24 Nov 1932

AN OLD TIME BUSH MYSTERY

Disappearance Of Slater And Osborne

Kangaroo Island can provide more stories of the early days than any other tract of country twice its size. The incidents related below happened in 1836, nearly two months before Governor Hindmarsh proclaimed South Australia under the old gum tree at Glenelg. The mystery has never been cleared up.

Old-Time Bush Tragedy.

— In the early days the dense scrub of Kangaroo Island claimed several victims. But one incident which gave rise to much speculation was the disappearance of Dr. Slater and his friend, Osborne. These two men came to South Australia in the Africaine on November 1, 1836. They were so fascinated by the appearance of Kangaroo Island [and influenced by the glowing published account of Sutherland in 1831] that they persuaded Captain Duff to land them and four companions, Robert Fisher, Charles Nantes, Baggs, and Warner, somewhere near Cape Borda, probably at Merrilles Landing. Their intention was to walk the north coast, and rejoin the ship at Nepean Bay.

The men carried provisions to last only two days, and firearms with which to procure fresh food. Unexpected difficulties were encountered. The country was rough. The party soon found themselves in difficulties. On the sixth day (Sunday) they reached Mirrell's Lagoon, and heard the report of a gun, probably fired from the Africaine. Osborne and Slater by now were both in a weak condition. They refused to go any further, so their companions left them, intending to send back assistance. On Thursday, the tenth day, the four who had continued on sighted Nepean Bay. But Nantes was now ill, and was left behind to be rescued later.

When the three survivors reached Kingscote they learnt that the settlers had become so alarmed at their non-appearance and search parties of black women and sealers had been dispatched to look for them. Now further parties were sent out to bring in Slater and Osborne. George Bates and 'Governor' Whalley, well known old-timers, ran the tracks back.

They announced they had found Osborne's body covered with a few bushes, and then tracked Dr. Slater making for Flour Cask Bay, where he evidently thought the Africaine would anchor. They followed the footprints along the beach to the Salt Lake, and here lost the tracks on the rocks. The statement, however, was never verified. The passengers on the Africaine were not satisfied. Some suspected the two friends met with foul play.

Nearly thirty years later (1865) Henry Bates, then a young man of 21, were shearing at Hog Bay River for Mr. Tapley, president of the Marine Board. He went to the mainland to be paid, and was asked if, during subsequent snaring at Mount Thisby, he would look for the skeleton of a man named Pennington, who had been lost in this vicinity in 1855.

One evening he set out intending to walk to Flour Cask Bay. He had gone about half a mile west from Pennington Bay, when he noticed something that looked like an old boot about 100 ft. up the cliff. He scrambled up. On top of the rock was a small puddle of salt water, and there Bates found an old rusted gun. He scraped among the salt and found some shot and a shot belt. Noticing in the angle of the cliff a small gulch he decided to search the weeds, which were thick. He found the skeleton of a man, perfect except for a missing rib. Bates decided that the skeleton could not be that of Pennington, who had a double barrel gun, whereas this man's gun was a single-barrel.

A few weeks later a boat sailed into Pelican Lagoon. On board were Mr. Kyffin Thomas and Inspector Tolmer. While yarning round the fire that night Bates told them of his discovery, and next day showed them where the skeleton lay. Measurements were taken, and it was decided that the skeleton must be that of Dr. Slater, who measured 5 ft. 8 in., and not Pennington, who measured 6 ft. — Wynnis J. Hughes, Wisanger.

Game Hunting By The Blacks.

— Shortly after the white man settled in Australia native game began to increase. The early explorers do not record anything like the immense mobs of kangaroos that were later rounded up and slain. Prior to the coming of the whites, the native fauna was kept in check by the aborigines. But when the blacks became partly dependent on the settlers, and too lazy to hunt for themselves, the game, in many places, increased almost beyond the carrying capacity of the country, and the squatters found it necessary to kill it off periodically.

With waterfowl it was different. According to the oldest blacks, waterfowl was much more plentiful than it has ever been since, though the natives used to account for vast numbers wherever they could stretch nets across creeks from tree to tree. The method was clever, yet simple.

When the Murray was about half flood and all the backwater creeks had water in them, the natives would choose a place where two trees were on opposite banks of a creek. They would stretch a large net across. It would reach sometimes as high as 25 feet. A native would then hide behind a tree with boomerang handy, Another native would remain by the net. The rest would go to the swamps in the vicinity, some launching bark canoes -and others walking round the edge. They would frighten the ducks off the swamps.

Ducks, when flying from one place to another, always follow the course of a stream if there is one. Being in fear of their enemy, the hawk, they keep just above the trees. The native with the boomerang, waiting and watching, saw them coming, and, when the position was right, he hurled the boomerang high in the air, at the same time uttering a shrill whistle in exact imitation of a hawk.

The ducks dived for the creek to fly along under the shelter of the gums, and flew into the net. The native at the net immediately pulled the ropes and the bottom net came up, forming a bag from which very few birds escaped. — 'M.P.,' Brighton.

Willy Wagtail Goes A-Voyaging.

— Many years ago, when the coastal steamer Jessie Darling was on the way from Franklin Harbor to Wallaroo a passenger noticed about two miles from the harbor, a small bird following astern at a distance of about 15 feet —a willy wagtail.

Whether it had left the land at the same time as the boat, or had been on its way across the gulf and had decided to accompany the vessel, could not be determined. Occasionally, with a quick spurt, it would catch up and rest for a minute on the iron deck rail; but it was timid, for, although there was a fairly strong head wind, it did not hesitate to take wing again on the approach of any of the crew.

It also found its hold on the smooth rail rather precarious. It never rested more than a minute at a time, and appeared to be a strong flyer. Though the rests on the rail were brief, they were fairly frequent, and it is doubtful if he would have accomplished the unbroken flight.

When the Wallaroo jetty was about a quarter of a mile off, the little fellow, without a good-bye cheep or note of farewell, flew on towards the town ship, whence he could take his bearings before entering the wilds.

His kind are credited by the natives with being mischievous chatterboxes, gossips, and tale-bearers, not to be trusted.

The hawk, though a solitary bird, is probably the most widely scattered of all the bird family. Take a pair of powerful binoculars, lie down on your lawn on a bright day, and search the sky overhead. It is probable that you will find one, perhaps more, of the hawk family, cruising, about slowly in the cold air, thousands of feet up. In Central Australia it is a certainty that you would. There they are, and their black, piercing eyes miss nothing in the way of dead or dying stock on the world below them. If hungry, they will drop, vulture-like, with meteoric speed, to the feast. — 'M.P., Brighton.

Thinning Out The Kangaroos.

— About 50 years ago kangaroos were so numerous on Fowler's Bay Station, then one of the largest runs in South Australia, that means had to be devised for their destruction.

The overseer of the sub-station, Penong, James Locke Higginis, suggested to the 'Poonarie' (big boss), George Wright Murray, the idea of building yards, with wings about a mile long.

A yard was built on the division fence of the Chance and Athenna paddocks. The dividing fences were made of brush, and the yard of logs about nine feet high and circular shaped. The dividing fence was topped so that kangaroos could not hop over. Wings were run out on each side. Subsequently several of these yards were made on the Penong end of the run.

When the first yard was completed a drive was organised by Mr. Higgins, with a number of the station hands and a mob of blacks. The whites were mounted, and the blacks afoot. To the vocal strains of 'John Peel,' 'We'll All Go Hunting Today,' and the war-cry of the niggers, the scared 'roos hopped along to their doom.

The result of the first drive was about 1,200. Subsequently, in a yard named Chinnamooda, a few miles south-west of where the Koonabba Mission Station is now situated, a mob of over 1,700 was run in and killed. The Government was then paying threepence a scalp, in certain districts. There were five yards built, besides the two named, one north of Bookabie, known as Cudla - one north-west of Penong, now Mondabella, and another north of Penong, named Nallia. In a few months thousands of kangaroos were slain in those yards.

Still the pests seemed as thick as ever. Mr. Murray made a contract with a Russian Fin, 'Big Bill,' to clear the run of kangaroos. He was to have the yards at £50 per annum. If he brought in 15,000 scalps the first year he was to have the yards free. Bill got a mob of blacks together and went down as far as Naddia, a native soak, about five or six miles west of Denial Bay, to where a point runs out into Tourville Bay. Here there were hordes of 'roos.' This was early in October, 1887.

He and his blacks hunted at that point, and at the Athenna yards, until a week before Christmas. When he came up to Yalata for the annual race meeting, he had a load of scalps, which were counted and burnt by the Vermin Inspector (Clarence Melvile) and Mr. Murray. The number was over 16,000. Big Bill got the use of the yards for nothing. The following year Jim Riddle came in the district to hunt for skins, as they were then fetching a big price per dozen— bucks up to £5. Later other hunters came, amongst them the Kent brothers, the best rifle shots the coast has ever seen. — G. Penon, Penong.

Sutton's Sovereigns.

— In a recent issue of 'The Chronicle' the story was given of the finding of a bag of sovereigns in the South-East. This has moved Mr. C. M. Fowles, of the Irrigation Department, to give his version of the affair, and as he was the young man who made the find, he ought to know all about it.

'The incident,' he says, occurred on March 26, 1908. I was spending my holidays in the South-East, and had cycled to Nelson the previous day. After lunch I left on the return trip, and had not travelled far when an open buggy, drawn by a spanking pair in tandem, dashed by, bouncing over the uneven surface of the unmade road, with its two occupants, unknown to me, who had lunched at an adjoining table at the hotel.

Near the border, I saw lying ahead of me a small handbag, and, on dismounting, found it contained a linen bag, which, to my dismay, held five smaller bags filled with sovereigns— 480 in all. I realised that the bag had been jolted from the buggy. Attempts to carry the weighted bag on my bicycle were unsuccessful, hence the money was distributed amongst my several pockets.

As I approached Mount Gambier and the occupiers of the buggy whom I had expected to see returning every moment with even greater dash, had not come into sight, a course of action had to be decided upon. The old proverb, 'Honesty is the best policy,' blazed ahead of me in letters big and bold, and guided me to the National Bank.

The day was then late and the bank closed. Rapping on the private door was of no avail, and as I again reached the street, I saw Mr. J. M. Helpman, whom I recognised as one of the occupants of the buggy. The recognition was mutual. He enquired if I had found any money and explained the position, after which I accompanied him to the office of his firm, A. E. Smith & Co. I handed over the gold and received a receipt for it as the property of Mr. F. Sutton.

The find was reported in the local Adelaide, and Melbourne press on the following day, and that evening I again visited the stock firm's office, where I met Mr. Sutton and received as a memento of the incident a gold albert, which I still treasure. A monetary reward was not offered as stated or desired. We then adjourned to a nearby hotel and drank to each other 'Good luck.'

The incident had its sequel. A few days later I sent my baggage to Naracoorte and took train with my bicycle to Beachport. From there I cycled the intervening thirty miles or thereabouts to Robe against a head wind, so strong that my starched collar was converted into a wet rag, and I was glad to spend the next day quietly at that resort to free my limbs from their stiffness.

I sat on the form in the bar of the old hostelry, long since replaced by the present modern building, and chatted with the publican. Presently in came the driver of the Royal mail between Kingston and Robe, and over his glass commented on a few items of local interest.

He then said to the publican, 'Did you read of the finding of a bag of gold near Mount Gambier?' The usual comments followed as to the good fortune of the owner, and the mailman then commented, 'I wonder what reward the finder got?'

I put down my paper, walked over to the two men at the bar, and, raising the chain suspended from the pockets of my waist coat, stated, 'This is what he got.' To this day I can visualise the amazed stare of those two men as they gazed first at me and then at each other. The long silence was broken with a hearty, 'Well, then, have a drink,' from the publican, and over the drink —and another — the incident was again recounted.

On my return to the city I was frequently stopped in the street and tendered advice by well-meaning people as to what they would have done with the money had they been in my place.