5 April 1934

ABOUT THE MILLICENT DRAINS 

Slab Of South-eastern History

In October, 1863, the first portion of the great South-East scheme of draining was started under William Coulthard, who was then resident engineer under the Mount Gambier Road Board. The drain was less than 200 yards long, and barely lowered the surface of the Cootel Swamp. The water at its outlet emptied into the lower lands sur rounding Lake Frome. It was not much, but it was a start. 

In the early part of August, 1867, applications were called in the city papers for 100 men for 'the south-eastern drainage works.' They were selected and booked to leave Port Adelaide on the 19th of that month, but were delayed a few days. The contract with the owners of the s.s. Coorong was to deliver the men, stores, and working plant at the south end of Rivoli Bay, on the beach, for the sum of £300. 

There was no jetty at the port, which had been removed from the schedule soon after the opening of Port McDonnell in 1860. The steamer at that time ran fortnightly trips between Adelaide and Melbourne calling at Kingston, Robe, and McDonnell. 

It is said the steamer jeopardised her insurance by calling in at the disused port, but £300 was a tidy lump to add to the earnings of a trip. There being no jetty, the goods had to be carried ashore on the men's back from the ship's boats from where they struck bottom. The passengers had to wade to land, and got considerably wet in the operation. 

The men had no bedding, and it had to be landed from the steamer. Buckets of tea were provided by survey camps in the locality, and when partially dried the men dossed down on the sandhills in their clothes, and got what sleep they could. At daylight they were aroused by one of the party 'sooling' his greyhound after a mob of kangaroos, then plentiful. 

After breakfast the workers were drafted into three gangs, one of which had to cut a wharf into the Lake Frome swamp bank to accommodate some flat bottomed pontoons which were to convey part of the paraphernalia across the Lake to Narrow Neck. The other gangs went by bullock teams to Milne's and English's Gaps, where two cuttings had been made through the main range under contract by James McKenzie. The men were accommodated in stone shacks, tarpaulin covered, in batches, with a cook to attend to them. 

Unexpected difficulties were encountered. When the gaps were taken down to the level of the swamp the water would only trickle through until the rushes and edges were cut away on the course of the drain for half a mile or more. The engineers thought the water would have such a 'head' that it would scour out the gaps to the full depth and width to carry off the immense body of water overlying the back country. 

However, this and other difficulties were overcome, and in 1871, about four years after the real commencement of operations, the first reclaimed land was thrown open for selection, though it was found later that it was only partially drained. But the work was eventually completed, and probably represents the most remuneratively spent public money in the annals of South Australia.— 'Tanta Tyga,' Millicent. 

Chasing The Grey Mare 

In 1869, when I was only a small boy, and had my first two horses, a friend told me he had a grey mare running with a wild mob of horses, on Calca Station, West Coast, and that I could have her if I could get her. 

The horses were watering at the Yanera Waterhole. Several attempts had been made to yard them, but always in vain. 

One summer's day I started out with a blackboy to try and secure the grey mare. The country was thick mallee scrub, which reached close to the watering place. We tied our horses in the thick timber and waited. 

When, at length, the mob came, they drank until they seemed ready to burst. Then we showed ourselves, and they cleared off as hard as they could go. We followed their heels through thick mallee at the back of Calca Bluff, overgrown in places with wild vines, and only the tails of the horses immediately in front of us could be seen. 

I occasionally caught a glimpse of the grey mare I wanted, and I had discovered that she had a foal with her. The sweat was pouring off the horses in front of me, and I could see they were greatly distressed. Soon the mob commenced to split into twos and three. I let them go their own way. It was only the grey mare I wanted, and wherever she went I followed. 

At last, after a long and exhausting run, the foal caved in. I caught it, and put my whip around its neck, and thus the chase was ended, for the mother would not leave her foal, and I soon caught her. Being of a roving disposition, I decided to ride 240 miles, through pastoral country, sparsely occupied, and with my blackboy safely reached my destination. This was the first of many long journeys I have since done. — 'Unohoo,' Medindie.

Wanderlust

When a child of 11, I lived on the Campbell's Creek cattle run, near the old Talisker silver mines, a few miles from Cape Jervis. 

It was delightful to roam those rocky, wooded hills, follow the creek miles to the sea, sit perched on a rock watching the breakers rolling in. Sometimes I would lie under the big gums watching the myriad lovely birds in the branches, the ants working busily, the goannas under the bushes, or l would tickle the sleeping lizards with a stick. Once I saw a big goanna and a large snake fight. It was a hideous sight. 

One hot summer day I followed a cattle pad down a steep hill to where three creeks met in a swamp. As I ran I loosened a boulder which plunged ahead into the creek. I yelled for joy, but I was startled to hear a woman's scream. I scrambled to the side and looked over into a gully. I saw four strangers, women, looking up at me, and on the opposite rise four lines of clothes. 

One woman spoke to the others. 'It is S.M.J.,' using my full name; then to me, 'What are you doing so far from home?' 'Our flock of goats has wandered away, and I am looking for them; have you seen them?' I answered. They shook their heads. Then I enquired, 'Are you washing in the creek?' 'No, in the cave.' 'Cave?' I repeated. 'I've seen two caves, but they were not big enough for you to wash in.' 'Would you like to see this cave? Can you get down?' And she looked doubtfully at the steep hillside. 

At once I slithered down, regardless of damaged clothes. I saw by the saplings in the roof the chimney and the bunks cut in the hillside, that this was not a natural cave. The women good naturedly answered my numerous questions.  Some miners, years before, lived there, and dug four shafts hunting for silver ore. Yes, they washed there in summer, carrying the wash in a sack on their back. The boiler and tubs were put on a pole, and two women slid over the hills with them. —S.M.J.

Enforcing The Tribal Law

This is a tale of a breach of promise and of a settlement out of court — as the natives do it. It concerns several blacks who had pitched their camp at Ooldea, on the eastern edge of the Nullarbor Plain, and in particular one Spinifex Peter whose name is sufficient indication of the district he hails from, Peter's betrothed, Carrie, and Tony, the 'villain,' lurking in the background. 

Carrie had come of age, and was to be taken to wife by her fiance. She was only 14, Spinifex Peter idolised her, and so did Tony. The 'young lady' was not too sure that she cared sufficiently for her betrothed to allow him to become her husband, especially as she was worshipped by a dashing young cavalier of Tony's type. 

So Carrie instead of marrying Peter, ran away with Tony. Tony apparently had some misgivings. He made it known to all and sundry he met that Carrie was his sister. Of course, he was allowed to 'walkabout' with his sister although not with anybody else's. 

However, the elders of the tribe were sceptical; they had forgotten the meaning of romance. The romantic couple were eventually taken back to Ooldea for trial and sentence. The natives have very strict moral codes amongst themselves. Peter, and certain other gallants who had sided with him, were called to judgment by the elders. 

A fierce sun was beating down. There were only a few stunted trees to shed their scanty shade over the council. But there had been a violation of the sacred laws which were made long before the advent of the white man, and had been handed down from generation to generation. The trial must be held regardless of the scorching sun. The elders squatted in a circle. They had taken their places there by virtue of their years, and they realised their responsibility. 

Only the voice of the leader was heard, accompanied by low mutterings as the facts were stated. Occasionally heads were nodded, for these were men of few words. The accused needed not counsel to defend them. They did not even appear themselves. They realised their guilt and awaited punishment. Carrie's name scarcely entered the discussion. She was a woman. A husband had been chosen for her. The one responsible for the breaking of the law was Tony, and as there had been a revolutionary movement among the youth of the tribe in Tony's defence, these offenders must also be made an example of. So said the elders in their wisdom— and their word was law. 

After a short deliberation the council rose, their course of action made clear. The elders rushed for the spears of the accused. Unarmed, the guilty ones must take what was coming to them. But Tony's confederate, Billy, was quick. He sensed danger, and reached his weapons first. The fight, for such it had become, waxed fierce. 

Two of the elders dropped, speared by Billy. But his triumph was short-lived, for he himself fell, badly wounded. However, even in battle, these copper knights retained their chivalry. No spear must strike above the legs. Now it was Tony's turn, and either he could take to his heels or await his punishment like a man. He elected the latter course, and fell like a log with a crack from a waddy, after being thrice wounded with spears. The sentence had been carried out. 

The elders retired, leaving the wounded on the field. But not to die. These were hardy men, hardy almost beyond the conception of the whites. They plucked the broken shafts from their legs. They did not attempt to stanch the flow of blood. They applied red ochre to their wounds. In a few days they were able to move about again. But they had learnt their lesson that the laws are to be kept inviolate, and that punishment of offenders was swift and severe. As for Carrie, she will become Spinifex Peter's wife, as previously arranged.

Lessons In Language

I had just finished tying-in the refractory luxuriant shoot of a beautiful trailing yellow-flowered Allamanda climber from the tropical Brazilian jungle, and was dividing my attention between the mealy bug (Coccus Hesperidum) hiding in the heavily scented racemes of the tricolor Vanda orchid from Java and those in the armor coated fruits of the delicious Monstera deliciosa from Mexico, when the stone house door in the old Anlaby Gardens was unceremoniously opened with a bang.

A cold blast from a wintry wind blew in, disturbingly rattling the brilliant colored foliage of Orotons and Caladiums; ruffling the delicate fronds of the finest Adiantums, hardier Davallias, and bifurcated and tesselated Nephrolepis; roughly swaying the quaint insect-catching and 'eating' pitchers of Nepenthes from Borneo; and causing the sensitive 'sleeping' leaves of Mimosa pudica to droop and fold up as if night had come. 

'Shut that door!' I commanded sharply. Looking round I saw Fred, one of the out-door hands, evidently perturbed and quite excited. 'What the matter now? Has the boiler busted?' I asked testily. 'Busted be blowed!' returned Fred brusquely. Jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the potting shed he said:— 'I've gotta furrin' ole bloke out theer an' 'ee's dead set on seein' 'ze lavartoria. an' I wanta know which 'ouse it's in. 'Ee also wants 'akwa poorer' (aquapura). 'Oh! he wants to wash off the dust of travel, Fred. Show him the lavatory and give him a clean towel,' I answered. 'Blorst 'im!' said Fred with righteous indignation. 'Why don't 'ee say wot 'ee mean an' talk Hinglish like hus.' 'Never mind,' I consoled Fred. 'There'll be in a tip in this,' and sure enough there was.'— 'Lingo.'