Volume Ii Part 16 (2/2)
Wednesday, 27th December, 1848.
At three o'clock A.M., the Captain called me, and such had been the preparation last night that in a quarter of an hour we were in the longboat, steering for the sh.o.r.e, and just as daylight was peeping we were near the sh.o.r.e in shallow water, and a fire sprung up nearly in front of us a little way in from the beach. The boat struck on the ground, and we waded through the water for about a hundred yards or more knee deep. Jackey took the lead, the Captain and I following, Barrett and Tom behind, and mounted the low scrubby cliff about two hundred yards from where we saw the fire. On we trudged through dense scrub inland for about an hour, When Jackey said we must go further up that way, pointing more in the south part of the bay; that is where I want to go, said he, and that we had better cross there in the boat and recommence the trip.
On reaching the coast we hailed the boat, which was anch.o.r.ed off a little, and waded out to it. Having seen a great smoke last evening and apparently one this morning, some distance beyond where Jackey wished us to land, he was asked if we should go first to this native fire and camp, and see if they have anything there belonging to the three men, and Jackey said, yes. We proceeded there, a distance of about four miles to the southernmost part of the bay, and landed, but could discover only the remains of a bushfire and no camp; we now left this part and proceeded to exactly where Jackey pointed out on the beach, more in the central part of the bay, some three miles across, and landed, telling the men in the boat to anchor a little higher up to the north, where Jackey said we should come out at by-and-bye. We left word with the men in the boat that we might be away for three hours or more, and that we should fire a gun on our return, which was to be answered by them.
Jackey was now head and leading man in every sense of the word, and away we went in a westerly direction, for about, say, five or six miles; Jackey telling us to look out behind and all about for the blacks. After proceeding some four miles of the distance, we came to a creek where we stopped for a few minutes; Jackey was evidently tired, not recovered, and could not walk fast, and although we went off at first at a good pace, Jackey was getting lame, and had been obliged to sit down three times on the journey. About two miles beyond this creek Jackey got up into a tree, and returned saying he could see the mountain near which the camp was, but that it was a long way off, that we could not get there to-night, but that we must camp in the bush, and get there to-morrow. It here became necessary to pause. The s.h.i.+p was left with two hands only in her, anch.o.r.ed in shallow water, and the Captain said promptly that he could not proceed farther without great risk of losing the s.h.i.+p, either from its coming on to blow, or that natives may attack her in their canoes; (here I may say what has been omitted, namely, that in the early part of the morning we saw and examined a canoe close to where we first landed, and found part of a cloak in it, which Jackey immediately p.r.o.nounced as belonging to the white men at the camp) and it was determined, well considering all circ.u.mstances, to return to the s.h.i.+p, which we did, coming out on the beach under mangroves, at the very spot we told Jackey to come out at on our leaving. We arrived at the s.h.i.+p at twelve minutes before four P.M. During our absence the men in the boat had seen on the beach from fifty to one hundred natives. We saw none. The day has been very hot, and we are in a fix, surrounded by reefs, and some little anxiety is existing as to how we shall get out again. We have determined to proceed to Weymouth Bay, and in so doing I have taken everything into consideration. We have eight men to attend to at Weymouth Bay. In all probability the three men here are dead, for when Jackey left them, Costigan was nearly dead, and Luff was very ill. The cloak taken from the canoe shows that the blacks have found their camp, and had we gone on there, which would have taken a day or two at least more, we should only have found, I verily believe, as Jackey says, ”bones belonging to whitefellows.” After getting on board, Jackey went to sleep, thoroughly done up. He fell asleep also in coming off in the boat.
Thursday, December 28.
This has been a day of anxiety. We left a little after daylight, not without feelings of disappointment and dissatisfaction at not having been successful in rescuing the men, who it was possible might be yet alive.
We were surrounded by reefs, a light breeze, and fair depth of water--called out by the leadsman, 2, 2 1/2, 2, 3 fathoms, until after some time we got into deeper water, and pa.s.sed out of the Bay in safety.
Not a fire had been seen on the sh.o.r.e all night, nor was there a native to be seen this morning from the vessel. We pa.s.sed numerous islands, until the Piper Islands came in sight. We calculated upon making them for our anchorage, but a squall came on, and the wind s.h.i.+fted, and we were compelled to anchor at half-past seven P.M., in fifteen fathoms water, near a reef. Some native fires were seen on the coast to-day. I find the native on board understands and speaks the same language as the Port Albany blacks, and repeats all their names to me. He eats and drinks heartily, and lends apparently a most willing hand towards securing himself with the leather straps.
Friday, 29th December.
Left our anchorage at daylight in the morning; pa.s.sed between the Piper Islands and Bald Head. When off Fair Cape saw a smoke on the sh.o.r.e, and three natives, who immediately disappeared in the scrub and were seen no more. On rounding the Cape it became a dead calm, and it was intensely hot; we saw a smoke and a large fire ahead of us. Jackey recognised the land and said the smoke was at the mouth of a river which Mr. Kennedy and he had crossed after leaving the camp. The land where the camp and eight men were Jackey pointed out ahead of us, opposite to Weymouth Bay; a heavy squall and thunderstorm with rain came on very suddenly, and beyond the mouth of the river, with the camping-hill ahead of us, we came to an anchor, between two and three o'clock P.M.; could not see any flagstaff on the hill pointed out by Jackey, and which hill is very conspicuous and bald, nor could we see any symptom of living beings along the coast in the bay. It was too great a distance to land to-night, and the Captain said if it came on to blow the boat could not be got back again. Employed the other part of the day in looking through the gla.s.s and with the naked eye to see the flagstaff and flag, or any other sign (Jackey having informed us they would have a flag on the top of the hill) but none was to be seen, not a native, and I have reason to believe every one of the eight have been sacrificed; it looks suspicious not seeing a native, for Jackey says they used to bring fish to the camp, and there were plenty of them. The Captain is to take the s.h.i.+p in as near as possible to the hill, and it is determined to go on sh.o.r.e with the same party who a.s.sisted us at Shelburne Bay, and go up to the camp to-morrow well armed. All this evening a solemn, silent, inexpressible gloom; no rockets, no gun, no fire, to-morrow will tell a tale.
Sat.u.r.day, 30th December, 1848.
At daylight this morning the s.h.i.+p was got underweigh, and sailed nearer in towards the hill which Jackey had pointed out as being the hill where ”camp sit down,” and anch.o.r.ed in about two fathoms of water about half a mile off the land. Five canoes were now seen creeping off towards us from under the mangroves, with from five to ten natives in each (there was yet no flag or any token of white people on the hill); the canoes gradually neared in a string, and one came cautiously alongside, making signs and saying ”ferraman, ferraman,” ”white man, white man,” and pointing towards Jackey's mountain. We were at first doubtful whether they were disposed to be friendly or not, and afterwards seeing some children with them and one or two females, we concluded they were disposed to be friendly, and that they knew the parties at the camp. A few lines were written to the party at the camp, stating a vessel was in the bay, and the bearer, one of the natives, would take them to it. This was given to one of the natives in the first canoe, and Jackey, whom the natives recognised, beckoned and motioned to them to take the note to the camp. In the meantime the Captain and I had determined as soon as the boat could be got ready, to proceed according to Jackey's instructions to the camp. The boat left with our party, and Jackey directed us some distance off in the wake of the canoes, there being nothing but a mangrove swamp on the sh.o.r.e near us. We landed beside of a creek knee-deep in water, among some mangroves. Here we got out of the boat, Jackey, the Captain, Barrett, and myself, Tom, the sailor, who had accompanied us before, saying he could not go, that he had a bad leg. We were a little disappointed here, but said nothing, and proceeded, Jackey leading, myself, the Captain, and Barrett following, through a mangrove swamp, for some considerable distance, all well armed. Getting out of the swamp we came upon a beautiful flat, and followed up a creek which Jackey said would lead up to the camp. After getting on (keeping a good lookout) for about two miles, Jackey doubled his pace, and all at once said with great emphasis, ”I see camp.” ”Well done, Jackey,” I think was exclaimed by all of us at the same moment. Jackey, still going on at a sharp pace, stopped for a moment and said, ”I not sure, I believe it is hole through tree,” and suddenly, with greater excitement than before, he exclaimed, ”See two whitefellows sit down, and camp.” We were now on one side of the creek: down the creek we went, and up on the other side in double-quick time, and a scene presented itself. On the side of the hill, not two hundred yards from us, were two men sitting down, looking towards us, the tent and fire immediately behind them; and on coming up to them, two of the most pitiable creatures imaginable were sitting down. One had sufficient strength to get up; the other appeared to be like a man in the very last stage of consumption. Alas! alas! they were the only two left of the eight, the remainder having died from starvation. Whilst here we were considering what was best to be done, when natives in great numbers were descried watching our movements. Jackey said, ”Doctor,” calling me aside, ”now I tell you exactly what to do, you see those blackfellows over there” (and in pointing to them I saw a great number, some eight hundred yards away, peeping from behind trees) ”you leave him tent, everything, altogether there, and get the two whitefellows down to the boat quick.”
Jackey was exceedingly energetic, and grave as well. Get away as quick as possible, was resounded by all, but what was to be done--two men almost dead to walk two or three miles. We looked over the tent, asked Carron for what important things there were, and each laid hold of what appeared to be of most value, the Captain taking two s.e.xtants, other parties firearms, etc., etc. ”Come along,” again and again Jackey called out, and the Captain too, whilst they were halfway down towards the creek, and Barrett and I loaded ourselves. I took a case of seeds, some papers of Carron's, a double gun and pistol, which, together with my own double gun and brace of pistols, thermometer, and my pockets full of powder and shot, was as much as I could manage. Seeing Carron could not get along, I told him to put his hands on my shoulders, and in this way he managed to walk down, as far as nearly through the mangrove swamp, towards the water's edge, when he could not in that way possibly get any further, and Barrett, with his disabled arm, carried him down to the edge of the water. G.o.ddard, the other survivor, was just able to walk down, spoke, and looked exceedingly feeble. They were brought on board at noon, and attended to according to my instructions. Carron's legs were dreadfully swollen, about three times their natural size, from oedema. In the afternoon both reviving and thanking G.o.d for their deliverance. I was for some time afraid of Carron. At ten P.M.--they are both doing well, and, I trust, will be enabled to tell their own tale, which renders it unnecessary for me to write it down here. I told the Captain to proceed direct on to Sydney. Jackey, Carron, and G.o.ddard, and the Captain, stating it would be running too great a risk to go to recover anything from the tent, moreover, with so small a party as the Captain, Jackey, and myself (Barrett really being unfit to go) and the sailors all refusing to go. I consider the Captain deserves considerable credit for his actions throughout in exerting himself to rescue the survivors.
Sunday, December 31.
At daylight got underweigh and took our departure from Weymouth Bay for Sydney. Carron and G.o.ddard were some considerable time in getting better; the former being subject to daily fits of ague, etc., etc.
Thursday, January 11, 1849.
The black native had made his escape during the night, whilst it was raining and blowing hard; we were at this time anch.o.r.ed about one and a half or two miles from Turtle Reef, and a distance of eight miles from Cape Bedford, the nearest part of the mainland; made search on the reef, but saw no marks of him; a strong current was making towards Cape Bedford, and he might have taken that direction. Two large sharks were seen about the s.h.i.+p this morning; it is our impression the man can never have reached the land; the black was seen by Parker, on deck, at two A.M., whilst it was thundering, lightning, and raining, but was never seen afterwards.
EXTRACT
From the private log of T. BECKFORD SIMPSON, master of the brig Freak,*
giving an account of her proceedings when employed in searching for the papers, etc., connected with the late Mr. Kennedy's exploring party.
(*Footnote. Under contract with the Colonial Government to call (on her way to Port Essington) at Shelburne Bay and Escape River, to ascertain, if possible, the fate of the three men left at the former place, and recover the papers of Mr. Kennedy secreted by Jackey-Jackey, who went in the Freak to point out the localities.)
Wednesday, May 2, 1849.
In the night fresh breezes from North-East with rain; at daylight weighed and made sail, the Harbinger in company; shaped a course to pa.s.s between Cape Direction and the low sandy island which lies off it; pa.s.sed close to the latter; I observed the reef extending from the North-East end further than laid down on the chart; after pa.s.sing it, and giving Cape Direction a good berth, shaped a course for Restoration Island. At 9 A.M.
dense ma.s.ses of rain-clouds to the east and north-east. The weather became thick and rainy, shortened sail to the topsails. At 10.30 A.M., the weather clearing a little, saw Restoration and Cape Weymouth; when close to the former we had heavy squalls with rain, which prevented our seeing the land; hove-to with the vessel's head to the North-East; shortly after the weather clearing a little so as to enable us to see the land, bore up and stood in for Weymouth Bay. The rain now descended in torrents, lowered topsails on the cap, feeling our way cautiously with the lead; finding the water shoaling, anch.o.r.ed in twelve fathoms; at 0.30 P.M., the weather clearing a little, saw Restoration, bearing South-South-East 1/2 East, and a small island distant about a mile west.
At 3.30 P.M. fine, and finding we were a long distance out, weighed and ran in under the jib, the Harbinger following our example; as we approached the bottom of the bay the water shoaled gradually, and when the haze lifted Jackey pointed out the hill at the foot of which was the camp where Mr. Kennedy had left eight of the party, and from whence Carron and G.o.ddard had been rescued. We stood into five fathoms, and at 5 P.M. anch.o.r.ed about 1 1/2 miles from the sh.o.r.e; the Harbinger brought up close to us. Made up my mind to visit the camp in the morning, and endeavour to find if there were any papers which might have been left and not destroyed.
Thursday, May 3.
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