No 45 Goolwa

The Goolwa I am going to tell you about was the youthful Goolwa, full of ambitious dreams, of boundless vitality, of great hopes— the Goolwa which was the centre of the Murray trade, and might have been the capital of South Australia.

When you look at Goolwa today you find it hard to imagine that once it was the rival of the Adelaide plains as a site for the metropolis. But it was, and a powerful one, too. You see, it was on the Murray, navigable for 2,000 miles, and its supporters had visions of a river covered with shipping once they found the secret of negotiating the Murray Mouth. They have been trying ever since the year one of South Australia to wrest that secret from the sea, but they haven't done so yet. All sorts of schemes have been mooted to overcome the natural sand barrier which prevents access from the ocean, and, although ships have entered on occasions, the Murray Mouth, in the main, has defied all efforts to open it.

Now the moment you begin to talk about this scheme you are in for trouble. I think almost every man in Goolwa, Port Elliot, and Victor Harbour has his own pet idea of surmounting the difficulty, and each and every one is convinced that the day will come when one of those three towns will be the Murray port. So they keep on worrying the Government about it. and the Government just plays one town off against the other, and then goes to sleep, secure in the knowledge that, whatever the future may have in store for this scheme, there is no need to worry about it for another century or two.

Tragedy Of Judge Jeffcott

South Australia was not quite a year old when the young colony was shaken by news of a great tragedy at Goolwa. This was the drowning of Sir John Jeffcott, the first judge. Incidentally it may be remarked that when the province was founded this appointment of Jeffcott's was the only one made by the Colonial Office.

You see, in the interim between the proclamation by Governor Hindmarsh and the tragedy mentioned a great deal of bickering had developed in Adelaide abaut the site of the capital. Most of us know that Hindmarsh and Light were at loggerheads over the matter, but not so many know there was an influential section of the community who, without knowing very much about the business, contended that the Murray Mouth (i.e. somewhere in the vicinity of Goolwa) was a better place to establish the capital. The persistent advocacy of the mouth of the Murray worried the Governor. Eventually a party was organised to examine Lake Alexandrina, and to trace its outlet to the sea, with a view to settling the dispute.

This party comprised Judge Jeffcott; Captain Blenkinsop, who owned a whaling station at Encounter Bay, and five seamen. They swept down the river in a boat until they reached the month. There the frail craft capsized in the turbulent water, and the whole party were thrown into the sea. Jeffcott, Blenkinsop, and two sailors were drowned. This finally settled the mouth of the Murray as a candidate for metropolitan honors.

Henry Jickling

Now I want you to make the acquaintance of one of the strangest characters of early South Australian— Henry Jickling. He had nothing to do with Goolwa, it is true.But it is also true that if it had not been for the unhappy termination of the expedition I have just told you about, he would probably have remained historically obscure for all time. As it was the death of Jeffcott left the colony without a judge. Judge Cooper was appointed to the vacancy. But he was in England, and in those days it took months to cover the 12,000 odd miles separating the new land from the old. So a temporary judge had to be found.The choice fell on Jickling, who was a barrister with an uncertain practise.

Jickling was an oddity. He was very near-sighted, and walked with a peculiar gait, reminiscent of our forgotten friend, Springheeled Jack. His dress was as peculiar as his walk. He always wore shoes and white stockings, with trousers which barely reached to bis ankles. His coat was of a peculiar cut, more resembling a robe. The cuffs never came near his wrists, and, when he was in court, his gown terminated just above his knees. Added to this was his habit of wearing large, green glasses, of great magnifying power, and peering closely into the faces of those with whom he spoke. But, though eccentric, he was of a kind disposition.

Jickling was so near-sighted that he had difficulty in finding his way about the city, for in those days the streets were almost in a state of nature. It is recorded that on one occasion he was walking along Currie street, when he stopped to enquire of a pedestrian— "Can you tell me, please, the way into Hindley street?" The question produced no reply. "Can you tell me," he repeated in a louder tone, "the way to Hindley street?" Still the figure treated him with indifference.

Jickling lost his temper and snapped— "Man, I think you might return a civil answer to a civil question," and he stamped off indignantly, unconscious that he had been addressing one of the numerous tree stumps which at that period stood on the centre of the footpaths of the chief streets of the capital. I feel now that you will forgive me for introducing Mr Jickling.

Might Have Been The Capital

It is no joke fixing the site of the capital city of a new colony. Light found that out. So did Hindmarsh. I have already told you that in the first year of South Australia almost everybody in the province had his own ideas on the subject — and, of course, they were different from everybody else's. First, there was the Murray mouth. Then there was Encounter Bay. Then Port Lincoln. Then Port Adelaide. Then Adelaide. We, who have inherited the fait accompli, sit back calmly in our easy chairs, a decanter at our elbow, and the cigar smoke curling lazily towards the open window, and we say — "Light was quite right." Probably, after a lapse of ninety years, we would have said the same thing if he had fixed it anywhere else. Personally, I have never ceased regretting that Port Lincoln was discarded.

But let me tell you why Light stood '"four square" against Goolwa and Encounter Bay. I will give you his own words: —

"As Encounter Bay and Lake Alexandrina had been talked of (as the site for the capital) in England, I never could fancy for one moment that any navigable entrance from the sea into the lake could possibly exist, and, looking at Flinders's chart, and, considering the exposed situation of the coast, open to the whole Southern Ocean, great danger must always attend approaching it with the fresh breezes. However, the very circumstance of so large a lake being there was a convincing proof to me that the Murray could not have a passage sufficiently deep and wide to discharge its water into the sea. These ideas I mentioned In England, and often during the passage out, but when I saw the sandy shore to the eastward of Encounter Bay from the Rapid ... I was more than convinced that no good and accessible harbor could exist contrary to the laws of Nature. Deep and fine harbors, with good entrance on the sea coast, are only found where the shore is high, hard, or rocky; in other cases such harbors must be in large rivers or gulfs. Sand alone can never preserve a clear channel against the scud of the sea, and particularly such as must be thrown on the coast above Encounter Bay."

So that is why Goolwa and Victor Harbour "went west" as candidates for the seat of Government in South Australia. And it was because Jeffcott refused to accept this view that he went off to Goolwa to see things for himself — and never came back.

First Railway In Australia

A fact that will probably surprise a good many people is that to Goolwa (and Port Elliot) belongs the honor of having the first railway in the Commonwealth — only it wasn't a Commonwealth then, just a collection of small and more or less independent colonies whose chief amusement seems to have been throwing mud at each other through the medium of their local news sheets. It was in 1854 that the Goolwa to Elliot section of the horse railway began operating, and a quaint, bone shaking affair it was. When I was looking at a photograph of it the other day the thought flashed into my mind that it must have suggested the tank of Great War days. A journey by that strange vehicle was an ordeal in endurance, though our forefathers and foremothers thought it a capital affair. The track was rough, and mostly ran through dense scrub. It was drawn by a miserable-looking horse. It raised clouds of dust, and the passenger who happened to have boarded it at the starting point in a neat black dress generally arrived at, her destination looking as though she had been sleeping for a week in a flour mill. She felt like it, too. for the seats were hard and uncomfortable, and left bruises where they ought not to have been.

In 1864 this line was extended to Victor Harbour, and in 1869 the whole was linked up with Strathalbyn. This extraordinary railway, of course, no longer exists. It went the way of all primitive things when the steam railway from the capital was taken over the hills to Victor. But while it lasted it was productive of more controversy than a meeting of the League of Nations. It was a Government job, and apparently was run on a scale which the taxpayers of the day regarded as altogether too lavish. At all events, it was the subject of a courtmartial by a Royal Commission. Recently my friend the archivist showed me a bulky volume containing over 100 pages of printed matter dealing with this enquiry.

"Would you like to read it?" he enquired guilelessly.

"No," I answered decisively, "but if anybody else does I'll tell them where they can see it."

The reports of Royal Commissions is hardly the type of fiction which appeals to me.

Lieutenant Pullen

In the early days Goolwa was known as Port Pullen. This was out of compliment to a gentleman of whom we remember very little these days, but who, in the infant life of the province, played a valuable and interesting role. All the same, I am not sorry that the native name of Goolwa (the elbow) was eventually substituted for Pullen.

The native tongue was soft and musical, and full of poetry. Why, I wonder, were not the quaint legends of the blacks collected before the race was wiped out. They had some marvellous folk tales— tales of which the bulk of whites are entirely ignorant, and which, like the language itself, were melodious and unique.

[William] J. S. Pullen, Lieutenant, R.N., was a surveyor under Light. His chief claim to fame from a South Australian point of view is that he was the man who discovered Port Adelaide, where he berthed on September 28, 1836. His connection with Goolwa began when he was dispatched there to explore the mouth of the Murray, and it was from this circumstance that his name was given to the southern port. His next job was to survey Lake Alexandrina. He was preparing for this task at Encounter Bay when he lost his whole outfit by fire — his money, his instruments, his papers, and most of his clothes. To repair this loss — as much of it as he could — he had to tramp over eighty miles to the city. Pullen surveyed a considerable part of the southern coast, and on his return to England had a distinguished career, retiring with the rank of admiral. He died in 1887.

Fooling With The Murray

Has it ever occurred to you to ask of what use is the Murray to South Australia? We have spent millions in locking it to assist navigation. But where is the navigation? Today there is not a vessel trading on its broad waters within our boundaries, except an occasional Government vessel carrying supplies to some obscure camp. There was more activity on the river ever eighty years ago, when Governor Young threw himself so enthusiastically into the task of Murray development, and dreamt of establishing a "New Orleans of the Australian Mississippi" at Encounter Bay.

True, we water a few paltry thousand or so acres of fruit country. But that is not making use of our only real river. Don't imagine I am writing against irrigation I want to see more of it. But I want, too, to see some adequate return for the big lump of interest we hand out yearly for these Murray works— and I'll be hanged if I can. The fact is, that we are neither using the river for shipping, nor adequately developing its contiguous country by irrigation. As I see the position, we are paying out too much money, and getting little or no return.

Motor competition and the Arbitration Court between them have settled the river as a navigation proposition. The lorries are expeditious and convenient. They pick wool up at the station and deliver it in the sale room. Ships can't do that, so they've got to rot on the river banks. They might have stood a chance if they had been able to reduce their "overhead," but the Arbitration Court wouldn't let them do that. For instance, ships must carry a skipper and an engineer. The same man is not allowed to be both. Each must receive £50 per month. There you have this explanation - £100 a month for two officers, and all the rest of the crew similarly bound as to wages and duties.

Father Of The River

Sir Henry Young was the greatest friend the Murray ever had. He was, in effect, the father of the river. From 1849 onward he threw himself heart and soul into the task of developing it as a shipping artery. It was through his advocacy that the Government of the day offered £2,000 each for the first and second iron steamers to navigate the river from Goolwa to the Darling.

And his Excellency had a fine supporter in Captain Cadell.

Feat In A Canvas Boat

This Captain Francis Cadell had an adventurous career, and a sad end. His first connection with the Murray was in the earliest fifties. One day in Melbourne he bought a canvas boat, a flimsy thing not unlike the canoes one sees youngsters playing with at the seaside. He loaded this on to a pack horse, and set off towards the Upper Murray. On reaching Swan Hill station he met four diggers returning from the Victorian goldfields. The full party of five travelled down the river on a 1,300-mile trek in the crazy cockleshell, and so reached Lake Victoria. It was this journey which convinced Cadell that the Murray was navigable. Thereafter he became an enthusiastic advocate of its development for such a purpose, provided the boats were built with shallow draughts.

It was this trip of Cadell's which brought into existence the Murray Steam Navigation Company [see 1872 commemorative postage stamps], who built the Lady Augusta (named after the Governor's wife). When she was placed in commisison on the river, Cadell was given the command.

There was a keen race between Cadell and William Randell to be the first to navigate the river in a steamer. Randell did it first. He built his boat [Mary Ann] at Mannum, and on February 19, 1853, took her up the river as far as Maiden's Point (Echuca). A he was returning he met the Lady Augusta going up, with Cadell and the Governor (Sir Henry Young) aboard.

Rushing The Murray Mouth

But it was Cadell who accomplished the feat of rushing the Murray Mouth. This was on August 16, 1853. The Lady Augusta was anchored at Port Elliot, and towards the afternoon proceeded to the entrance to the river. She anchored there just outside the breakers, and about 3 p.m. Cadell successfully took her through. Mr. O. J. S. Harding, of Port Elliot, who combines the hobbies of collecting local history and books on early Australia, has a complete list of the crew and passengers of the ship on that occasion. Incidentally. I am indebted to Mr. Harding for a considerable amount of information, much of it previously unpublished, concerning Goolwa, Elliot, and Victor.

Visions of a river crowded with shipping, Goolwa as a busy commercial port, were born out of Cadell's feat. The town went mad. There were lunches and banquets, and the ceremony of christening the barge Eureka, specially built at Goolwa to accompany the Lady Augusta up the stream.

This Murray mouth has all along been the bugbear to Murray navigation. The sands are always shifting. Nothing will ever stay put. It is one of the most puzzling pieces of sea engineering around the Australian coast. I think the first man who entered from the sea was Lieutenant Pullen in 1841. He crossed it in the cutter Waterwitch, which was drawing 6 ft. of water at the time. This is one of the curious problems about the entrance. You might negotiate it a dozen times without mishap. Then, when you least expect it, you are liable to be up-ended and find yourself and all your belongings floundering in a mass of water and floating sand.

Queen Of The South

For instance, take the case of the Queen of the South. This was a boat specially built to win a bonus of £10,000 offered by the Government for a steamer that would safely negotiate the entrance for a period of twelve months. The Queen of the South crossed the bar so many times that people began to think the job was easy after all, and the owners of the ship reckoned that the £10,000 was as good as in their pockets. But a fortnight before the year expired the Queen of the South was piled up on a sand bank—and that was the end of schemesfor crossing the bar.

Goolwa As A Port

But if all efforts to solve the problem of the entrance failed, that did not prevent Goolwa enjoying a big prosperity as the terminus of the river-borne trade. In 1878 steamers were so thick on the Murray that they were berthed three deep for the entire length of the wharf. The townfairly hummed with business. Practically all the wool between Goolwa and the Darling came down the river. And when the boats went up-stream they carried full cargoes of supplies for the stations.

Where is all this trade now? Gone — absolutely. Why? That is an answer I will leave to you. If I start dipping into reasons I might get mad. All I will ask is, what sort of commentary on modern statesmanship is it that today not a single ship is in commission, and that the big river, which half a century ago throbbed with life, is almost as dead today as when Governor Young began his enthusiastic crusade to make it the Mississippi of Australia?

In 1854 the Lady Augusta reached within twenty miles of Albury, and the following year Captain George Johnston reached that town in a steamer called Albury. By 1857 there were eight steamers and seven barges regularly trading on the river— Lady Augusta, Albury, Gundagai, Melbourne, Gomini, Moolgewanke, Leichardt, and Sturt. Incidentally, the first iron steamer ever built in South Australia was launched from the foundry at Goolwa. it was named the Jolly Miller.

Death Of Captain Cadell

I mentioned the tragic end of Captain Cadell. To mark his success in opening the Murray shipping industry, a special gold medal was struck in his honor by the South Australian authorities. Soon after this he was overwhelmed by a succession of unfortunate happenings. The first was the failure of the shipping company he had promoted to conduct the river trade. This catastrophe ruined him— and a number of others. He next embarked on several undertakings, commercial and pastoral, none of which succeeded. Finally he went on an expedition to the Malay Peninsula. There, while he was returning in June, 1879, to the Kei Islands by sea, his crew of natives mutinied and killed him.

Walked From Melbourne

In the Port Elliot article I made mention of an overland journey by Strangways and Hutchinson from Adelaide to Encounter Bay, when they brought the first vehicle into that region. After camping for some time with Captain Blenkinsop at his fishery at the Bay, they came on to Goolwa. Blenkinsop sent them two of his men from the Bay, with whom they went round to Goolwa by boat. Those two fellows came to Encounter Bay from Melbourne (Port Fairy), and they walked the whole way. They followed the coastline, and their only provisions was a bag of flour which they loaded on a pack-horse.

They were six weeks covering the distance. When they reached the Murray they were unable to cross, and were forced to retrace their steps as far as Lake Alexandrina. This they skirted for two days and a half before they found a narrow part, which they crossed on a raft constructed on the spot from pine trees. They were unable to take the horse over, and abandoned him. I record the incident as an example of the kind of travelling people were forced to do in the earliest times.

It is regretted that owing to the illness of our Special Representative, a break of three weeks in the publication of this feature is necessary. It is hoped to resume the series on May 25, when Yankalilla will be dealt with, followed by Aldinga and Noarlunga.

Next episode: Yankalilla

Images:

• Australia's first railway. Opened in 1854, it ran between Goolwa and Port Elliot. It was later extended to Port Victor and Strathalbyn.

• Fishing is the chief industry of Goolwa today. A big butterfish caught by Mr. J. Lundstrom.