My Departure For Coolgardie
Was Taken Advantage Of By Several Who Wished To Bank Their Gold, And Thus
I Became An Escort.
Coolgardie lay almost due south, 220 miles on the chart, but nearly 300
miles by the track, which deviated from water to water.
Speed being an
object, I decided to strike through the bush to George Withers' hole.
Here, by the way, poor Alec Kellis had just been murdered by the
blacks - not the pleasantest of news to hear, as I started on my solitary
journey. I followed a horse pad for fifty-five miles, mostly through thick
scrub, to Cutmore's Well, where several parties were camped, who eagerly
questioned me as to the richness of the new field.
Leaving Cutmore's, I struck through the bush, and before long the sickness
I had had on me for some time past, developed into a raging fever. Every
bone in my body ached and shot with pain. I could neither ride nor walk
for more than a few minutes at a stretch; I was unable to eat, nor cared
to drink the hot water in my canteen. I struggled on, now riding, now
walking, and now resting under a bush, travelling in this fashion as long
as daylight lasted, from five in the morning until six at night. Afraid to
let the camels go at night lest they should wander too far, or, while I
was following them in the morning, my packs should be raided by the
blacks, I tied them down, one on either side of my blankets; and thus I
had not only a protection against the wind, but the pleasure of their
companionship - no slight blessing in that solitude.
How lonely I felt, in that vast uninhabited bush! Racked by pain, I tossed
from side to side, until sheer weariness kept me still; so still that the
silence of death seemed to have fallen upon us; there was not a sound in
all that sea of scrub, save the occasional sleepy grunt of one of the
camels, until the quiet night re-echoed with the hoarse call of the
"Mopoke," which seemed to be vainly trying to imitate the cheerful notes
of the cuckoo. How could any note be true in such a spot! or how could a
dry-throated bird he anything but hoarse! At last morning came, heralded
by the restless shuffling of the camels, and another day's journey began.
Tying the camels down at nights necessitated the cutting of scrub and
bushes for them to feed upon, and I doubt they got little enough to eat.
Before long I was too weak to lift the saddles off, and could only with
difficulty load and unload the bags of quartz, and, weakened as I was by
illness, my labours were not light. Yet further trouble was in store for
me, for presently a salt lake barred my way. Then I began to understand
the meaning of the word despair. Neither kindness or cruelty would induce
my camels to cross; I was therefore forced to follow the banks of the
lake, hoping to get round it, as I could see what I supposed was its end.
Here I was again baffled by a narrow channel not ten yards wide.
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