Suddenly I found that my spirits, which had fallen so low, became revived, if only by the force of my own righteous indignation. Here was the cause of all my troubles, swigging liquor and warming his feet before a fire. Dr. Thomas Potter. I would easily have found Eden by now if it had not been for him. All at once I could understand. This was why the Lord had struck us with calamity. What else could be expected of an expedition that called itself Christian, and sought the holiest of places, and all the while harboured within it a magnet of wickedness? Why, He had been seeking to give me His warning. How could I go in search of paradise with an agent of the devil crawling and slithering at my side? That would be an abomination.
I now knew my task. I would fight him. Eden would yet be found, of that I had no doubt, but it would have to wait for the moment. The devil had appeared before me, and I would not shirk my duty. I would raise the standard of godliness, then join battle and smite him down.
Dr. Thomas Potter
JANUARY 1858
19th January (cont.)
Had supposed selves = finally rid of Wilson but not so. Self just growing warm from brandy when heard his dreadful twittering voice calling through darkness, sermonizing to mule drivers, ‘‘renounce this agent of the devil (self) before it = too late. Join me + return to the embrace of God,’’ etc. etc. Skeggs telling he to go away in strongest terms, Hooper throwing large stone. All at once Wilson dashing between selves, stealing two largest firebrands + fleeing away. Self considered pursuit + punishment but in truth all = too weary. Fire quite reduced, so expired during night.
Timothy Renshaw
JANUARY 1858
ENERGETIC EXERCISE WAS not something I had much troubled myself with till now, and there were a good few times when I cursed the day I had allowed myself to be bullied into joining this little jaunt into the Tasmanian bush. Then a morning came when, greatly to my own surprise, I found I had somehow become accustomed to this work of walking. My legs seemed quite to dance across mud and rocks, while I felt myself feeling strangely content of spirit. There was something curiously satisfying about an existence so simple, where all that was required was careful watchfulness hour after hour—to avoid a poor footfall, or an unseen snake—and which was rewarded at dusk with a fine sense of satisfaction at limbs stretched and miles traversed.
Another unexpected pleasure was the land itself. This was quite beautiful in a wild way, with its craggy mountains, its rushing rivers, its forests of pale trees. At dusk I would glimpse the strange creatures that lived here, the kangaroos and wallabies that jumped across the land with such unlikely grace. Even the cries of the birds, which I had at first found harsh, became pleasing to my ear. I would sometimes wake in the morning with a curious feeling, which I could not explain, that I was at home. It was only now, indeed, that I began to realize how greatly I had lacked any such sensation in England.
Then Wilson took us up his mountain.
My last recollection is of struggling, then of all the world vanishing suddenly upwards and beyond my grasp, and of my body being whipped by leaves and branches. After that the next thing I remember is finding myself staring at the sky as I lay, wet to the skin, upon the strangest of beds, being formed in part from tree foliage and in part from dead mules. Only two or three of the animals were still alive, while these were barely so, judging from their faint cries.
I began a number careful experiments of movement, each of which seemed to evince some new and unsuspected injury. By the time I finally risked sitting up I’d learned that I was bad in one leg, in one wrist, in both shoulders, in all ribs, as well as also in my neck, my back, my rear and—last but not least—my forehead, where that murderous fool had had the fine idea of tapping me with the butt of his gun. In truth I hardly knew who to thank most: Wilson for leading us up so miraculously ill-advised a path, Cromwell the guide for not telling him better, Potter for scaring the mule with his tugging, the mule drivers for allowing their animals to go sliding to disaster or Hooper for trying to play assassin and knocking me into this delightful spot.
I was, I knew, very lucky to be alive at all. I could only assume I had benefited from having my fall broken by the trees, and then landing upon the animals. Rising to my feet, I discovered that walking was possible, though it was no delight. Looking upwards at the black line that marked the cliff, I could see no sign of the other members of the party, and though I called out several times there came no answer. It seemed fellow explorers had gone. There seemed little point in dwelling upon such disappointment, however, and so I set about trying to preserve myself My first need was to make myself a shelter before the light was gone. Fortunately there was a tent in the very first mule bag I chanced upon, and, doing my best to ignore the howling of my various injuries, I put this up, which I did, if not well, at least in a manner that would suffice. Food posed no problem as the ground was quite littered with pots, tins and sacks. Matches and paper I soon discovered, and though gathering wood was more than painful, I managed to light a fire before it became fully dark. So I sat in front of my tent, almost comfortable, eating salmon and duck breast with rice, and drinking a survived bottle of champagne, toasting my still being alive.
I endeavoured to keep the fire alight through the night, hoping that its smoke and smell would help the others to find me. Sure enough, early the next morning, I was excited to hear footsteps approaching through the trees. I assumed that this would be all the party, and so was surprised to see only one. It was the guide, Cromwell.
‘‘Thank goodness,’’ I exclaimed. ‘‘Where are all the others?’’
He did not answer, but sat down in front of me, directing me a strange, almost quizzical look. ‘‘You must tell me this one thing. Why did you fight Hooper so?’’
It seemed a strange sort of question. ‘‘I could hardly let him shoot you.’’
A frown passed across his face, almost as if he were enduring some pain, or struggling with confusion. He reached out and, just for a moment, touched my arm with his finger, murmuring, ‘‘Renshaw.’’ Then the look was gone, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. He glanced at my bruised legs and arms. ‘‘You can walk?’’
‘‘Barely.’’
‘‘Later you can?’’
‘‘I suppose. But you’ve still not told me about the others. Are they coming?’’
He regarded me as if I had asked the most foolish of questions. ‘‘Forget them. They’re no good.’’
‘‘What d’you mean? D’you know where they are?’’
‘‘Gone away.’’
‘‘Surely they’ll come looking for me.’’
‘‘They won’t come. Forget them.’’ There was something in his look that made me wary of asking further. Rising to his feet, he began loosening the ropes that supported the tent. ‘‘This is too near mules. They will smell bad soon.’’
There seemed mystery in his every remark. ‘‘You’re not staying?’’
He shook his head. ‘‘Things to do.’’
So he began his work, quite refusing my offers of help. He moved the tent further away, close by a tiny stream, then began journeying back and forth, until he had assembled a large heap of pots and tins, and a mighty pile of firewood. Next he sat by the fire and manufactured a number of his spears, which looked light but fearsomely sharp. Taking three of these, he strode off into the trees, returning some time later with a freshly killed wallaby, which he quickly skinned, gutted and began roasting upon the fire, filling its empty belly with hot ashes. To my surprise it tasted very good, all the more so for being the first fresh food I had eaten in many days. Finally, when we had finished eating, he pointed to the remaining spears.
‘‘You keep those in case kanunnah—wolf—comes. He will smell the mules, you see.’’ He smoothed the ground in front of the tent and began scratching with a stick to draw what I realized was a kind of crude map. ‘‘When you are feeling better again you must go down here. Path is at the bottom, and you must go so with it, away from sun. Most of all
you must make sure always stay this side of the mountain that looks like a skull. Don’t go any other way, though it looks easier. So you’ll get to other white men.’’ He climbed to his feet. ‘‘Now I must go.’’
‘‘Will you come back?’’
He shook his head. ‘‘Things to do. You get better, then go back to your ones.’’ Without more ado he turned and was gone.
Dr. Thomas Potter
JANUARY–FEBRUARY 1858
20th January
Morning = bright + warm. Selves made new fire (to replace one Wilson stole in night) + sat in sun a while, brewing tea, till better recovered from trials of day before. Then considered present situation. All agreed that self should henceforth act as selves’ leader. Next considered how best try + escape wilderness + save selves. Confess will not be easy. Thanks to Wilson’s deranged wandering + selves’ confusion during descent from mountain = far from clear re present position. Neither desirable nor practical attempt retrace steps, as mountain = far too precipitous (Hodges + Skeggs nearly fell), so decided = best continue along this valley, following stream. Lie of land suggests best way = S(downstream) + then E when opportunity arises.
Set off without delay. Beside stream found path: v. fortunate. Direction not ideal (SSW rather than S) but will suffice for moment. Made good progress behind mountain with curious shape, like fist or skull. Later reached open ground where observed selves being followed. Wilson = 1 mile behind. Wilson. When all stopped he also stopping, when selves resumed he resuming etc. etc. Seems he = determined haunt us yet.
24th January
Another good day’s walking, though self increasingly concerned re path. Briefly turned E, i.e. towards settled areas, but then veered back WSW(quite wrong). In afternoon selves attempted cut across country but driven back by thorny vegetation which = among worst selves have met: remaining clothes badly torn, skin likewise. Also could observe way = further blocked by distant mountain range. V. discouraging. All selves agree = now too late retrace steps, as distance walked = too great + supplies = too low. Hope + believe path may yet swing back to E.
Dusk attempted hunt kangaroo but no success: animals bound away so swiftly.
Another nighttime visitation from Wilson. He telling others they shall suffer eternal damnation, burning etc. etc. because serving ‘‘agent of the devil’’ (self). Too dark to see exactly where he = but Hooper + self threw dirt, stones etc. etc. in general direction.
29th January
River joining second, much larger. Could follow this all way to coast? But which coast? (River veering S to SW.)
Obliged further reduce food ration. All now = permanently hungry. Again attempted go directly across country but again driven back by thorny undergrowth. Better to make progress even if in wrong direction?
No sign Wilson 2 days. Dead?
3rd February
Skeggs shot today wallaby, though only small one. Cooked on fire, all so impatient that ate meat when still half raw. Did not go far between 7 selves. All left feeling hungrier than before.
Wilson again plaguing selves in night, so not dead after all. Now promising have selves prosecuted for mutiny if selves reach Hobart. (If!) Hooper firing rifle in air. Most effective: heard he scampering away.
6th February
Path + river still S or SW. Never E. Progress slowing as selves weakened by lack sustenance. Last sugar finished this morning + obliged reduced daily food ration again though this = already v. insufficient. (Self should never have let Wilson take any: he deserted party so abandoned all entitlements.) Selves talking of food every moment, dreaming feasts each night. No sign settlements, roads etc. etc. even in furthest distance. Hard believe any men except savages ever set foot in this cursed place.
Rain during night (3rd time running): shelter of tree branches leaking + selves = (again) v. wet. All now have bad colds. Pneumonia = a fear.
12th February
Selves growing so weakened beginning doubt own judgment. Woke in night convinced could detect faintest smell of meat roasting on some distant fire. Could so clearly imagine fat spitting, skin browning etc. etc. caused self some pain. Yet knew could only = mere figment imagination.
Nobody = within miles of here but Wilson, who has no gun and = no hunter.
13th February
Alarming discovery when packed up after breakfast. Entire main supply ammunition (one large bag) = vanished. Searched everywhere, but to no avail. This = v. mysterious. Ammunition carried by Tom Wright, but he vehement could not have fallen from his bag. But if not he then how? Wilson? Seems unlikely. Yet no doubting = still near. Loss = v. grave. Selves have now only what was in pockets, i.e. 12 rifle rounds + 7 for revolver pistol. Chief hope was better luck hunting game as supplies food now = so low.
14th February
Terrible day. Early morning mule driver Ben Fiddler away to river to get water for tea. Selves waited, waited, but he not returning. Began search, calling out his name etc. etc. but no reply. Finally found empty water pan beside river + stone marked with blood nearby.
Selves = v. angry. Also mystified. He attacked by native wolf ? Seems unlikely. Hooper suggesting could be = work of half-caste Cromwell, but self knew this = impossible. Half-caste = wholly lacking in intelligence + hardiness to follow selves here, while would = far too scared by his (Hooper’s) actions on mountain. Besides, sure he = already long dead (could not survive without food). If any man = responsible, this surely = Wilson. Unlikely but not impossible. He = here (saw him in distance yesterday) + so disordered of mind could be capable any enormity.
Self decided = time selves sought him out. Found him easily enough, ¼ mile back along track, hiding in trees. Had not seen he close to + observed he = in poor state: v. fleshless, eyes distracted. His mule bag looking nearly empty. Had cross made from 2 sticks which he brandishing at selves, shouting, ‘‘Away devils,’’ etc. etc. When selves approached he scampering back to river’s edge + plunging in. This = v. rash (current = fast) but he managing reach further bank, where began uttering deranged taunts as per usual: ‘‘Come, come, across the waters, like Pharaoh’s cohorts,’’ etc. etc. Self considered following but decided against. Instead shouted out, demanding if he stole selves’ ammunition + murdered Ben Fiddler. He seeming surprised even pleased. Claiming this = ‘‘punishment’’ upon selves + that selves ‘‘cannot escape the eyes of the Lord,’’ etc. etc. Self left doubtful he = responsible after all. Also he so thin that = hard imagine could overcome Fiddler (strongest of mule drivers). Wolf responsible after all?
Food too short for selves to linger so continued on way. Self saw 2 wallaby and tried bag they, using revolver pistol, but again they = too quick. Ammunition tally: 4 rifle rounds + 5 pistol rounds. Food tally: 2 teaspoons sugar, 3 full + ¼ tins Aberdeen hotchpotch, 1 full + ¼ tins preserved salmon, 1 full + ¼ bags rice. 12 matches. Have tried carrying burning firebrand as walk, but always becomes extinguished.
15th February
Soon after set out this morning path split. One way SW, other SE. Latter = most promising since left Wilson’s mountain! Selves began nervously following but it keeping direction. Must surely lead selves towards settled districts. Only hope = not already too late.
17th February
Most terrible day till now. Selves brewing water (no tea left) for breakfast, Jim Bates away to attend to himself. Suddenly all selves = alarmed by loud cry. Hurried through trees + saw Bates = lying upon ground moaning, long stick (realized = spear) protruding from belly. Self heard footsteps running away. Pursued + caught brief glimpse figure darting away through trees. But not Wilson. Half-caste! Could hardly believe own eyes. Got off shot with pistol but missed.
Left Tommy Wright + rifle with injured Bates + took Hooper, Hodges to hunt he down. In event, this = not easy. Followed footmarks to stream but then no signs. Attempted search further but Hodges growing v. nervous, staring at every bush in fright etc. etc. Confess even self = a little concerned: vegetation = so thick + savage he could be hiding anywhere, ready
to fling spears. Decided = best return to Wright + Bates.
Most disturbing. Could only suppose half-caste = following selves all this while (must = he who stole ammunition, murdered Ben Fiddler + = cause of nighttime smell cooking meat). V. hard to credit his survival + pursuit selves = quite beyond intelligence + resourcefulness any of his Type. He = some freakish exception? Characteristics of his white (Saxon) Type half = unusually dominant? Yet what of his savage behaviour during earlier journey? Unless he possessed of special primitive resilience vs. savage conditions of this land? Confess whole matter = v. perplexing.
Selves obliged continue on way, keeping careful watch all while. Decided half-caste = sure to make mistake. Self hoped he might = attack again, so selves could deal with he. If selves reach settled districts + he follows, selves shall have him arrested + hanged as common savage murderer. Unfortunately selves’ progress much slowed by Bates, who = unable walk without much help from other selves, moaning at every step etc. etc. Had to stop early. Made camp by small pond.
After nightfall again detected faint smell cooking meat. This = provocation that simply could not be tolerated. Self insisted selves must follow smell, find fire, deal with half-caste + eat his meat. Hodges scared (as ever), so left he with Bates. Self led way back along path, Hooper + Skeggs following. Difficult in darkness (moon = ¼) but soon saw bright light campfire. Unfortunately this not half-caste’s but Wilson’s: he in nearby trees, denouncing selves as ‘‘devils’’ etc. etc. as usual. Self v. surprised he not speared by half-caste. Continued further + could soon smell another fire + cooked meat but could see no flames. Searched for some time though troubling to nerves, as so hard to see: moonlight hardly filters through trees. Finally discovered small blaze concealed at bottom of hole dug in ground. Seemed v. devious + cowardly arrangement. No meat. No sign half-caste. Most aggravating. Worse to come. On way back spear suddenly thrown as from nowhere catching Hooper in arm (fortunately wound = slight). Selves attempted pursue, fired 2 rounds, but nothing. Returned to others. Set up system of night watches vs. further attack.
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