water. The women and children would not approach him, but, thanks to his grey beard, the men similarly equipped welcomed him readily. There was a general passing of hands over each other’s beards – a sign of friendship, it is to be presumed; for, after this little ceremony, the intercourse was conducted on the most amicable terms. Eventually the Colonel resumed his walk across the hot glaring sand-hills, until he thought he had covered the required distance, and that the camels would soon overtake him; then he stopped, lighted a fire, smoked a pipe, and would have indulged in a short nap, had the ants been agreeable. Finding that sleep was impossible, he resolved on returning to the camp of the blacks for some more water; but, at that moment, his son and Lewis arrived with Charley, who had followed up his tracks, and he found that he must retrace his steps, having gone astray. Exhausted by heat, hunger, and fatigue, he could scarcely stagger along; but his companions supported his tottering feet, and in the evening he reached their encampment.

A good supply of water had been discovered, and, notwithstanding the alarming scarcity of provisions, it was indispensable that they should halt by it for some days, in order to give the camels an opportunity of partially recovering their strength. Without them the explorers could hardly hope to cross the wide and weary wilderness in which they were involved. Their rapidly diminishing store of food they endeavoured to eke out by killing such feathered spoil as came within their range – Gular parrots, and bronze-wing and top-knot pigeons – and by a mess of boiled salt-plant (Salicornia). On the 14th they resumed their weary march.

An entry or two from Colonel Warburton’s journal will afford a vivid idea of his distressed condition at this period: —

“19th. This is Sunday. How unlike one at home! Half a quart of flour and water at four a.m.; a hard, sinewy bit of raw, that is, sun-dried, but uncooked, camel-meat for dinner at two p.m.; supper uncertain, perhaps some roasted acacia seeds: this is our bill of fare. These seeds are not bad, but very small and very hard; they are on bushes, not trees, and the natives use them roasted and pounded.

“20th. Got a pigeon; and some flour and water for breakfast. We can only allow ourselves a spoonful of flour each at a time, and it won’t last many days even at this rate.

“Killed a large camel for food at sunset. We would rather have killed a worse one, but this bull had, in the early part of our journey, got a very bad back, and was unable to work for a long time..

“21st. Cutting up and jerking camel-meat. The inside has given us a good supper and breakfast. This is a much better beast than the old, worn-out cow we killed before, and we have utilized every scrap, having had a sharp lesson as to the value of anything we can masticate..

“25th. All the camel-meat has been successfully jerked, and we have lived since the 20th on bone-broth and gristle. The birds were getting shy, so when we killed the camel we gave them a rest; to-day we go at them again. I hope the water-searchers will return this evening; our prospects are not very bright under any circumstances, but if we get water anywhere between south and west we shall have a prospect of overcoming the difficulties and dangers that threaten us..

“29th. A short rain squall passed over us last evening; it has cooled the ground a little. Economy is, of course, the order of the day in provisions. My son and I have managed to hoard up about one pound of flour and a pinch of tea; all our sugar is gone. Now and then we afford ourselves a couple of spoonfuls of flour, made into paste. When we indulge in tea the leaves are boiled twice over. I eat my sun-dried camel-meat uncooked, as far as I can bite it; what I cannot bite goes into the quart pot, and is boiled down to a sort of poor-house broth. When we get a bird we dare not clean it, lest we should lose anything.

“More disasters this morning. One of our largest camels very ill; the only thing we could do for it was to pound four boxes of Holloway’s pills, and drench the animal… One of the Afghans apparently wrong in his head… In the evening the camel was still very sick.”

The animal, however, was better on the following day, and the expedition again toiled onward across the sands. Very troublesome were the ants, which seemed to have undertaken a deliberate campaign against the much-suffering travellers. They were small black ants, and in such numbers that a stamp of the foot on the ground started them in thousands. When the wearied men flung themselves down in the shade of a bush to obtain the solace of half an hour’s sleep, these pestilent persecutors attacked them, making their way through their scanty clothing, and dealing sharp painful nips with their strong mandibles.