At This Camp We Made Two New Caissons, As Our Old Tin-Lined Boxes Were No
Longer Strong Enough.
Amongst our gear were two galvanised-iron boxes,
made to order, with lids which completely covered the boxes and were held
on by straps.
"Concertina-made boxes" they were called by the
tinsmith - a name which gave rise to a curious misstatement in a Perth
paper which published a letter I wrote to Sir John Forrest. The letter
read: ". . . We made boxes out of concertinas"! I fear any who read
this must have thought me fairly good at "romancing." I had them made
that shape so that they might be filled to nearly double the capacity of
the boxes and still have serviceable lids. I had hoped to have filled
them with specimens of plants and birds. Unfortunately we had neither the
time to, nor the opportunity of making any such collection, though we
might easily have filled them with specimens of the desert house-fly
which swarm at every well! By sawing off the ends of these lids we had
two useful boxes, with neither top nor bottom, and by screwing them on
to a framework of wood we manufactured a most useful caisson, 2 feet deep
by 1 1/2 long and 1 foot wide. By forcing this into the sand in the well
and digging out the sand contained in it, and then patiently waiting with
a pannikin for the small trickle of water creeping in from between the
outside of the caisson and the sides of the rock-hole, then again forcing
the box lower, and clearing out the sand above, now drained of its
moisture, and repeating the baling process, we were enabled to drain the
well of almost every drop it contained. On first acquaintance with these
wells a novice's impulse would be to dig out the sand until the bottom
was reached; but as the sand holds the water he would find himself with a
nicely cleared hole, but cleared of sand and water alike. Therefore,
without some such makeshift as that already described one would be in the
most unsatisfactory position of knowing that water existed, and yet of
being unable to obtain any but a very small supply. The natives use
comparatively little water, since it is only for drinking purposes,
washing being unknown, and as the water sinks in the well the sand is
scooped out gradually and carefully and plastered round the sides of the
hole, so preventing the inrush of sand. Very often when they require a
drink they bend down and suck up the water through a bunch of grass,
which prevents the sand from getting into the mouth.
The water from the wells was always bad, and on first being brought to
the surface was hardly fit to use; the camels would not, unless really
dry, drink it until it had been exposed in our canvas troughs to the air
for some time. Lying stagnant perhaps for a year or more, protected by
the sand, it is not to be wondered at that its flavour is not of the
best.
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