24 September 1936

EYRE'S OVERLAND TRIP TO WESTERN AUSTRALIA 

Companion Shot By Natives

One of the most outstanding names in records of Australian exploration is that of Edward John Eyre. Eyre was connected with several expeditions, but by far the most daring of his exploits was the journey from Adelaide to King George's Sound. 

Prior to 1840 there had been much discussion regarding the benefits to be derived from the opening of a stock route from South Australia to the western State. Owing to the arid nature of the country to be passed through, Eyre did not consider that a route could be successfully established, although he agreed that a knowledge of the country would prove of interest. 

He thought it would be of greater advantage to learn something of the country to the north of Adelaide. Eyre and Governor Gawler discussed the matter at great length. The upshot of it was that Eyre offered to lead an expedition to the interior. If he failed to penetrate in that direction, he would make his way to the westward and explore the country to King George's Sound. 

Eyre also offered to bear a considerable portion of the expense, and, on his offer being accepted, disposed of his sheep station on the River Light, in order to finance the expedition. Of expenses amounting to £1,391, Eyre contributed £680, and also supplied horses valued at £200. 

On June 18, 1840, the expedition left Adelaide. Included in the party were Eyre's close friend, Edward Bates Scott, Corporal Coles of the Sappers and Miners, John Baxter, previously Eyre's station overseer, J. Houston, R. McRobert, and two native boys. They took with them drays, horses and sheep. A small cutter, The Waterwitch, was loaded with provisions and dispatched to the head of Spencer's Gulf. 

Eyre forced his way to four hundred miles north of Adelaide, and got into the basin of Lake Torrens. It proved a fearful country of alternate mud, brackish water, and sand. As the party proceeded, the ground became salt-encrusted mud into which one's feet sank at every step, making progress all but impossible. 

After many futile attempts to get around the lake, Eyre came to the conclusion that it was impossible to proceed further in that direction. Beaten back from the north at all points, and bitterly disappointed, he made his way westward to Streaky Bay meanwhile, endeavouring to find an opening to the interior. From Streaky Bay, he went on and formed a depot at Fowler's Bay. 

Weary months were spent in trying to find a way to the westward or northward. Eyre made desperate attempts to get round the head of the Great Australian Bight. Water could only be obtained by digging, and when found, was generally brackish. A scorching sun blazed down upon the parched and barren cliffs which bordered the pitiless coast. For eleven hundred miles not a rill of water. For seven hundred miles no safe harbor for a small vessel. 

After spending nearly a month in trying to round the head of the Bight, Eyre returned to his depot. But only to start again with a dray-load of water. One more he was driven back, although he had approached to within twelve miles of the head of the Bight. He decided to make a final effort, and this time, was successful in reaching the head of the Bight. The actual distance was only 153 miles, but to reach his goal Eyre had to ride nearly 650 miles and labor incessantly for six weeks, while a dray laden with water was driven back and forth for 240 miles. 

In the meantime, Scott had returned to Adelaide, and carried back further supplies with the cutter Hero. He also brought a native named Wylie, who had been specially got round from King George's Sound. 

Though Eyre had succeeded in reaching the head of the Bight, he did not find the change in the country for which he had hoped. He decided that a large party could not possibly get through, and came to the heroic determination to reduce his followers and make for King George's Sound with packhorses only. He informed his friend Scott that they must part, as he intended taking only three native boys as of most service in the country to be passed over. 

His overseer, Baxter, begged to be allowed to continue; and, to this, after pointing out the extreme dangers of the journey, Eyre consented. Eyre and Baxter rested for several weeks at the depot, while the rest of the party returned to Adelaide. On January 24, 1841.

Eyre decided to break camp. He had almost completed final preparations and was burying a few provisions, in case of a forced return, when he was surprised to hear the report of a gun. He was delighted to find that the shot had been fired by his young friend Scott, who had again returned by boat from Adelaide with further supplies and numerous letters, and verbal messages advising him to abandon the project. But Eyre was not to be moved. 

On the following day he bade farewell to Scott, and started on his hazardous journey. He took nine horses, a Timor pony, and some sheep. Leaving Fowler's Bay, Eyre kept to the coast. Beyond the Bight, he came to high cliffs, which, for miles, were unbroken by a single ravine. It was here that the most terrible part of the journey began. 

On one occasion, Eyre and his companions were five days with out water, and the animals almost with out food. They were reduced to such straits that it was found necessary to leave everything that was not absolutely essential to life. Sometimes they rejoiced over a pint of water collected with a sponge from dew-wet grass. Some of the animals died and others were left behind. Men and animals alike were reduced to living skeletons. 

In vain, Baxter endeavored to persuade Eyre to turn back; but Eyre pointed out that to attempt to return in their weakened condition was almost equally as perilous as to continue. 

Two of the natives deserted, but could not induce the third, the boy named Wylie, to go with them. After a short time they returned, apparently repentant for their lapse. 

On April 29 the day was extremely hot and an early halt was made. During the evening an icy wind arose, and the moon was frequently lost to view behind a scud which drove across the sky. Eyre took first watch, and, not long after Baxter had turned in, went to attend to a horse which had strayed a little distance from the camp. 

Suddenly, he was startled by the report of a gun. He ran back to the camp and found Baxter lying in a pool of blood near the campfire. The two natives who had previously deserted had ransacked the camp, and, caught in the act by Baxter, had shot him. 

Eyre was 500 miles from human aid; his only companion an uncivilised black, who, for all he knew, might have been a party to the crime. Grief stricken, Eyre wrapped the body of Baxter in a blanket, and gathering what few provisions the deserters had left, he and Wylie proceeded on their way. For a time the two native followed and tried to entice Wylie away, but, being unsuccessful in this, they disappeared, and are believed to have perished in an attempt to return to Fowler's Bay. 

On May 3, Eyre found a supply of water at a distance of 130 miles from the last. There was little life of any kind in that desolate region, and the supply of food well all but exhausted. Yet, with dogged determination, Eyre and Wylie pushed slowly forward. A few days later they saw the first hill for many hundreds of miles, and from then onward the country began to show gradual improvement. Birds and occasional animals were seen, while, as they progressed, water became more abundant. 

On June 2, weak and exhausted, Eyre and Wylde reached Thistle Cove. They were overjoyed to see a ship in the bay. It proved to be the whaler Mississippi. Eyre stood on a wave-worn rock, and made signals. To his great delight he was seen, and a boat put in to take him off. Eyre and Wylie were hospitably received. 

After resting for twelve days, refreshed and well supplied with food and clothing, they resumed their journey. The last stage proved comparatively uneventful, and, on July 7, Eyre and his faithful follower arrived safely at Albany; thereby completing a journey of more than a thousand miles over unexplored country. 

After a week's stay in Albany, Eyre returned by boat to Adelaide. He had long since been given up as dead, and he arrived back as a hero. Wylie was rewarded by the Government, and returned to his tribe at King George's Sound. 

Eyre's journey proved a terrible and unprofitable experience. Only his iron will and indomitable courage brought him through where a lesser man would have perished. 

Later, he filled the position of Governor of Jamaica, but owing to the stern measures he adopted in dealing with negro rioters, he fell into disfavor and returned to England. Despite the hardships he had suffered in his earlier life, he lived to a ripe old age.— A.H.B. 

The Thylungra Graves 

Forty-five years ago I secured a job as a stockman on Thylungra cattle station. When I started work there I noticed that a little plot of ground under a shapely gidgee tree near the homestead had been enclosed with a neat fence. I asked the manager if someone had been buried there, and he nodded. 

'Yes.' he replied, 'it's where our two little girls are buried. They died last year of diphtheria.' 

After I had been working on Thylungra for a year, the manager secured another job on a station 40 miles away, and another man took his place. On the morning after he arrived the new man looked at the little fenced plot under the gidgee tree, just as I had done, and enquired what it was. I told him. 'Then go and knock the fence down and burn it at once,' he said. 'Who wants a blanky cemetery right in front of the house?' 

I refused to do anything of the kind, and so did another stockman. 'Have a heart, boss,' he expostulated. 'Those two little girls were buried there. You can't destroy a grave.' 

'Can't I?' he retorted, walking away to get an axe. Within half an hour he had obliterated all traces of the fence. The act created a great deal of bad feeling among the men on the place; our boss tried to justify his action by saying that people should have better sense than to make a cemetery in full-view of a homestead. 

'The proper place to make one is well out on the run somewhere,'' he added. 'Nobody wants to see tombstones every time they open the front door.' 

Another year passed; then the little daughter of the new manager of Thylungra came to her mother and complained of bad sore throat. Within a few hours the child was alarmingly ill with diphtheria, and by the following morning was dead. 

I have never forgotten the dreadful look on the face of the father as he went out with a shovel to dig a grave. He looked at the gidgee tree under which the two previous diphtheria victims had been buried; then walked on and dug a grave near the creek bank. It is not hard to imagine what his thoughts must have been when he stood looking at the spot where he had chopped down and burnt the fence which the other bereaved parents had erected. — G.S.L. 

Caught In The Act 

An attempt to set fire to a house in Gawler in the 'nineties of last century was discovered by the owner. He found that a box of wax matches had been opened, two of the matches lighted and laid down on a dressing table, which was draped in flowered muslin over pink calico as was the custom of the period when empty cases covered with attractive 'hangings' so often took the place of real furniture. 

When the householder returned home he found that the matches had burnt holes in the drapery corresponding with their length, and had then gone out. Other matches had been arranged at convenient distances on the table, but fortunately did not take fire. 

The miscreant was caught in the act. It was the owner's favorite cockatoo. 

After that wax matches in that establishment were banned in favor of those guaranteed to strike only on the box. — J.R.