November 20. — The wind being favourable5 for the boats landing to-day, I sent the overseer with pack-horses to the west side of Fowler’s Bay, to bring up some flour and other stores for the use of the party; at the same time I wrote to the master of the cutter, to know whether he considered his anchorage, at Fowler’s Bay, perfectly6 safe. His reply was, that the anchorage was good and secure if he had been provided with a proper cable; but that as he was not, he could not depend upon the vessel7 being safe; should a heavy swell8 set in from the southeast. Upon this report, I decided9 upon landing all the stores from the cutter; and sending her to lay at a secure place on the west side of Denial Bay, until I returned from exploring the country, near the head of the Great Bight. On the 22nd, I gave orders to this effect, at the same time directing the captain to return to Fowler’s Bay by the 11th December, at which time I hoped to have accomplished10 the journey I contemplated11.
On the same day I gave my overseer instructions for his guidance during my absence; and after sending the drays on to the water behind Point Fowler, that they might be nearer to the vessel, I set off on horseback to the westward, accompanied by a native; and taking with us a pack-horse to carry provisions. Crossing for about six miles through scrub, at a west by south course, we entered open grassy12 plains, among which were many beds of small dried up salt lakes. This description of country continued for about six miles, when we again entered a very dense scrub, and continued in it for eight miles, until we struck the coast. Not finding any indications of water or grass, I pushed up along the beach for three miles further, and was then obliged to encamp without either, as it had become too dark to proceed.
November 23. — Moving along the coast for ten miles, we came to large high drifts of pure white sand, from which some red-winged cockatoos and pigeons flew out, and near which were several native encampments. I now fully13 hoped to find water; but after a long and anxious examination, was obliged to give up the search. I knew that our only hope of finding water lay in these drifts of sand; but as it was frequently very difficult to find, and never could be procured14 without digging, (sometimes to a great depth,) I began to fear that our attempt to reach the head of the Bight was almost hopeless. We had no means of digging in the sand to any depth; whilst, from the constant drift, caused by the winds among these bare hills, it was exceedingly disagreeable to remain even for a short time to examine them. The wind was blowing strong, and whirlwinds of sand were circling around us, with a violence which we could scarcely struggle against, and during which we could hardly venture either to open our eyes, or to draw our breath.
Leaving the sand-drifts we travelled behind the coast ridge16 through a more open but still sandy country, making a long stage to some more high bare sand-drifts, amidst which we again made a long but unsuccessful search for water; at night we encamped near them, and our unfortunate horses were again obliged to be tied up for the second time without either grass or water.
November 24. — Finding that there was little prospect17 of procuring18 water a-head, and that our horses were scarcely able to move at all, I felt it necessary to retrace19 our steps as speedily as possible, to try to save the lives of the animals we had with us. In order that we might effect this and be encumbered20 by no unnecessary articles, I concealed21, and left among some bushes, all our baggage, pack-saddles, etc. After passing about five miles beyond the sand-drifts where I had seen the cockatoos and pigeons, one of the horses became completely exhausted22 and could not proceed any further; I was necessitated23 therefore to tie him to a bush and push on with the other two to save them.
When I left my party on the 22nd, I had directed them to remove to some water-holes behind Point Fowler, but, as I had not seen this place myself, I was obliged to steer24 in the dark in some measure at random25, not knowing exactly where they were. The greatest part of our route being through a dense brush, we received many scratches and bruises26 from the boughs27 as we led our horses along, to say nothing of the danger we were constantly in of having our eyes put out by branches we could not see, and which frequently brought us to a stand still by painful blows across the face. At last we arrived at the open plains I had crossed on my outward track, and following them down came to two deep holes in the limestone28 rock, similar to the one behind Point Brown. By descending29 into these holes we found a little water, and were enabled to give each of the horses three pints30; we then pushed on again, hoping to reach the camp, but getting entangled31 among the scrub, were obliged at midnight to halt until daylight appeared, being almost as much exhausted as the horses, and quite as much in want of water, for we had not tasted the little that had been procured from the hole found in the plains.
November 25. — At the first streak32 of daylight we moved on, and in one mile and a half reached the camp near Point Fowler, before any of the party were up. We had guessed our course well in the dark last night, and could not have gone more direct had it been daylight. Having called up the party and made them get a hasty breakfast, I hurried off a dray loaded with water, and accompanied by the overseer, one man, and the black boy, to follow up our tracks to where the tired horse had been tied. During my absence I found that every thing but the cart had been landed from the cutter, and safely brought up to the camp, and that as soon as that was on shore she would be ready to go and lie at anchor at Denial Bay.
About noon I was greatly surprised and vexed33 to see my overseer return driving the loose horses before him. It seemed that whilst feeding around the camp they had observed the dray and other horses going away and had followed upon the tracks, so that the overseer had no alternative but to drive them back to the camp. This was very unfortunate, as it would occasion great delay in reaching the one we had left tied in the scrub. I directed the overseer to hurry back as rapidly as possible, and by travelling all night to endeavour to make up for lost time, for I greatly feared that if not relieved before another day passed away, it would be quite impossible to save the animal alive.
After resting myself a little I walked about to reconnoitre the neighbourhood of our camp, not having seen it before. The situation was at the west side of the upper extreme of Point Fowler, immediately behind the sand-drifts of the coast, which there were high, bare, and of white sand. The water was on the inland side, immediately under the sand-hills, and procured in the greatest abundance and of good quality, by sinking from one to three feet. It was found in a bed of white pipe-clay. To the north-west of us were some open grassy plains, among which our horses and sheep obtained their food, whilst here and there were scattered34 a few salt swamps or beds of lakes, generally, however, dry. The whole country was of fossil formation, and the borders of the lakes and swamps exhibited indurated masses of marine35 shells, apparently36 but a very recent deposit. Further inland the country was crusted on the surface with an oolitic limestone, and for the most part covered by brush; a few open plains being interspersed37 here and there among the scrubs, as is generally the case in that description of country.
The natives still appeared to be in our neighbourhood, but none had been near us since they first left on the 19th. I would now gladly have got one of them to accompany me to look for water, but none could be found. On the 26th and 27th I was occupied in getting up the cart, some casks, etc. from the cutter, and preparing for another attempt to round the head of the Great Bight. The vessel then sailed for Denial Bay, where she could lie in greater safety, until I required her again.
Early on the 27th the man and black boy returned with the dray from the westward, they had found the horse very weak and much exhausted, but by care and attention he was got a little round, and the overseer had remained to bring him slowly on: he had been four entire days and nights without food or water, and for the first two days and a half of this time had been severely38 worked. In the evening the overseer came up, driving the jaded39 animal, somewhat recovered indeed — but miserably40 reduced in condition.
The party with the dray had taken spades with them to dig for water at the sand hills, where I had seen the pigeons and cockatoos on the 23rd, and at ten feet they had been lucky enough to procure15 abundance, which although of a brackish41 quality was usable; from the great depth, however, at which it was obtained, and the precarious43 nature of the soil, it was very troublesome to get at it.
November 28. — This morning I sent away a dray with three horses, carrying seventy gallons of water to assist me in again endeavouring to get round the Bight. As the road was very scrubby, and much impeded44 by fallen timber, I had previously45 sent on a man to clear it a little; and about ten o’clock I followed with the native boy. We got tolerably well through the scrub, and encamped in a plain about sixteen miles from the depot, where there was good grass. The weather being cool and showery, our horses would not drink more than a bucket each from the casks.
November 29. — Having moved on the dray early over rather a heavy road, we took up our quarters under the white sand-drifts, after a stage of nine miles. I then left the boy in charge of the camp, and proceeded myself with the two men, and provided with spades and buckets, to where the overseer had obtained water by digging; the place was about two miles from our camp, between the sand-drifts and the sea, and immediately behind the front ridges46 of the coast. By enlarging the hole, and sinking a tub bored full of holes, we managed to water the horses, and get a supply for ourselves. In the afternoon an attempt was made to dig a well nearer the camp, but a stratum47 of rock put an end to our labours.
November 30. — Sending back one of the men to the depot, I left the native boy to guide the dray, whilst I diverged48 towards the coast to look for water among the sand-drifts, that were seen occasionally in that direction; in none of them, however, could I obtain a drop. The country travelled over consisted of very heavy sand ridges, covered for the most part with low scrub, and as the stage was a long one (twenty-two miles), I found upon overtaking the dray that the horses were knocked up, and a party of fourteen natives surrounding it, who were making vehement49 gesticulations to the man not to proceed, and he being only accompanied by a single black boy was greatly alarmed, and did not know what to do; indeed, had I not arrived opportunely50, I have no doubt that he would have turned the horses round, and driven back again. Upon coming up with the natives, I saw at once that none of them had been with us before, but at the same time they appeared friendly and well-behaved, making signs for us not to proceed, and pointing to some sand-drifts at the coast which we had passed, implying, as I understood them, that there was water there. We were now in an opening among the scrub, consisting of small grassy undulating plains, and at these I determined51 to halt for the night, hoping the natives would remain near us, and guide us to water to-morrow. To induce them to do this, after giving the horses each two buckets of water, I gave two gallons among them also, besides some bread. They at once took possession of an elevation52 a little above our position, and formed their camp for the night. As we were so few in number compared to the natives, we were obliged to keep a watch upon them during the whole night, and they did the same upon us — but at a much less individual inconvenience from their number; they appeared to take the duty in turn — two always being upon guard at once.
December 1. — After giving the natives some water, and taking breakfast ourselves, we moved on in the direction they wished us to go, followed by the whole party; at two miles they brought us to the sea over a dreadful heavy road, but upon then asking them where the water was, they now told us to our horror, that there was “mukka gaip-pe,” or, no water. The truth was now evident, we had mutually misunderstood one another; they seeing strangers suddenly appear, had taken it for granted they came from the sea, and pointed53 there, whilst we, intent only upon procuring water, had fancied they had told us we should find it where they pointed; upon reaching the coast both were disappointed — they at not seeing a ship, and we at not finding water.
It was now a difficult matter to decide what to do: our horses were greatly jaded, owing to the hilly and sandy character of the country; our water was reduced to a low ebb54 in the casks, for relying upon the natives guiding us to more, we had used it improvidently55; whilst the very least distance we could be away from the water, at the sand-drifts, was twenty-five miles; if we went back we lost all our previous labour, and could not do so without leaving the dray behind, and if we went forward, it was very problematical whether water could be procured within any distance attainable56 by our tired horses.
The natives now asserted there was water to the north-west, but that it was a long way off. As they still seemed willing to accompany us, I determined to proceed, and pushed on parallel with the coast behind the front ridges; at nine miles the horses were quite exhausted, and could get no further, so that I was obliged to halt for the night, where a few tufts of withered57 grass were found under the hummocks58.
Our sable42 friends had gradually dropped off, one or two at a time, until only three remained. These I endeavoured to make friends with, by giving them plenty of water and bread, and after taking a hasty meal, I got them to go with me and the native boy along the coast, to search for water. After going about a mile, they would proceed no further, making signs that they should be very thirsty, and enabling me clearly to comprehend, that there was no water until the head of the Great Bight was rounded. As I did not know exactly, what the actual distance might be, I still hoped I should be able to reach it, and leaving the natives to return, I and the boy pushed on beyond all the sandy hills and cliffs, to the low sandy tract59 bordering upon the head of the Bight, from which we were about twelve miles distant. The day was hazy60, or the cliffs of the Great Bight would have been distinctly visible.
We lost a good deal of time in tracking the foot-steps of a party of native women and children, among some bare sand-drifts, hoping the track would lead to water; but the party seemed to have been rambling61 about without any fixed62 object, and all our efforts to find water were in vain; the whole surface of the country, (except where it was hidden by the sand-drifts) was one sheet of limestone crust, and wherever we attempted to dig among the sand-drifts, the rock invariably stopped us.
As it was getting on towards evening, I returned to where I had left the dray, and giving each of the horses one bucket of water and five pints of oats, was obliged to have them tied for the night, myself and the man being too much fatigued64 to watch them.
December 2. — We had not moved far upon our return, when one of our most valuable dray-horses became completely overdone65 with fatigue63, and I was obliged to take it out of the team and put in a riding horse, to try, if possible, to reach the plains where the grass was. We just got to the borders of this open patch of country, when the poor animal (a mare66) could not be got a yard farther, and we were compelled to halt and decide upon what was best to be done. The water in the cask was nearly all consumed, the mare could not stir, and the other horses were very weak, so that no time was to be lost; I immediately decided upon leaving the man to take care of the mare and the dray, whilst I and the native boy took the other horses back for more water; having measured out to the man, water amounting to a quart per day, during our contemplated absence, I gave all that was left, consisting of about half a bucket full, to the mare, and then accompanied by the boy, pushed steadily67 back towards the water at the sand hills, distant about twenty-five miles. At dark we arrived there, but the sand had fallen in, and we had to labour hard to clear out the hole again; it was eleven o’clock at night before we could get the horses watered, and we then had to take them a mile and a half before we could get any grass for them. Returning from this duty, we had to collect and carry on our backs for more than a mile, a few bundles of sticks and bushes, to make a little fire for ourselves, near the water, the night being intensely cold. It was past two o’clock in the morning before we could lay down, and then, tired and harassed68 as we were, it was too cold and damp for us to rest.
December 3. — The scorching69 rays of the morning sun awoke us early, weary and unrefreshed, we had no trees to shade us, and were obliged to get up. After looking at the well, and congratulating ourselves upon its not having fallen in, we set off to look for the horses, they had wandered away in search of food, causing us a long and tiresome70 walk over the sand-hills in the sun, before we could find them; having at last got them and driven them to where the water was, we were chagrined71 to find that during our absence the well had again fallen in, and we had the labour of clearing it out to go through again.
The day was excessively oppressive, with a hot parching72 wind, and both we and the horses drank incessantly74. Towards night we took the horses away to the grass, and remained near them ourselves for the sake of the firewood, which was there more abundant.
We had thunder towards evening, and a few dops of rain fell, but not sufficient to moderate the temperature, the heat continuing as oppressive as before.
December 4. — After watering the horses, we took ten gallons upon a pack-horse, and proceeded on our return to the man we had left; the state in which our own horses were, having made it absolutely necessary to give them the day’s rest they had yesterday enjoyed. We arrived about five in the afternoon, at the little plain where we had left the man; he was anxiously looking out for us, having just finished his last quart of water. The poor mare looked very weak and wretched, but after giving her at intervals75, eight gallons of water, she fed a little, and I fully hoped we should succeed in saving her life. No natives had been seen during our absence.
The night set in very dark and lowering, and I expected a heavy fall of rain; to catch which we spread our oilskins and tarpaulin76, and placed out the buckets and pannekins, or whatever else would hold water: a few drops, however, only fell, and the storm passed away, leaving us as much under a feeling of disappointment, as we had been previously of hope: one little shower would have relieved us at once from all our difficulties.
December 5. — Upon getting up early, I thought the horses looked so much refreshed, that we might attempt to take back the dray, and had some of the strongest of them yoked77 up. We proceeded well for two miles and a half to our encampment of the 30th November; and as there was then a well defined track, I left the man to proceed alone, whilst I myself went once more to the coast to make a last effort to procure water among some of the sand-drifts. In this I was unsuccessful. There were not the slightest indications of water existing any where. In returning to rejoin the dray, I struck into our outward track, about three miles below, where I had left it, and was surprised to find that the dray had not yet passed, though I had been three hours absent. Hastily riding up the track, I found the man not half a mile from where I had left him, and surrounded by natives. They had come up shortly after my departure; and the man, getting alarmed, was not able to manage his team properly, but by harassing78 them had quite knocked up all the horses; the sun was getting hot, and I saw at once it would be useless to try and take the dray any further.
Having turned out the horses to rest a little, I went to the natives to try to find out, if possible, where they procured water, but in vain. They insisted that there was none near us, and pointed in the direction of the head of the Bight to the north-west, and of the sand hills to the south-east, as being the only places where it could be procured; when I considered, however, that I had seen these same natives on the 30th November, and that I found them within half a mile of the same place, five days afterwards, I could not help thinking that there must be water not very far away. It is true, the natives require but little water generally, but they cannot do without it altogether. If there was a small hole any where near us, why they should refuse to point it out, I could not imagine. I had never before found the least unwillingness79 on their part to give us information of this kind; but on the contrary, they were ever anxious and ready to conduct us to the waters that they were acquainted with. I could only conclude, therefore, that what they stated was true — that there was no water near us, and that they had probably come out upon a hunting excursion, and carried their own supplies with them in skins, occasionally, perhaps, renewing this from the small quantities found in the hollows of the gum scrub, and which is deposited there by the rains, or procuring a drink, as they required it, from the long lateral80 roots of the same tree. 26 I have myself seen water obtained in both these ways. The principal inducement to the natives to frequent the small plains where we were encamped, appeared to be, to get the fruit of the Mesembryanthemum, which grew there in immense quantities, and was now just ripe; whilst the scrub, by which these plains were surrounded, seemed to be alive with wallabie, adding variety to abundance in the article of food.
26 Vide Chapter XVI., towards the close.
We were now on the horns of a very serious dilemma81: our horses were completely fagged out, and could take the dray no further. We were surrounded by natives, and could not leave it, and the things upon it, whilst they were present (for many of these things we could not afford to lose); and on the other hand, we were twenty-two miles from any water, and our horses were suffering so much from the want of it, that unless we got them there shortly, we could not hope to save the lives of any one of them.
Had the natives been away, we could have buried the baggage, and left the dray; but as it was, we had only to wait patiently, hoping they would soon depart. Such, however, was not their intention; there they sat coolly and calmly, facing and watching us, as if determined to sit us out. It was most provoking to see the careless indifference82 with which they did this, sheltering themselves under the shade of a few shrubs83, or lounging about the slopes near us, to gather the berries of the Mesembryanthemum. I was vexed and irritated beyond measure, as hour after hour passed away, and our unconscious tormentors still remained. Every moment, as it flew, lessened84 the chance of saving the lives of our horses; and yet I could not bring myself to abandon so many things that we could not do without, and which we could not in any way replace. What made the circumstances, too, so much worse, was, that we had last night given to our horses every drop of water, except the small quantity put apart for our breakfasts.
We had now none, and were suffering greatly from the heat, and from thirst, the day being calm and clear, and intolerably hot. When we had first unyoked the horses, I made the man and native boy lay down in the shade, to sleep, whilst I attended to the animals, and kept an eye on the natives. About noon I called them up again, and we all made our dinner off a little bread, and some of the fruit that grew around us, the moisture of which alone enabled us to eat at all, our mouths were so thoroughly85 dry and parched86.
A movement was now observed among the natives; and gathering87 up their spears, they all went off. Having placed the native boy upon an eminence88 to watch them, the man and I at once set to work to carry our baggage to the top of a sand-hill, that it might be buried at some distance from the dray. We had hardly commenced our labours, however, before the boy called out that the natives were returning, and in a little time they all occupied their former position; either they had only gone as a ruse89 to see what we intended to do, or they had been noticing us, and had seen us removing our baggage, or else they had observed the boy watching them, and wished to disappoint him. Whatever the inducement was, there they were again, and we had as little prospect of being able to accomplish our object as ever. If any thing could have palliated aggressive measures towards the aborigines, it would surely be such circumstances as we were now in; our own safety, and the lives of our horses, depended entirely90 upon our getting rid of them. Yet with the full power to compel them (for we were all armed), I could not admit the necessity of the case as any excuse for our acting91 offensively towards those who had been friendly to us, and who knew not the embarrassment92 and danger which their presence caused us.
Strongly as our patience had been exercised in the morning, it was still more severely tested in the afternoon — for eight long hours had those natives sat opposite to us watching. From eight in the morning until four in the afternoon, we had been doomed93 to disappointment. About this time, however, a general movement again took place; once more they collected their spears, shouldered their wallets, and moved off rapidly and steadily towards the south-east. It was evident they had many miles to go to their encampment, and I now knew we should be troubled with them no more. Leaving the boy to keep guard again upon the hill, the man and I dug a large hole, and buried all our provisions, harness, pack-saddles, water-casks, etc. leaving the dray alone exposed in the plains. After smoothing the surface of the ground, we made a large fire over the place where the things were concealed, and no trace remained of the earth having been disturbed.
We had now no time to lose, and moving away slowly, drove the horses before us towards the water. The delay, however, had been fatal; the strength of the poor animals was too far exhausted, and before we had gone seven miles, one of them could not proceed, and we were obliged to leave him; at three miles further two more were unable to go on, and they, too, were abandoned, though within twelve miles of the water. We had still two left, just able to crawl along, and these, by dint94 of great perseverance95 and care, we at last got to the water about four o’clock in the morning of the 6th. They were completely exhausted, and it was quite impossible they could go back the same day, to take water to those we had left behind. The man, myself, and the boy were in but little better plight96; the anxiety we had gone through, the great heat of the weather, and the harassing task of travelling over the heavy sandy hills, covered with scrub, in the dark, and driving jaded animals before us, added to the want of water we were suffering under, had made us exceedingly weak, and rendered us almost incapable97 of further exertion98. In the evening I sent the man, who had been resting all day, to try and bring the two horses nearest to us a few miles on the road, whilst I was to meet him with water in the morning. Native fires were seen to the north-east of us at night, but the people did not seem to have been at the water at the sand-hills for their supply, no traces of their having recently visited it being found.
December 7. — After giving the horses water we put ten gallons upon one of them, and hurried off to the animals we had left. The state of those with us necessarily made our progress slow, and it was four o’clock before we arrived at the place where they were, about eleven miles from the water. The man had gone on to the furthest of the three, and had brought them all nearly together; upon joining him we received the melancholy99 intelligence, that our best draught100 mare had just breathed her last — another lay rolling on the ground in agony — and the third appeared but little better. After moistening their mouths with water, we made gruel101 for them with flour and water, and gave it to them warm: this they drank readily, and appeared much revived by it, so that I fully hoped we should save both of them. After a little time we gave each about four gallons of water, and fed them with all the bread we had. We then let them rest and crop the withered grass until nine o’clock, hoping, that in the cool of the evening, we should succeed in getting them to the water, now so few miles away. At first moving on, both horses travelled very well for two miles, but at the end of the third, one of them was unable to go any further, and I left the man to remain, and bring him on again when rested; the other I took on myself to within six miles of the water, when he, too, became worn out, and I had to leave him, and go for a fresh supply of water.
About four in the morning of the 8th, I arrived with the boy at the water, just as day was breaking, and quite exhausted. We managed to water the two horses with us, but were too tired either to make a fire or get anything to eat ourselves; and lay down for an hour or two on the sand. At six we got up, watered the horses again, and had breakfast; after which, I filled the kegs and proceeded once more with ten gallons of water to the unfortunate animals we had left behind. The black boy was too tired to accompany me, and I left him to enjoy his rest, after giving him my rifle for his protection, in the event of natives coming during my absence.
Upon arriving at the place where I had left the horse, I found him in a sad condition, but still alive. The other, left further away, in charge of the man, had also been brought up to the same place, but died just as I got up to him; there was but one left now out of the three, and to save him, all our care and attention were directed. By making gruel, and giving it to him constantly, we got him round a little, and moved him on to a grassy plain, about a mile further; here we gave him a hearty102 drink of water, and left him to feed and rest for several hours. Towards evening we again moved on slowly, and as he appeared to travel well, I left the man to bring him on quietly for the last five miles, whilst I took back to the water the two noble animals that had gone through so much and such severe toil103 in the attempt made to save the others. In the evening I reached the camp near the water, and found the native boy quite safe and recruited. For the first time for many nights, I had the prospect of an undisturbed rest; but about the middle of the night I was awoke by the return of the man with the woful news, that the last of the three horses was also dead, after travelling to within four miles of the water. All our efforts, all our exertions104 had been in vain; the dreadful nature of the country, and our unlucky meeting with the natives, had defeated the incessant73 toil and anxiety of seven days’ unremitting endeavours to save them; and the expedition had sustained a loss of three of its best horses, an injury as severe as it was irreparable.
December 9. — At day-break, this morning, I sent off the man to the depot at Fowler’s Bay, with orders to the overseer to send five fresh horses, two men, and a supply of provisions; requesting Mr. Scott to accompany them, for the purpose of taking back the two tired horses we still had with us at the sand-hills. Upon the man’s departure, we took the two horses to water, and brought up ten gallons to the camp, where the grass was; after which, whilst the horses were feeding and resting, we tried to pass away the day in the same manner; the heat, however, was too great, and the troubles and anxieties of the last few days had created such an irritation105 of mind that I could not rest: my slumbers106 were broken and unrefreshing; but the boy managed better, he had no unpleasant anticipations107 for the future, and already had forgotten the annoyance108 of the past.
December 10. — After an early breakfast, we took the horses to water and cleared the hole out thoroughly, as I expected five more horses in the evening. Upon returning to the plain, fires of the natives were again seen to the north-east; but they did not approach us. Our provisions were now quite exhausted, and having already lived for many days upon a very low diet, we looked out anxiously for the expected relay. About four o’clock, Mr. Scott, two men, and five horses arrived, bringing us supplies; so that no time had been lost after the arrival of my messenger. The hole having been previously enlarged and cleared out, no difficulty was experienced in watering the horses, and about sunset all encamped together under the sand-hills at the grassy plain.
December 11. — Leaving directions with Mr. Scott to take back to the depot, to-morrow, the two horses we had been working so severely, and which were now recruiting a little; and giving orders to the two men to follow the dray track to the north-west tomorrow, with the three fresh horses, I once more set off with the native boy to revisit the scene of our late disasters; and recover the dray and other things we had abandoned. We passed by the three dead horses on our route, now lying stiff and cold; in our situation a melancholy spectacle, and which awakened109 gloomy and cheerless anticipations for the future, by reminding us of the crippled state of our resources, and of the dreadful character of the inhospitable region we had to penetrate110. At dark we came to the little plain where the dray was, and found both it and our baggage undisturbed; nor was it apparent that any natives had visited the place since we left it. During the evening a few slight showers fell, which, with a heavy dew, moistened the withered grass, and enabled our horses to feed tolerably well.
December 12. — I had proceeded a day in advance of the men and horses coming to recover the dray, in order that I might satisfy myself whether there was water or not near the plains to the east or north-east, as there were some grounds for supposing that such might be the case, from the fact of so many natives having been twice seen there, and the probability that they had remained for five days in the neighbourhood. To-day I devoted111 to a thorough examination of the country around; and, accompanied by the boy, proceeded early away to the north-east, returning southerly, and then crossing back westerly to the camp. We travelled over a great extent of ground, consisting principally of very dense scrub, with here and there occasional grassy openings; but no where could we observe the slightest indications of the existence of water, although the traces of natives were numerous and recent; and we tracked them for several miles, often seeing places where they had broken down the shrubs to get a grub, which is generally found there, out of the root; and observing the fragments of the long lateral roots of the gum-scrub, which they had dug up to get water from. And this, I am inclined to think, is what they depend upon principally in these arid112 regions for the little water they require. The general direction taken by these wanderers of the desert, was to the north-east. About four o’clock the men with the dray-horses arrived, bringing ten gallons of water, which we divided among the horses, and then took it in turn to watch them during the night.
December 13. — Having buried a few things that I might require when I should come out here again, (for I determined not to give up the attempt to round the Great Bight,) I had all the rest of our luggage taken up, and the horses being harnessed, we returned with the dray to the water at the sand-hills, arriving there early in the afternoon. We had yoked up three strong fresh horses, that had done no work for some time previously; and yet, such was the nature of the country, that with an almost empty dray, they had hardly been able to reach the water, at the furthest only twenty-two miles distant, and in accomplishing this, they had been upwards113 of ten hours in the collar. How then could we expect to get through such a region with drays heavily loaded, as ours must be, when we moved on finally.
On the 14th we remained in camp to refresh the horses, and early on the following day proceeded through the scrub, on our return to the depot; first burying our pack-saddle, and a few other things, in the plain near the sand-hills. Notwithstanding the care we had taken of the horses, and the little work we had given them, they got fagged in going through the scrub, and I was obliged to halt the dray at the rocky well in the plains, five miles short of the depot. I myself went on with the boy to the camp at Point Fowler, where I found the party feasting upon emus, four of which they had shot during my absence.
December 16. — About ten to-day the dray and men arrived safely at the depot, being the last detachment of the party engaged in this most unfortunate expedition, which had occupied so much time and caused such severe and fatal loss, independently of its not accomplishing the object for which it was undertaken. In the evening I sent Mr. Scott to see if the cutter had returned, and upon his coming back he reported that she had just arrived, but that he had not been able to communicate with her.
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1
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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7
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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procuring
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的现在分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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19
retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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encumbered
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，拖累( encumber的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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27
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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28
limestone
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| n.石灰石 | |
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29
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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30
pints
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| n.品脱( pint的名词复数 )；一品脱啤酒 | |
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31
entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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33
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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34
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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35
marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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37
interspersed
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| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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38
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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39
jaded
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| adj.精疲力竭的；厌倦的；（因过饱或过多而）腻烦的；迟钝的 | |
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40
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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41
brackish
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| adj.混有盐的；咸的 | |
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42
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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43
precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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44
impeded
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| 阻碍，妨碍，阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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46
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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47
stratum
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| n.地层，社会阶层 | |
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48
diverged
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| 分开( diverge的过去式和过去分词 )； 偏离； 分歧； 分道扬镳 | |
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49
vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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50
opportunely
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| adv.恰好地，适时地 | |
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51
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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52
elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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53
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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54
ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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55
improvidently
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| adv.improvident（目光短浅的）的变形 | |
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56
attainable
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| a.可达到的，可获得的 | |
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57
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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58
hummocks
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| n.小丘，岗( hummock的名词复数 ) | |
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59
tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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60
hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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61
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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62
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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63
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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64
fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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65
overdone
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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66
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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67
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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68
harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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69
scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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70
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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71
chagrined
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| adj.懊恼的，苦恼的v.使懊恼，使懊丧，使悔恨( chagrin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72
parching
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| adj.烘烤似的，焦干似的v.（使）焦干， （使）干透( parch的现在分词 )；使（某人）极口渴 | |
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73
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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74
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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75
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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76
tarpaulin
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| n.涂油防水布，防水衣，防水帽 | |
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77
yoked
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| 结合（yoke的过去式形式） | |
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78
harassing
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| v.侵扰，骚扰( harass的现在分词 )；不断攻击（敌人） | |
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79
unwillingness
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| n. 不愿意，不情愿 | |
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80
lateral
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| adj.侧面的，旁边的 | |
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81
dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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82
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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83
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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84
lessened
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| 减少的，减弱的 | |
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85
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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86
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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87
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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88
eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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89
ruse
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| n.诡计，计策；诡计 | |
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90
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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91
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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93
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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94
dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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96
plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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97
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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100
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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101
gruel
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| n.稀饭，粥 | |
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102
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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103
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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104
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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105
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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106
slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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107
anticipations
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| 预期( anticipation的名词复数 )； 预测； （信托财产收益的）预支； 预期的事物 | |
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108
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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109
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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110
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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111
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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112
arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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113
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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