CHAPTER 6. edit
POINT CUNNINGHAM TO FITZ-ROY RIVER.
SURVEY THE COAST TO POINT CUNNINGHAM—MOVE THE SHIP—MOSQUITOES—SOUTHERN VIEW OF KING'S SOUND—SINGULAR VITREOUS FORMATION—MOVE TO THE SOUTH OF POINT CUNNINGHAM—CAPTAIN KING'S LIMIT—TERMINATION OF CLIFFY RANGE—DISASTER BAY—AN EXPLORING PARTY LEAVE IN THE BOATS—THE SHORE—A FRESHWATER LAKE—VALENTINE ISLAND—NATIVE FIRE AND FOOD—A HEAVY SQUALL—THE WILD OAT—INDICATIONS OF A RIVER—POINT TORMENT—GOUTY-STEM TREE AND FRUIT—LIMITS OF ITS GROWTH—ANOTHER SQUALL—WATER NEARLY FRESH ALONGSIDE—THE FITZ-ROY RIVER—TIDE BORE AND DANGEROUS POSITION OF THE YAWL—ASCENT OF THE FITZ-ROY—APPEARANCE OF THE ADJACENT LAND—RETURN ON FOOT—PERILOUS SITUATION AND PROVIDENTIAL ESCAPE—SURVEY THE WESTERN SHORE—RETURN TO THE SHIP—SPORTING, QUAIL AND EMUS—NATIVES—SHIP MOVED TO POINT TORMENT.
February 21, 1838.—We remained at this sheltered anchorage until the 21st, by which time the coast, so far as Point Cunningham, had been carefully examined. We found it everywhere indented with deep bays, in each of which good anchorage was to be found. The water's edge was in almost every place fringed with the closely twining mangrove trees, behind which the country gradually rose to an average level of about 200 feet, being thickly covered with the various sorts of Eucalypti, for which all the explored portions of this continent are more or less remarkable.
In the afternoon of the 21st, we moved into a bay N.W. of Point Cunningham, and anchored in 8 fathoms (low-water) about a mile N.W. from that point; having passed over a bank of 5 or 6 fathoms, with 12 on its outer, and 10 on its inner side, and lying 2¼ miles north from Point Cunningham.
I spent the early part of this night on shore, a circumstance of which the tormenting mosquitoes took every possible advantage; finally driving me from their territory with every indignity, and in a state of mind anything but placid. The poet doubtless spoke from experience when he asserted:
- "—there was never yet philosopher
- That could endure the toothache patiently."
And even could such a prodigy of patient endurance be found, I am sure it would fail him when exposed to the ceaseless persecution of these inexorable assailants.
February 22.—The greater part of to-day was spent in making a more minute examination of the bay, the shoal discovered yesterday rendering a more careful search necessary. From the summit of Point Cunningham, I had a fine view of the opposite shore of the sound; very broken and rugged it appeared to be. To the S.E. and south I could see no land; a circumstance which raised my hopes of finding in that direction the long and anxiously expected river, which the geological formation of the country, and all the recorded experience of discovery, alike warranted us in anticipating. The point upon which I stood was a steep and cliffy rock facing the sea, connected with the mainland by a low and narrow neck of land, but almost insulated at high-water during the spring tides. A singular cliff, projecting on its S.E. side, is called by Captain King, Carlisle Head; but we searched in vain for the fresh water, which that distinguished navigator speaks of, as having been found there by him in 1819.
We remarked here, certain vitreous formations, in all, except form, identical with those already described as having been seen at Point Swan. These were small balls lying loose on the sandy beach, at the bottom of the cliff; they were highly glazed upon the surface, hollow inside, and varying in size from a musket, to a tennis ball.*
February 23.—We weighed early in the morning, and rounded Point Cunningham; anchoring again at 10 o'clock a.m., 8 miles north of it, in 7 fathoms (low-water); W. by N., one mile from where we lay, a red cliffy head, called by Captain King, in memory of the difficulties which ultimately compelled him to leave this interesting coast, Foul Point, marks the limit of his survey of this part of the northern shore of Australia, and terminates the range of cliffs,† which, up to this point, forms nature's barrier against the sea. Beyond it, the coast assumes a low and treacherous character, and subsides into a deep bay, called by Captain King, not without reason, Disaster Bay.
- * Vide Mr. Darwin on "superficial ferrugineous beds" Geology of Volcanic Islands page 143.
- † The cliffs at Foul Point and Point Cunningham unite the sandstone and argillaceous formation.
From the masthead, from whence I hoped to get a wide view of the unknown waters we were about to explore, I could just see Valentine Island, bearing S.S.E. about 17 miles. Its lofty extremities alone being visible, it had the appearance of two islands.
Here, then, a really most interesting—nay, a most exciting—portion of the duties of the survey were to commence in earnest; and it was reserved for us to take up the thread of discovery reluctantly abandoned by our enterprising and scientific predecessor, at the moment when the prize was almost within his grasp.
It was forthwith determined, that Captain Wickham and Mr. Fitzmaurice should collect the necessary materials for completing the survey, and preparing the chart of the bay in the immediate neighbourhood of the ship; while to myself the whale boat and yawl were to be entrusted; nor can I describe with what delight, all minor annoyances forgotten, I prepared to enter upon the exciting task of exploring waters unfurrowed by any preceding keel; and shores, on which the advancing step of civilization had not yet thrown the shadows of her advent, nor the voice of that Christianity, which walks by her side through the uttermost parts of the earth, summoned the wilderness and the desert to hail the approaching hour, in the fulness of which all the earth shall be blessed!
Soon after dark we were visited by a squall from the eastward, longer in duration, and heavier than any we had before experienced. From our exposed situation—no land intervening for 30 miles—it raised a good deal of sea: the wind remained fresh at the east during the greater part of the night.
February 24.—The morning broke, dark, gloomy, and threatening; but, as the day advanced, it gradually assumed its usual bright and brilliant character; and at seven a.m. we started, Mr. Helpman having the whaleboat, while Mr. Tarrant accompanied me in the yawl. We crossed Disaster Bay in four and five fathoms, steering in the direction of Valentine Island, and inside a long sandy spit, partly dry at low-water, and extending two-thirds of the way across.
While waiting for the tide to rise, in order to cross this natural breakwater, we landed, and struggled for a good mile through a mixture of deep mud and sand, drifted, at the coastline, into hills of from twenty-five to thirty feet high, and bound together by a long coarse grass; immediately beyond which we came upon a small lake of fresh water, where all the luxuriant growth of tropical vegetation was starting into life, and presenting an almost miraculous contrast to the barren sterility, that stamped an aspect of changeless desolation upon the rest of this inhospitable shore. Indeed, so far as our experience extended, upon the coasts, and within the interior of this in many respects extraordinary continent, the want of water appears to be the chief drawback to the fertility otherwise to be anticipated from its geographical position: at the same time, it is quite impossible to blind oneself to the fact, that further researches on the one hand, and the application of the great discoveries in hydraulics, of which recent years have been so fruitful, on the other, may, and probably will, spread the vernal bloom of cultivation over wastes, now condemned to prolonged and arbitrary periods of drought.
This spot, which long arrested my attention, and upon which I gazed with the selfish feeling of delight inspired by the thought that thereon never before had rested the curious eye of any restless and indefatigable wanderer from the west, is distant about 500 yards N.N.W., from a solitary patch of low red cliffs, the first of this formation that present themselves south of Foul Point.
Extensive flats fronting the coast to the southward, almost connect it at low-water with Valentine Island, which we reached at two p.m., just on the top of high-water, and shortly afterwards grounded the boats in a small bay to the westward. The greatest extent of Valentine Island is three-quarters of a mile in an E. by S. direction: either extremity is formed by high cliffs, a low valley intervening.
On landing we found a fire still burning, near the beach, and beside it a bundle of the bark of the papyrus tree, in which were carefully packed a quantity of ground nuts, they were each about three-quarters of an inch long, and in shape not unlike a kidney potato;* it seemed clear, judging from the native value of the commodities thus rashly abandoned, that our arrival had rather taken by surprise these untutored children of the wilderness: we saw nothing of them till we had reembarked, when (four or five only in number) they returned to the beach; and we could perceive that our foot tracks, upon which they appeared to hold an animated debate, had, to say the least, mightily puzzled them. I ascended the highest point of the island in the afternoon, and from thence looked over several miles of densely wooded country, but offering no appearance of land to the eastward of S.S.E. We gazed with indescribable delight upon the wide expanse of open water which lay before us in that direction, and already anticipated the discovery of some vast inlet, terminating in the mouth of a magnificent river, upon the exploration of which our imagination was already busily engaged; nor for the moment did the thought, or rather the recollection of the fact, that Captain King had seen land (by refraction) in that quarter, serve to damp our ardour. When it made its way, and perseveringly insisted upon engaging a certain share of my attention, its presence only added an additional motive to my previous determination to set the question at rest by personal examination, and in the interim, to look immediately before sunrise (when the atmosphere within the tropics is always clear) for the very sight I should have been most disappointed to have beheld. During the afternoon I shot over the island, and enjoyed some very fair sport; especially with the pheasant-cuckoo,** and quail, large and small, which were numerous: several birds not unlike the so-called crow of the Swan River colonists were seen. We found no fresh water, but in addition to the abundance of game, the presence of the natives, proves the island to be not wholly destitute of this first requisite of life. The thermometer at 3 p.m., was 100 in the shade, while the unnatural calm that reigned around gave the experienced seaman plain warning of some disturbance at hand.
- * This esculent appeared to resemble the warran, or yam, used for food by the native inhabitants north of Swan River.
- * Centropus phasianellus.—Gould.
Just before sunset these anxious anticipations proved correct: a mass of broad edged white clouds rose rapidly in the east, and spread over the till then unbroken blue of the vast vault above; among or rather behind the interstices of these clouds, the lightning quivered and flashed fearfully and fitfully, gleaming with a terrible distinctness in the fading light of expiring day! Anon, darker and more ominous clouds succeeded to the first, and quickly uniting seemed to span all heaven with a frowning arch, that came rapidly onwards upon the wings of the now-rising tempest. It was some time ere its approach either attracted the attention or disturbed the boisterous mirth of the boats' crews, who, with the enviable philosophy of their class, were gaily laughing over the incidents of the day. I had just secured a good latitude by Canopus, when the squall burst upon us from E.S.E., it blew very hard indeed for about an hour, veering round to, and terminating at, N.E., and then all was calm again; partaking of the general characteristics of previous visitations of the same kind, to which we have been subject since our arrival upon this coast, it lasted for a much less time, as hitherto their average duration had been about three hours. It brought the thermometer down to 80°. All was quiet by midnight, and undisturbed by the past we finished the night in peace. Daybreak found us at the eastern end of the island, from which point we observed a low strip of land bearing east about 16 miles distant; a fact which re-establishes Captain King's authority, against Mr. Earle's contradiction.* This confirmation of that distinguished and able navigator, in some degree reconciled me to the unpropitious discovery, that the shores of this great sheet of water were visibly beginning to contract.
- * Vide Earle's Eastern Seas page 451.
During our walk we noticed the wild oat in great abundance. This valuable species of corn is then indigenous to this part of the world. Ere long, perhaps, the time will arrive when upon the coast, where now in native negligence "it springs and dies," it may spread the white and glistening garment of cultivation—testify the existence—and promote the comfort of social life. The same seed was found near Hanover Bay, by Lieutenants Grey and Lushington, and throve exceedingly well in the soft and luxurious climate of the ever-verdant Mauritius. Leaving some presents in a conspicuous situation for the present rightful possessors of the island, whose temporary shelter we had obtained, we hastened back to the boats, and stood away to the eastward for the low land seen from the island, and crossed various narrow sandy ridges, nearly dry at low-water, and generally trending N. and S., showing the direction of the stream by which they were formed, and at distances of 5, 7, 9, and 12 miles, in an E. by S. direction from Valentine Island; the soundings between them averaged from 7 to 9 fathoms. A favouring breeze from the south helped us halfway across to the point, from whence I hoped and believed we should hereafter date the first great event of the voyage; and then dying away, compelled us to take to the oars, with the thermometer at 110° in the shade.
As we proceeded, several circumstances concurred to satisfy me that we were at length really approaching the mouth of a considerable river; large trees drifted past us with the ebbing tide, while each cast of the lead proved that we were gradually, though nearing the land, deepening the water.
Fortune too seemed now resolved to favour us, the deep channel most opportunely lying along the eastern shore, which we reached soon after noon, and landed on the only beach of sand hereabouts left uncovered at high-water. Here, for better security against the squalls we had experienced for the last two nights, we hauled up the boats. A name was soon found for our new territory, upon which we with rueful unanimity conferred that of Point Torment, from the incessant and vindictive attacks of swarms of mosquitoes, by whom it had evidently been resolved to give the newcomers a warm welcome. The greater part of Point Torment is deeply intersected with deep narrow creeks, and is almost entirely flooded at high-water: it extends low and swampy for nearly three miles in breadth, and then rises gradually, the slope being well wooded with the white Eucalypti. Here also I remarked the gouty-stem tree, figured by Captain Grey, and described by Captain King, as of the Nat. Ord. Capparides, and thought to be a Capparis; it also bears a resemblance to the Adansonia described in Captain Tuckey's Congo. This was but a small specimen in fruit, of which the following brief description may convey a tolerably clear idea. In shape it something resembled the coconut, with a gourd-like outside, of a brown and yellow colour. Its length was five inches, and diameter three. The shell was exceedingly thin, and when opened it was found to be full of seeds, imbedded in a whitish pulp, and of a not ungrateful taste.
This place, lat. 17° 5' S., may be considered the limit of its growth in that direction, and the Victoria River, of which I shall have occasion to speak hereafter, in lat. 14° 55', the northern boundary of its indigenous empire.
We saw no traces of inhabitants, not even the thin rising smoke, which so often greeted our eyes near the coast we had recently surveyed. I climbed the highest tree we could find, and from the elevation it afforded looked southwards over a wide prospect of nothing but mangroves and mudbanks; still interesting from the fact that upon them the wondering gaze of the curious European had never yet been bent!
Procuring the necessary observations completed the duties of the day; but, alas! the sleep all could have enjoyed so much after our work, was rendered impossible by the swarms of mosquitoes, who at sunset relieved those of their tribe upon whom the day duty had devolved, and commenced a most unsparing attack upon us: all devices to escape them were tried in vain, and some of the men were really half mad with the insufferable annoyance: at last, about eight o'clock, when all patience seemed exhausted, a welcome peal of thunder, and bright flashes of lightning announced the expected and much desired squall. It served to blow away some of our persecutors; but our rest was of very short duration, and I was at length compelled to order the people to take to the boats, fairly driven from the shore by our diminutive but invincible assailants. The tide set past the boats at the rate of four knots per hour, and it fell 33 feet, being 6 feet more than we had as yet found it. The only rock seen here was a block, visible at low-water; it was a conglomerate, and the most southerly formation of the kind we met with.
February 26.—The daylight found us all anxiously speculating upon the probable results to be accomplished before the darkness once more closed in upon us, but the morning being perfectly calm, we were compelled to wait till the flood-tide made: this soon took us past an island four miles from the eastern shore, seen the evening before, and which now proved to be a narrow strip, covered with the never-failing mangrove; and having two smaller islands, nearly identical in character, lying two miles south of it. We passed them at noon, and saw the land to the westward, our position being then 20 miles south of Point Torment. The water had shoaled in several places during the passage to less than a fathom (low-water); but the tide hemmed in by the contraction of this great inlet (the left shore of which gradually trending to the eastward, here approached to within six miles of the opposite coast) still hurried us on with a rapidity agreeable enough but not quite free from danger, towards what appeared to be the mouth of a large river. If our exultation had been great in the morning, when such success as this was only half anticipated, what was it at that exciting moment when the eventful hour which should give us the triumph of such a discovery as that we now fairly anticipated, seemed within our grasp? I cannot answer for others, but for myself I had never known a sensation of greater delight. Doubt, disappointment, difficulty, and danger; all, all were unheeded or forgotten in the one proud thought that for us was reserved an enterprise the ultimate results of which might in some future year affect the interests of a great portion of the world! Presently, as if to recall to their routine of duty, these upward-springing thoughts, the boats were found to be rapidly carried by the stream towards an extensive flat, which appeared to extend right across the opening towards which all eyes had been turned with so much eagerness, and over which the tide was boiling and whirling with great force. To attempt to cross would have been madness; there was nothing, therefore, to be done but patiently await the rising of the tide.
The nearest land, a mangrove point bearing S.S.E. one mile, we afterwards named Escape Point, in grateful memory of the providential escapes we experienced in its vicinity. Where the boats were anchored we had nearly five feet at low-water, and the tide ran past them at the rate of five miles an hour. As soon as possible we again started, in a south by west direction, and proceeded for about five miles, when the boats were anchored, near the western shore, which we proposed to visit at low-water. From the yawl's masthead I traced the shore all round, except to the south-east, where I could see an opening about a mile wide. The western land was slightly elevated, perhaps to 70 feet, and clothed with rather large trees, while to the eastward the land appeared very low. As the tide ebbed, we found, to our disappointment and mortification, that the flat over which we reckoned to secure a passage to the mainland, never became quite dry (the tide here falling only 18 feet) while from its soft and treacherous character, it was impossible to cross it on foot.
All doubt about our being in the mouth of a river was put an end to by finding that, during the last of the ebb, the water was nearly fresh. This discovery was hailed by us all with a pleasure which persons only familiar with the well-watered and verdant fields of England cannot fully comprehend.
Our success afforded me a welcome opportunity of testifying to Captain Fitz-Roy my grateful recollection of his personal kindness; and I determined, with Captain Wickham's permission, to call this new river after his name, thus perpetuating, by the most durable of monuments, the services and the career of one, in whom, with rare and enviable prodigality, are mingled the daring of the seaman, the accomplishments of the student, and the graces of the Christian—of whose calm fortitude in the hour of impending danger, or whose habitual carefulness for the interests of all under his command, if I forbear to speak, I am silent because, while I recognise their existence, and perceive how much they exalt the character they adorn, I feel, too, that they have elevated it above, either the need, or the reach of any eulogy within my power to offer!
I felt pretty confident that the first rush of the tide upon its reflux would be violent, and had made preparation accordingly. In the first watch these anticipations were realized, and I was roused from a momentary doze by a loud roaring, which I at once recognized to be the voice of thunder, heralding the advancing tide.
The night was pitch dark, and though I instinctively turned my eyes towards the offing, I could see nothing, but as each anxious moment passed away, the fearful voice of the waters sounded nearer and nearer, and within less time than I have occupied in the narration, the full force of the rush of tide coming on like a wall, several feet high, and bringing our anchor away with it, was upon us. The cable thus slackened, the yawl sheered, and was thrown violently upon her broadside in the midst of it, and had it not been for the shores lashed to each mast, she must inevitably have capsized. The whaleboat fared better; being lighter she was the sooner afloat, and besides her buoyant bow was the better able to receive and resist the shock. When the tide slacked we returned to the deep water off Escape Point, and spent the remainder of the night in quiet, I would fain hope, so far as most of us were concerned, not without a thankful remembrance of Him, whose merciful providence had been so recently manifested in our behalf!
February 27.—Leaving Mr. Tarrant in charge of the yawl, I proceeded with Mr. Helpman to trace the river, immediately after daylight. Against the last of the ebb tide, and with the thermometer at 80°, we contrived to reach a spot two miles beyond Point Escape before noon. From Point Escape upwards, there appeared to be, at low-water, no regular channel; the bed of the river assumed the aspect of an extensive flat of mud, intersected with small rivulets or streams that served to drain it. No signs of human habitation were seen along its banks, which divided by numerous small creeks, and thickly fringed with the unfailing mangrove, stretched away in level and drear monotony, only broken towards the west by land of inconsiderable elevation. The circling flight of the ever-wary curlew, and the shrill cry of the plover, now first disturbed in their accustomed territory, alone vouched for the presence of animal life in that vast solitude, the effect of which they heightened, rather than removed!
Finding the further ascent almost if not altogether impracticable at the present state of the tide, I ordered the boat back to Point Escape, and landed, accompanied by Mr. Helpman, and a seaman, intending to return on foot.
The shore was a soft mud, in which the small mangroves had found a most congenial soil: while our journey every now and then, arrested by the intervention of one or other of the numerous little creeks of which I have before spoken, promised to prove a more fatiguing, if not more hazardous affair, than we had originally contemplated.
We managed at first, by ascending their banks for a short distance from the river, to jump across these opposing creeks, but as the tide rose, they filled and widened in proportion, and each moment increased the difficulties of our position, now heightened by the untoward discovery that William Ask, the seaman who had accompanied us, was unable to swim!
Time and tide, however, wait for no man, and the rapidly rising waters had flooded the whole of the low land which formed this bank of the river, so that we were compelled to wade, feeling with a stick for the edges of the creeks in our route, over each of which Mr. Helpman and myself had alternately to swim in order to pass the arms undamaged; and then Ask, making the best jump that he could muster for the occasion, was dragged ashore on the opposite side. At length we reached a creek, the breadth of which rendered this mode of proceeding no longer practicable, and we were compelled to stop, being fortunately very near the point where I had directed the boat to meet us. Our situation was now anything but pleasant, the water being already above our knees, and the tide having still several hours to rise; while the mangrove trees by which we were surrounded, were all too slender to afford the least support.
In this state of affairs, leaving Mr. Helpman with Ask—who had secured a piece of drift timber as a last resource—I made my way to the edge of the shore, only to find that the boat, unable to stem the current, had anchored some distance above us! Mr. Helpman and myself might have reached her by swimming; but even could I have easily reconciled myself to part with our arms and instruments, at any rate to abandon poor Ask in the dilemma into which I had brought him was not to be thought of. By repeated discharges of my gun I at last succeeded in attracting the attention of the boat's crew, who made an immediate and desperate effort to come to our assistance: while their strength lasted they just contrived to hold their own against the tide, then, drifting astern, were again compelled to anchor. The attempt was renewed, when an equally desperate struggle was followed by just as fruitless a result: the force of the stream was clearly more than they could overcome, and an intervening bank precluded any attempt to creep up to us along the shore.
Most anxiously did I watch the water as it changed its upward level almost with the rapidity of an inch a minute, being in doubt whether it would rise above our heads, ere it afforded a sufficient depth to carry the boat over the intervening bank, and bring us the only assistance that would afford a chance for our lives. I breathed a short, but most fervent prayer to Him, "in whose hands are the issues of life and death," and turned back to cheer my comrades with the chance of rescue.
Nor shall I ever forget the expression of thankfulness and gratitude which lit up the face of poor Ask, as the whispers of hope were confirmed by the welcome advance of the whaleboat's bows through the almost submerged mangroves, just as the water had topped our shoulders; and, therefore, barely in time to confirm upon this locality its former title of Point Escape!
We now pulled down to this last-named point, and waited for the tide to fall, in order to obtain the necessary observations for determining its position: those for latitude, taken in the early part of the night, gave a result (worked on the spot) of 17° 24½' S.; being an increase in latitude of 35 miles from the present position of the 'Beagle.'
Having now but two days' provisions remaining, I determined on completing the survey of the western shore, south of Valentine Island, and then to return and report our discovery, knowing that Captain Wickham would do all in his power to prosecute it to the utmost.
March 3.—These plans were accordingly carried into effect, and we returned to the ship on the morning of the 3rd of March. We found all well on board, with the exception of poor Mr. Usborne, whom we were delighted to see so far recovered. One sentiment of satisfaction pervaded the whole ship's company, when informed of our success; and, as I had anticipated, Captain Wickham at once determined upon further exploring our new discovery in lighter boats, first placing the ship as near the mouth of it as practicable. During the squall, on the first night of our absence, the ship parted her cable, and was nearly on the rocks.
Our sportsmen had been actively and successfully employed during our absence, having shot a great number of quail; they had seen two emus, and Messrs. Bynoe and Dring had obtained several specimens of rare birds, all of which are now figured by Mr. Gould in his Birds of Australia. A few natives had also been seen, but they were too wary to permit any intercourse with them.
March 4.—This was Sunday, and no imperative necessity hindered our making it a day of rest. Various necessary observations occupied the greater part of Monday; and, on the day following, the ship was moved, under my guidance, to an anchorage, in 5 fathoms (low-water) 2½ miles west from Point Torment.