by Watkin Tench
4
Transactions of the colony in April and May 1789
AN extraordinary calamity was now observed among the natives. Repeated accounts, brought by our boats, of finding bodies of the Indians in all the coves and inlets of the harbour, caused the gentlemen of our hospital to procure some of them for the purposes of examination and anatomy. On inspection, it appeared that all the parties had died a natural death. Pustules, similar to those occasioned by the smallpox, were thickly spread on the bodies; but how a disease to which our former observations had led us to suppose them strangers could at once have introduced itself, and have spread so widely, seemed inexplicable.* Whatever might be the cause, the existence of the malady could no longer be doubted. Intelligence was brought that an Indian family lay sick in a neighbouring cove. The governor, attended by Arabanoo and a surgeon, went in a boat immediately to the spot. Here they found an old man stretched before a few lighted sticks and a boy of nine or ten years old pouring water on his head from a shell which he held in his hand. Near them lay a female child dead, and a little farther off, its unfortunate mother. The body of the woman showed that famine, superadded to disease, had occasioned her death. Eruptions covered the poor boy from head to foot, and the old man was so reduced that he was with difficulty got into the boat. Their situation rendered them incapable of escape and they quietly submitted to be led away. Arabanoo, contrary to his usual character, seemed at first unwilling to render them any assistance, but his shyness soon wore off, and he treated them with the kindest attention. Nor would he leave the place until he had buried the corpse of the child. That of the woman he did not see from its situation and as his countrymen did not point it out the governor ordered that it should not be shown to him. He scooped a grave in the sand with his hands, of no peculiarity of shape, which he lined completely with grass, and put the body into it, covering it also with grass; and then he filled up the hole and raised over it a small mound with the earth which had been removed. Here the ceremony ended, unaccompanied by any invocation to a superior being, or any attendant circumstance whence an inference of their religious opinions could be deduced.
An uninhabited house near the hospital was allotted for their reception and a cradle prepared for each of them. By the encouragement of Arabanoo, who assured them of protection, and the soothing behaviour of our medical gentlemen, they became at once reconciled to us and looked happy and grateful at the change of their situation. Sickness and hunger had, however, so much exhausted the old man that little hope was entertained of his recovery. As he pointed frequently to his throat, at the instance of Arabanoo he tried to wash it with a gargle which was given to him; but the obstructed, tender state of the part rendered it impracticable. Bàdo, bàdo (water) was his cry. When brought to him he drank largely at intervals of it. He was equally importunate for fire, being seized with shivering fits, and one was kindled. Fish were produced to tempt him to eat, but he turned away his head with signs of loathing. Nanbaree (the boy), on the contrary, no sooner saw them than he leaped from his cradle and eagerly seizing them, began to cook them. A warm bath being prepared, they were immersed in it; and after being thoroughly cleansed they had clean shirts put on them and were again laid in bed.
The old man lived but a few hours. He bore the pangs of dissolution with patient composure and, though he was sensible to the last moment, expired almost without a groan. Nanbaree appeared quite unmoved at the event and surveyed the corpse of his father without emotion, simply exclaiming, bòee (dead). This surprised us, as the tenderness and anxiety of the old man about the boy had been very moving. Although barely able to raise his head, while so much strength was left to him, he kept looking into his child’s cradle. He patted him gently on the bosom and, with dying eyes, seemed to recommend him to our humanity and protection. Nanbaree was adopted by Mr White, surgeon-general of the settlement, and became henceforth one of his family.
Arabanoo had no sooner heard of the death of his countryman than he hastened to inter him. I was present at the ceremony, in company with the governor, Captain Ball and two or three other persons. It differed, by the accounts of those who were present at the funeral of the girl, in no respect from what had passed there in the morning, except that the grave was dug by a convict. But I was informed that when intelligence of the death reached Arabanoo, he expressed himself with doubt whether he should bury or burn the body, and seemed solicitous to ascertain which ceremony would be most gratifying to the governor.
Indeed, Arabanoo’s behaviour during the whole of the transactions of this day was so strongly marked by affection to his countryman and by confidence in us that the governor resolved to free him from all farther restraint and at once to trust to his generosity, and the impression which our treatment of him might have made, for his future residence among us. The fetter was accordingly taken off his leg.
In the evening, Captain Ball and I crossed the harbour, and buried the corpse of the woman before mentioned.
Distress continued to drive them in upon us. Two more natives, one of them a young man and the other his sister (a girl of fourteen years old), were brought in by the governor’s boat in a most deplorable state of wretchedness from the smallpox. The sympathy and affection of Arabanoo, which had appeared languid in the instance of Nanbaree and his father, here manifested themselves immediately. We conjectured that a difference of the tribes to which they belonged might cause the preference, but nothing afterwards happened to strengthen or confirm such a supposition. The young man died at the end of three days. The girl recovered and was received as an inmate, with great kindness, in the family of Mrs Johnson, the clergyman’s wife. Her name was Bòoron, but from our mistake of pronunciation she acquired that of Abaròo, by which she was generally known, and by which she will always be called in this work. She showed at the death of her brother more feeling than Nanbaree had witnessed for the loss of his father. When she found him dying, she crept to his side and lay by him until forced by the cold to retire. No exclamation or other sign of grief, however, escaped her for what had happened.
May 1789. At sunset, on the evening of the 2nd instant, the arrival of the Sirius, Captain Hunter, from the Cape of Good Hope, was proclaimed, and diffused universal joy and congratulation. The day of famine was at least procrastinated by the supply of flour and salt provisions she brought us.
The Sirius had made her passage to the Cape of Good Hope by the route of Cape Horn in exactly thirteen weeks. Her highest latitude was 57° 10′ south, where the weather proved intolerably cold. Ice in great quantity was seen for many days, and in the middle of December (which is correspondent to the middle of June in our hemisphere) water froze in open casks upon deck in the moderate latitude of 44°.
They were very kindly treated by the Dutch governor and amply supplied by the merchants at the Cape, where they remained seven weeks. Their passage back was effected by Van Diemen’s Land, near which, and close under Tasman’s Head, they were in the utmost peril of being wrecked.
In this long run, which had extended round the circle, they had always determined their longitude, to the greatest nicety, by distances taken between the sun and moon, or between the moon and a star. But it falls to the lot of very few ships to possess such indefatigable and accurate observers as Captain Hunter and Mr (now Captain) Bradley, the first lieutenant of the Sirius.
I feel assured that I have no reader who will not join in regretting the premature loss of Arabanoo, who died of the smallpox on the 18th instant, after languishing in it six days. From some imperfect marks and indents on his face we were inclined to believe that he had passed this dreaded disorder. Even when the first symptoms of sickness seized him, we continued willing to hope that they proceeded from a different cause. But at length the disease burst forth with irresistible fury. It were superfluous to say that nothing which medical skill and unremitting attention could perform were left unexerted to mitigate his sufferings, and prolong a life which humanity and affectionate concern towards his sick compatriots u
nfortunately shortened.
During his sickness he reposed entire confidence in us. Although a stranger to medicine and nauseating the taste of it, he swallowed with patient submission innumerable drugs,*2 which the hope of relief induced us to administer to him. The governor, who particularly regarded him,*3 caused him to be buried in his own garden and attended the funeral in person.
The character of Arabanoo, as far as we had developed it, was distinguished by a portion of gravity and steadiness which our subsequent acquaintance with his countrymen by no means led us to conclude a national characteristic. In that daring, enterprising frame of mind which, when combined with genius, constitutes the leader of a horde of savages, or the ruler of a people, boasting the power of discrimination and the resistance of ambition, he was certainly surpassed by some of his successors who afterwards lived among us. His countenance was thoughtful but not animated. His fidelity and gratitude, particularly to his friend the governor, were constant and undeviating and deserve to be recorded. Although of a gentle and placable temper, we early discovered that he was impatient of indignity and allowed of no superiority on our part. He knew that he was in our power, but the independence of his mind never forsook him. If the slightest insult were offered to him, he would return it with interest. At retaliation of merriment he was often happy, and frequently turned the laugh against his antagonist. He did not want docility, but either from the difficulty of acquiring our language, from the unskilfulness of his teachers, or from some natural defect, his progress in learning it was not equal to what we had expected. For the last three or four weeks of his life, hardly any restraint was laid upon his inclinations, so that had he meditated escape, he might easily have effected it. He was, perhaps, the only native who was ever attached to us from choice, and who did not prefer a precarious subsistence among wilds and precipices to the comforts of a civilised system.
By his death, the scheme which had invited his capture was utterly defeated. Of five natives who had been brought among us, three had perished from a cause which, though unavoidable, it was impossible to explain to a people who would condescend to enter into no intercourse with us. The same suspicious dread of our approach, and the same scenes of vengeance acted on unfortunate stragglers, continued to prevail.
5
Transactions of the colony until the close of the year 1789
THE anniversary of His Majesty’s birthday was celebrated, as heretofore, at the government house, with loyal festivity. In the evening, the play of The Recruiting Officer was performed by a party of convicts, and honoured by the presence of His Excellency and the officers of the garrison.† That every opportunity of escape from the dreariness and dejection of our situation should be eagerly embraced will not be wondered at. The exhilarating effect of a splendid theatre is well known; and I am not ashamed to confess that the proper distribution of three or four yards of stained paper, and a dozen farthing candles stuck around the mud walls of a convict hut, failed not to diffuse general complacency on the countenances of sixty persons of various descriptions who were assembled to applaud the representation. Some of the actors acquitted themselves with great spirit and received the praises of the audience. A prologue and an epilogue, written by one of the performers, were also spoken on the occasion; which, although not worth inserting here, contained some tolerable allusions to the situation of the parties, and the novelty of a stage representation in New South Wales.
Broken Bay, which was supposed to be completely explored, became again an object of research. On the sixth instant, the governor, accompanied by a large party in two boats, proceeded thither. Here they again wandered over piles of misshapen desolation, contemplating scenes of wild solitude whose unvarying appearance renders them incapable of affording either novelty or gratification. But when they had given over the hope of farther discovery, by pursuing the windings of an inlet which, from its appearance, was supposed to be a short creek, they suddenly found themselves at the entrance of a freshwater river, up which they proceeded twenty miles in a westerly direction; and would have farther prosecuted their research had not a failure of provisions obliged them to return. This river they described to be of considerable breadth and of great depth, but its banks had hitherto presented nothing better than a counterpart of the rocks and precipices which surround Broken Bay.
June 1789. A second expedition, to ascertain its course, was undertaken by His Excellency, who now penetrated (measuring by the bed of the river) between sixty and seventy miles, when the farther progress of the boats was stopped by a fall. The water in every part was found to be fresh and good. Of the adjoining country, the opinions of those who had inspected it (of which number I was not) were so various that I shall decline to record them. Some saw a rich and beautiful country, and others were so unfortunate as to discover little else than large tracts of low land covered with reeds, and rank with the inundations of the stream by which they had been recently covered. All parties, however, agreed that the rocky, impenetrable country seen on the first excursion had ended nearly about the place whence the boats had then turned back. Close to the fall stands a very beautiful hill which our adventurers mounted, and enjoyed from it an extensive prospect. Potatoes, maize and garden seeds of various kinds were put into the earth by the governor’s order, on different parts of Richmond Hill, which was announced to be its name. The latitude of Richmond Hill, as observed by Captain Hunter, was settled at 33° 36′ south.
Here also the river received the name of Hawkesbury, in honour of the noble lord who bears that title.
Natives were found on the banks in several parts, many of whom were labouring under the smallpox. They did not attempt to commit hostilities against the boats, but on the contrary showed every sign of welcome and friendship to the strangers.
At this period, I was unluckily invested with the command of the outpost at Rose Hill, which prevented me from being in the list of discoverers of the Hawkesbury. Stimulated, however, by a desire of acquiring a further knowledge of the country, on the 26th instant, accompanied by Mr Arndell, assistant surgeon of the settlement, Mr Lowes, surgeon’s mate of the Sirius, two marines and a convict, I left the redoubt at daybreak, pointing our march to a hill distant five miles in a westerly or inland direction, which commands a view of the great chain of mountains called Caermarthen Hills, extending from north to south farther than the eye can reach.†2 Here we paused, surveying ‘the wild abyss; pondering our voyage’.†3 Before us lay the trackless immeasurable desert, in awful silence. At length, after consultation, we determined to steer west and by north, by compass, the make of the land in that quarter indicating the existence of a river. We continued to march all day through a country untrodden before by an European foot. Save that a melancholy crow now and then flew croaking overhead, or a kangaroo was seen to bound at a distance, the picture of solitude was complete and undisturbed. At four o’clock in the afternoon we halted near a small pond of water where we took up our residence for the night, lighted a fire, and prepared to cook our supper: that was, to broil over a couple of ramrods a few slices of salt pork and a crow which we had shot.
At daylight we renewed our peregrination and in an hour after we found ourselves on the banks of a river nearly as broad as the Thames at Putney and apparently of great depth, the current running very slowly in a northerly direction. Vast flocks of wild ducks were swimming in the stream, but after being once fired at, they grew so shy that we could not get near them a second time. Nothing is more certain than that the sound of a gun had never before been heard within many miles of this spot.
We proceeded upwards by a slow pace, through reeds, thickets and a thousand other obstacles which impeded our progress, over coarse sandy ground which had been recently inundated, though full forty feet above the present level of the river. Traces of the natives appeared at every step; sometimes in their hunting-huts, which consist of nothing more than a large piece of bark, bent in the middle and open at both ends, exactly resembling two cards set up to form an acute a
ngle; sometimes in marks on trees which they had climbed; or in squirrel-traps;* or, which surprised us more from being new, in decoys for the purpose of ensnaring birds. These are formed of underwood and reeds, long and narrow, shaped like a mound raised over a grave, with a small aperture at one end for admission of the prey and a grate made of sticks at the other. The bird enters at the aperture, seeing before him the light of the grate, between the bars of which he vainly endeavours to thrust himself, until taken. Most of these decoys were full of feathers, chiefly those of quails, which showed their utility. We also met with two old damaged canoes hauled up on the beach, which differed in no wise from those found on the sea coast.
Having remained out three days, we returned to our quarters at Rose Hill with the pleasing intelligence of our discovery. The country we had passed through we found tolerably plain and little encumbered with underwood, except near the riverside. It is entirely covered with the same sorts of trees as grow near Sydney and in some places grass springs up luxuriantly; other places are quite bare of it. The soil is various, in many parts a stiff arid clay covered with small pebbles; in other places of a soft loamy nature; but invariably, in every part near the river, it is a coarse sterile sand. Our observations on it (particularly mine, from carrying the compass by which we steered) were not so numerous as might have been wished. But certainly, if the qualities of it be such as to deserve future cultivation, no impediment of surface but that of cutting down and burning the trees exists to prevent its being tilled.
To this river the governor gave the name of Nepean. The distance of the part of the river which we first hit upon from the sea coast is about thirty-nine miles, in a direct line almost due west.
A survey of Botany Bay took place in September. I was of the party, with several other officers. We continued nine days in the bay, during which time the relative position of every part of it, to the extent of more than thirty miles following the windings of the shore was ascertained, and laid down on paper by Captain Hunter.
