7 June 1934

SKIRMISHES WITH THE NATIVES 

Adventures On The Overland Tracks

After Hawdon had proved the practicability for cattle of the overland route from the eastern States early in 1838, an exodus set in from the over-stocked eastern pastures to the new grasslands being thrown open by discovery in this State. 

By the close of the year, at least seven parties were on the road or preparing to set out with herds of various sizes, and in December the 'Register' jubilantly announced that before another six months were out the livestock of the settlement would be increased by 4,000 cattle and 20,000 sheep. 

Hawdon was arranging to bring another herd. Eyre was planning to pioneer the route with sheep. Sturt, MacLeod, and Macpherson, Lieutenant Field, late of the Rapid, and Captain Hart, late of the Hope, were all entering into the new venture. From Van Diemen's Land, Mr. S. Bryan contem plated shipping 10,000 sheep, and several other colonists had gone to Launceston to make their own arrangements. 

By the middle of the following year larger herds were being collected for the spring. Messrs. Finnis, Hampden, and Dutton arranged to bring in 50,000 sheep and 7,000 cattle, and in October came the news that Finnis was on the road with the cattle and the first flock of 20,000 sheep. So many thousand hooves made a track across the south-eastern corner of the continent which the merest tenderfoot could follow. 

But as the risk of getting lost and the peril of thirst diminished, the danger from the natives grew. The first parties had had to take their chance as regards the track and the water, but they avoided friction with the blacks, and the tribes for their part were prepared to let them pass. 

Later, however, the natives discovered that the strange animals passing through their hunting grounds were edible, and wild game possibly began to get scarce near the route. Perhaps later parties were not as careful in their dealings with them as the earlier ones had been. In any case, in 1839, the natives became a definite menace all along the track. 

On December 29, 1838, a Mr. Wetheral set out with a party of 12 men and 979 cattle. On January 15, 1839, as he proceeded down the Goulburn, he noticed the blacks hovering round in considerable numbers, but they did not approach the drays. Next day several blacks came up and appeared very friendly, but they left again in about half an hour and that evening attacked the cattle, spearing several of them and one horse. 

Wetheral eventually camped at the junction of the Goulburn and the Hume (Murray) with ten of his men, the other two being away after cattle that the blacks had dispersed. 

On the morning of January 22, the blacks showed themselves in great numbers on the opposite bank of the river. They were perfectly quiet until he began to move the drays, when they began to howl and shake their spears. Wetheral rode to the river, which was at that point about 120 yards wide, with three horsemen, and made peaceful signs to them. In return, however, they received a shower of spears, some of which passed within a few inches of them, one of them hitting a stock man's hat. 

Wetheral immediately ordered the cattle to be taken off the river bank and put on Hawdon's track. As they were crossing to it, however, about 500 blacks came up and began to shout and poise their spears. The horsemen on both sides of the cattle galloped straight at them, at which they turned and ran for the river. But when they reached it, the horsemen were so near that they all threw down their spears, to the number of nearly 1,000. Wetheral and his men gathered up and burned some 30 armfuls of weapons. On their side, they fired a few shots, but little damage was done. 

In the following October and November a much more determined stand, involving several of the overland parties, was made on the Rufus. On October 21 the blacks drove off about 300 sheep belonging to Mr. Snodgrass, which had just crossed the river. Mr. Templar, who was in charge of the flock, went for assistance. He then followed the natives, and succeeded without much difficulty in recovering 250 of the sheep. They were placed in charge of a Mr. Langhorne, who had also just crossed with his herd. 

Shortly afterwards, however, about 200 blacks advanced on Langhorne's party. They were warned to keep away and some shots were fired over their heads to frighten them, but without effect. The party was therefore obliged to fire a few shots in self-defence, as a result of which some of the blacks were wounded, but none killed. Mr. Fletcher then mounted a horse and charged them. They fled before him, but rallied again soon afterwards. It was not till he had charged them a second time that the party was allowed to collect its sheep and proceed in peace. 

A week later, on October 28, Mr. MacLeod camped on the Murray. He had left Adelaide some days before with supplies for the overland party led by Mr. Finnis. On the morning of the 29th, he and another man, Flood, began to advance again, when they ran into an ambush of blacks who, rising from behind long grass and trees in considerable numbers, attacked them in a most determined manner. 

Unfortunately the whites had very few firearms, and those they had were mostly ineffective. After about half an hour's sharp firing which the natives with stood very well, the defenders drove them from the drays into the river, but had it not been for one or two well told shots the result would probably have been very different. Two of the men were struck by spears, but not seriously injured. MacLeod was deeply chagrined at the lack of firearms, and the general weakness of the party, since his intentions of reaching the Darling early in November was frustrated. 

Throughout the 29th and the following day the natives were gathering strongly, and he did not feel justified in risking the lives of his men and the property in the drays with such inadequate means of defence. He therefore was compelled to fall back five days' journey from where he had camped on October 28. In making this decision he was probably influenced by the information, received the day before he was attacked, that the overseer of a herd belonging to MacKinnon had been murdered in cold blood about seven miles further on from the place where ne was ambushed. The result of these disturbances was that a posse of police left Adelaide on November 2 under Superintendent Inman, and for a time restored order in the district.— 'Kestril.'

Power Of Fear

When the local amateur dramatic company, in a country town, was about to present a 'thriller,' the local parson was given the part of the villain. 

During the performance, while the villain was supposed to be strangling the heroine, the hero had to rush in and shoot him. According to the script of the play, the villain then was supposed to throw up his arms and gasp dramatically, "Oh, hell, I'm shot!" 

However, the parson, claiming that such language was not in keeping with his calling, decided to substitute the words, "My goodness, I'm shot!" 

All went well until the night of the performance, when a practical joker pushed a ripe mulberry down the barrel of the hero's gun. The district hall was crowded, and the villain, wearing a dress suit, was strangling the heroine, when the hero rushed in and fired his revolver. Up went the villain's arms as he gasped, "My goodness, I'm shot!" Then, seeing the red stain from the mulberry on his white shirt front, and evidently taking it for blood, he turned to the audience, and with a face as white as a sheet, exclaimed, "By hell, I AM shot!" — 'Kangoroo.'

Stylish Aborigines

Early residents of Broken Hill, round about 1886, witnessed the novel sight of four stylishly-dressed Aborigines two men and two women — driving down Argent street one day in a buckboard drawn by four spanking horses. 

It is doubtful whether a better pilot of a four-in-hand team than the aborigine in the driver's seat has ever been seen on the Barrier. The women were dressed in the latest city fashions and the men wore the latest cut suits and 'hard-hitters.'  They had come in from Mount Gipps Station, a few miles out to attend Broken Hill's first race meeting, and after 'doing' Argent street— which was then the only street in the embryo Silver City— they drove out to the rough and-ready racecourse a mile out of the town, and at once made themselves at home with the motley crowd. 

The two colored men patronised the bookmakers, and demonstrated that they could pick winners when winners were well smothered up. In between the races the three-card trick men looked for easy money, and thought they had found it when the aborigines came along on the same errand. 

However, one of the blackfellows objected to the card trickster knocking over the gin case which served as a table when he was about to pick the right card. He made some remarks which were hardly complimentary to the card trickster, who resented them with a blow that the Aborigine cleverly side stepped. 

The three-card man followed up with a two-handed attack, which the Aborigine met in the most approved style, having been well trained by the shearers that annually visited Mount Gipps. 

Soon the cardman was fairly and squarely beaten, even though he had a local reputation as a fighter. However, this faithful 'buttoner' promptly aimed a bottle of beer at the victorious Blackfellow, who cleverly caught it and threw it back. His aim was true, for the bottle landed on the other man's nose, and broke it. 

"No good throwing things at us coves," he said in first-rate Australianese, "for we learn as soon as we can walk how to catch anything, especially a bottle." The crowd enjoyed the episode immensely, and wanted to 'buy up' for the darkies, but they refused, saying that they never touched it.— C.W.C., Maylands. 

'White Phellar Flurry Fool'

That the Aborigine has a sense of humor is evident in this story. Years ago my brother and I had taken a contract to cut and erect the telegraph poles for a new branch line between two small townships. As we put up the posts the linesmen followed with the wire, as far as the last stretching post. 

The natives in the district had never seen a telegraph line before, though they were familiar enough with other contraptions of the white man. During our operations a party of about fifteen came down from the hills to do a little hunting on the plains, and were attracted by curiosity to our neighbourhood. 

They sat down on their hams about fifty yards from the line for a considerable time watching our proceedings in silence. Then one of the older men said something in his own language. The whole lot rolled over on the ground in paroxysms of uncontrollable laughter. 

This continued so long that we became curious. I went over to them and asked what the joke was. For a long time I could get no answer. Each time one of them attempted to speak he was seized with another fit. 

At length one grey headed old fellow managed to control himself. He said that although they had known that the white men were fools, they had never thought they were such big ones as to build a fence like that. I did not disillusion him, and they went off giggling at the idea of the white men trying to keep cattle in a fence like that. 

But their ignorance did not prevent them from finding out that the insulators made excellent drinking cups. Many an interruption was due to this discovery. Their removal was not a difficult matter for such skilful climbers. — A. Daly.