Australia Twice Traversed - The Romance Of Exploration, Through Central South Australia, And Western Australia, From 1872 To 1876 By Ernest Giles
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It Was With Distress That I Lay Down On My Blankets That Night, After
What He Had Said.
I scarcely knew what to do.
I had yet a lot of
horses heavily loaded with provisions; but to take them out into a
waterless, desert country by myself, was impossible. We only went a
short distance - to Bagot's Creek, where I renewed my arguments. Mr.
Carmichael's reply was, that he had made up his mind and nothing
should alter it; the consequence was that with one companion I had, so
to speak, discharged, and another who discharged himself, any further
exploration was out of the question. I had no other object now in view
but to hasten my return to civilisation, in hopes of reorganising my
expedition. We were now in full retreat for the telegraph line; but as
I still traversed a region previously unexplored, I may as well
continue my narrative to the close. Marzetti's foal couldn't travel,
and had to be killed at Bagot's Creek.
On Friday, the 8th November, the party, now silent, still moved under
my directions. We travelled over the same ground that Mr. Carmichael
and I had formerly done, until we reached the Petermann in the Levi
Range. The natives and their pups had departed. The hills approached
this creek so close as to form a valley; there were several
water-holes in the creek; we followed its course as far as the valley
existed. When the country opened, the creek spread out, and the water
ceased to appear in its bed. We kept moving all day; towards evening I
saw some gum-trees under some hills two or three miles southwards, and
as some smoke appeared above the hills, I knew that natives must have
been there lately, and that water might be got there. Accordingly,
leaving Carmichael and Robinson to go on with the horses, I rode over,
and found there was the channel of a small creek, which narrowed into
a kind of glen the farther I penetrated. The grass was burning on all
the hillsides, and as I went still farther up, I could hear the voices
of the natives, and I felt pretty sure of finding water. I was,
however, slightly anxious as to what reception I should get. I soon
saw a single native leisurely walking along in front of me with an
iguana in his hand, taking it home for supper. He carried several
spears, a wommerah, and a shield, and had long curled locks hanging
down his shoulders. My horse's nose nearly touched his back before he
was aware of my presence, when, looking behind him, he gave a sudden
start, held up his two hands, dropped his iguana and his spears,
uttered a tremendous yell as a warning to his tribe, and bounded up
the rocks in front of us like a wallaby. I then passed under a
eucalyptus-tree, in whose foliage two ancient warriors had hastily
secreted themselves. I stopped a second and looked up at them, they
also looked at me; they presented a most ludicrous appearance. A
little farther on there were several rows of wurleys, and I could
perceive the men urging the women and children away, as they doubtless
supposed many more white men were in company with me, never supposing
I could possibly be alone. While the women and children were departing
up the rocks, the men snatched up spears and other weapons, and
followed the women slowly towards the rocks. The glen had here
narrowed to a gorge, the rocks on either side being not more than
eighty to a hundred feet high. It is no exaggeration to say that the
summits of the rocks on either side of the glen were lined with
natives; they could almost touch me with their spears. I did not feel
quite at home in this charming retreat, although I was the cynosure of
a myriad eyes. The natives stood upon the edge of the rocks like
statues, some pointing their spears menacingly towards me, and I
certainly expected that some dozens would be thrown at me. Both
parties seemed paralysed by the appearance of the other. I scarcely
knew what to do; I knew if I turned to retreat that every spear would
be launched at me. I was, metaphorically, transfixed to the spot. I
thought the only thing to do was to brave the situation out, as
"Cowards, 'tis said, in certain situations
Derive a sort of courage from despair;
And then perform, from downright desperation,
Much bolder deeds than many a braver man would dare."
(ILLUSTRATION: ESCAPE GLEN - THE ADVANCE.)
(ILLUSTRATION: ESCAPE GLEN - THE RETREAT.)
(ILLUSTRATION: MIDDLETON'S PASS AND FISH PONDS.)
I was choking with thirst, though in vain I looked for a sheet of
water; but seeing where they had dug out some sand, I advanced to one
or two wells in which I could see water, but without a shovel only a
native could get any out of such a funnel-shaped hole. In sheer
desperation I dismounted and picked up a small wooden utensil from one
of the wurleys, thinking if I could only get a drink I should summon
up pluck for the last desperate plunge. I could only manage to get up
a few mouthfuls of dirty water, and my horse was trying to get in on
top of me. So far as I could see, there were only two or three of
these places where all those natives got water. I remounted my horse,
one of the best and fastest I have. He knew exactly what I wanted
because he wished it also, and that was to be gone. I mounted slowly
with my face to the enemy, but the instant I was on he sprang round
and was away with a bound that almost left me behind; then such
demoniacal yells greeted my ears as I had never heard before and do
not wish to hear again; the echoes of the voices of these now
indignant and infuriated creatures reverberating through the defiles
of the hills, and the uncouth sounds of the voices themselves smote so
discordantly on my own and my horse's ears that we went out of that
glen faster, oh!
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