At half past four returned
to the tents on the north-west arm. The river (from whatever cause) was
still rising, and no part of the banks was more than four feet above
the level of the water. I consider that the river may have from eight to
ten feet more water in it than usual: its present average depth is about
eighteen feet.
The soil of these extensive plains, designated Field's Plains, is for
the most part extremely rich, as indeed might be expected, from the
deposition of the quantities of vegetable matter that must take place in
periods of flood. The plains are in some places even lower than the
ground forming the immediate bank of the river, very soft, and difficult
for loaded horses to pass over. If we had been so unfortunate as to have
had a rainy season, it would have been utterly impossible to have come
thus far by land. The ranges of hills are unconnected, and are rocky and
barren; the swamps for the most part surrounding them. Mount Cunningham
is a lofty rocky hill, about a mile and a half long, composed of granite
rock, but entirely surrounded by low swampy ground.
Here we were so unfortunate as to find the barometer broken, the horse
which carried the instruments having thrown his load in passing the
swamps: every precaution had been taken in the packing to prevent such
an accident, which was the more to be regretted, as it interrupted a
chain of observations by which I hoped to ascertain the height of the
country with tolerable accuracy. The last observations that were made,
reduced to this place, gave us an elevation of not more than five
hundred feet above the sea, or about a hundred feet lower than the
country at the depot.
Since the river has been swollen, the fish have eluded us, none having
been caught since yesterday morning. Two black swans were however shot
on the river. Our present situation is by no means enviable: in the
first place, there is every chance that the river may be lost in a
multitude of branches, among those marshy flats, and farther navigation
thus rendered impossible; and in the second, a rise of four feet in the
river would sweep us all away, since we have not the smallest eminence
to retreat to. Should the river lead through to the westward, and be
afterwards joined by the branches we have passed, it may become
something more interesting and encouraging: a wet or even a partially
rainy season will, in my judgment, preclude us from returning by our
present route, more especially if these low countries continue for any
distance.
I am by no means surprised at the paucity of natives that have been
seen: it would be quite impossible in wet seasons to inhabit these
marshes, and equally so for them to retreat in times of flood. Their
fires are universally observed near the higher grounds, and no traces of
any thing like a permanent camp has hitherto been seen; but in many
places
on the banks quantities of pearl muscle-shells were found near the
remains
of fires. That large species of bittern, known on the east-coast by the
local name of Native Companions, I believe from the circumstance of their
being always seen in pairs, was observed, on the flats, of very large
size, exceeding six feet in height: they were so shy that we were unable
to shoot any.
May 12. - The fine weather still continues to favour us. The river rose
in the course of the night upwards of a foot. It is a probable
supposition that the natives, warned by experience of these dangerous
flats, rather choose to seek a more precarious, but more safe
subsistence in the mountainous and rocky ridges which are occasionally
to be met with. The river and lagoons abound with fish and fowl, and it
is scarcely reasonable to suppose that the natives would not avail
themselves of such store of food, if the danger of procuring it did not
counterbalance the advantages they might otherwise derive from such
abundance.
About three quarters of a mile farther westward we had to cross another
small arm of the river, running to the northward, which although now
full, is, I should think, dry when the river is at its usual level. It
is probable that this and the one which we first crossed join each other
a few miles farther to the westward, and then both united fall into the
stream which gave them existence. We had scarcely proceeded a mile from
the last branch, before it became evident that it would be impossible to
advance farther in the direction in which we were travelling. The stream
here overflowed both banks, and its course was lost among marshes: its
channel not being distinguishable from the surrounding waters.
Observing an eminence about half a mile from the south side, we crossed
over the horses and baggage at a Place where the water was level with
the banks, and which when within its usual channel did not exceed thirty
or forty feet in width, its depth even now being only twelve feet.
We ascended the hill, and had the mortification to perceive the
termination of our research, at least down this branch of the river: the
whole country from the west north-west round to north was either a
complete marsh or lay under water, and this for a distance of
twenty-five or thirty miles, in those directions; to the south and
south-west the country appeared more elevated, but low marshy grounds
lay between us and it, which rendered it impossible for us to proceed
thither from our present situation.
