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The details connected with the rescue of John King, the sole survivor of the Burke and Wills Expedition, have, strangely enough, never yet found their way into print, owing to a series of minor accidents, into the particulars of which it is not necessary to enter here.
The relief party, under the leadership of Mr. A. W. Howitt, fully equipped and provisioned to follow the supposed track of the expedition to the Gulf of Carpentaria, if necessary, knew nothing up to the time of the actual finding of King of the miserable fate which had overtaken the lost explorers; nor had they the faintest reason for supposing that they were actually on the verge of the discovery which was to so completely elucidate the mystery of their disappearance.
Early in September, 1861, Howitt's party reached Cooper's Creek, accompanied by W. Brahe, a member of Burke's expedition, who had been left in charge of the depôt at Fort Wills by Burke. He had remained there a month over the time mentioned in his instructions; his men were attacked by scurvy; the blacks in the neighbourhood were getting troublesome, and his provisions getting low. He therefore planted all the stores he could spare under a tree, marked "dig," and with them an explanatory letter to his leader, in the event of the return of the absent men, and retired to the depôt at Bulloo. He then started for Melbourne to report himself, but was intercepted by Howitt and taken back to Cooper's Creek as a guide.
King was found by Mr. Edwin J. Welch, the surveyor, and second in command of Howitt's party, a gentleman who afterwards identified himself with journalism, and who has been for many years favourably known in connection with the country press as a proprietor of newspapers, both in Northern and Western Queensland and Victoria. The following interesting account of his first meeting with King is taken from Mr. Welch's diary:--
"13th September, 1861. Shortly after leaving camp this morning, Howitt and I, accompanied by Brahe, rode on down the creek, ahead of the party, to the depôt at Fort Wills, hoping against hope that we should find Brahe's plant empty and some record of the missing men. We were doomed to disappointment. After a careful examination of the spot, Brahe declared that everything was as he had left it six weeks before. The caché had not been disturbed, and nothing but a few blacks' tracks in the loose soil existed to show that any human life had broken the solitude. We, therefore, continued our way, wondering what could have become of them, and discussing with keen interest the suggestions offered by each to guide us in our future movements. . . Camped the horses and camels about 3 p.m., on the bank of a large waterhole in the creek, covered with wild-fowl and partially surrounded by a dense growth of dead mallows of great size and height."14th September. Proceeded slowly westward, along the north bank of the creek, carefully searching for tracks. . . . Country opening out and improving in character. Magnificent reaches of water in the creek; some of the water quite salt, other holes containing water of a milky tint, sweet and pleasant to the taste, while in others again, it was brackish, and the edges were lined with petrified boughs, leaves, and some few fish. . . . Several times during the day we noticed blacks stealthily watching our movements from a distance, and travelling through the long grass in the direction we ourselves were going. . . . In the afternoon, Howitt, who had been riding well out from the creek, returned with the news that he had struck fresh camel tracks trending northwards, apparently those of a lost camel. . . . Another comfortable camp on the creek, with plenty of feed.
"15th September (Sunday). Left camp at 8 a.m. Howitt, with one of the black boys, started to run the camel track seen yesterday. I gave Sampson (the leading man of the file) a compass bearing to follow, with instructions to keep as closely to it as the windings of the creek would permit, and rode on ahead, actuated by curiosity as to the movements of our black friends of yesterday. After travelling about three miles, my attention was attracted by a number of niggers on the opposite bank of the creek, who shouted loudly as soon as they saw me, and vigorously waved and pointed down the creek. A feeling of something about to happen excited me somewhat, but I little expected what the sequel was to be. Moving cautiously on through the undergrowth which covered the banks of the creek, the blacks kept pace with me on the opposite side, their cries increasing in volume and intensity; when suddenly rounding a bend, I was startled at seeing a large body of them gathered on a sandy neck in the bed of the creek, between two large waterholes. Immediately they saw me, they too commenced to howl, throw their arms about, and wave their weapons in the air. I at once pulled up, and considered the propriety of waiting the arrival of the party, for I felt far from satisfied with regard to their intentions. But here, for the first time, my favourite horse--a black cob, known in the camp as 'Piggy,' a Murray Downs bred stock horse, of good local repute, both for foot and temper--appeared to think that his work was cut out for him, and the time arrived in which to do it. Pawing and snorting at the noise, he suddenly slewed round, and headed down the steep bank, through the undergrowth, straight for the crowd, as he had been wont to do after many a mob of weaners on his native plains. The blacks drew hurriedly back to the top of the opposite bank, shouting and gesticulating violently, and leaving one solitary figure, apparently covered with some scarecrow rags, and part of a hat, prominently alone in the sand. Before I could pull up, I had passed it, and as I passed it tottered, threw up its hands in the attitude of prayer, and fell on the ground. The heavy sand helped me to conquer Piggy on the level, and when I turned back, the figure had partially risen. Hastily dismounting, I was soon beside it, excitedly asking, 'Who, in the name of wonder, are you?' He answered, 'I am King, sir.' For a moment I did not grasp the thought that the object of our search was attained, for King being only one of the undistinguished members of the party, his name was unfamiliar to me. 'King?' I repeated. 'Yes,' he said; 'the last man of the exploring expedition.' 'What, Burke's?' 'Yes.' 'Where is he--and Wills?' 'Dead--both dead, long ago;' and again he fell to the ground. Then I knew who stood before me. Jumping into the saddle, I rode up the bank, fired two or three revolver shots to attract the attention of the party, and, on their coming up, sent the other black boy to cut Howitt's track and bring him back to camp. We then put up a tent to shelter the rescued man, and by degrees, as he recovered from the excitement of the meeting, we got from him the, sad story of the fate of his leader. We got it at intervals only, between the long rests which his exhausted condition compelled him to take, and the main facts are, as summarised, given below:--
"'Burke, Wills, Gray, and I, left the depôt in charge of Brahe, at Fort Wills, on the 16th December, 1860, with six camels, one horse, and provisions for three months. The stock was in splendid condition, and we were in high spirits. Keeping a steady course northwards, we reached salt water and mangrove swamps on--but I can't tell you the date; you will find it in Wills' field-books. He said it was the Gulf of Carpentaria, and we were satisfied; we could not get through the mangroves, and never saw the open water, but we had accomplished the object of the expedition. One of the camels had knocked up some distance back, and we had to plant his load, so that we were afraid to stay too long, for fear of getting short of rations. We did not follow our own tracks all the way back, but hurried as much as possible to reach the depôt in time. On the way back we killed the horse and one camel for meat, and one of the camels got away from us, so that we had only two left to finish the journey. We all walked, and threw away everything except the rations, a gun, and the clothes we had on. At one of the camps we buried all Mr. Wills' instruments, but I don't remember which one it was. Gray was getting knocked up worse and worse every day, and then he got to taking more than his share of the flour and sugar when he got a chance. Mr. Burke threatened him and boxed his ears for this, and when he turned in one night, about two days before we expected to reach the depôt, he said he felt he would not live till morning, and, sure enough, he didn't. When we turned out at daylight, Gray was dead; so we stopped there that day, and scooped a hole in the sand about three feet deep with our hands, and buried him in it. The next morning we pushed on for the depôt, and when we got there, two days after, it was deserted. The fire was still alight, and the tracks of Brahe's party were all fresh. There was a tree marked 'DIG,' and when we were able to get at the plant we found Brahe's note, which said they had left that morning; but we did not mind it very much, as there was plenty to eat. Of course, we were disappointed, but Mr. Burke said we could get back by Strzelecki's Creek to Mount Hopeless, and so to Adelaide. We stopped at the depôt five days, which was a good spell for ourselves and the two camels, and we felt much better. When we were ready to start, we buried all the field-books and some letters, to let anybody who came by know where we were going, and then covered up the plant carefully, so that the blacks should not find it out. We went westerly down the creek, and saw lots of blackfellows, but Mr. Burke did not care to try and make friends with them; he said there were too many of them, and it was no good wasting time. After we got some distance down the creek, it was decided to cross and strike to the southward, but we must have picked a bad place, for one of the camels got stuck in a quicksand at the end of a waterhole, and we could not get him out, although we worked hard for nearly twenty-four hours; so, as there was nothing else left for it, we shot him, cut off as much meat as we could carry, and, after drying it, started on again; but our load was so much heavier now that we had to travel very slowly, and the other camel was beginning to knock up. After two days more, he got so weak that he couldn't get up off the ground, so we had to shoot him too, pack some more of the meat, and then go on. We got on to a branch creek, which ran in the direction we wanted to go, but after a few more miles it ran out, and lost itself in channels in an earthy plain: so we had to go back to the last water. We were all three beginning to feel bad now, so it was decided to take a good spell before making another attempt. While we were doing this the rations were getting very short, and we began to cat nardoo the same as the blacks. Sometimes the blacks would come by and give us a few fish, which we could not catch ourselves, and sometimes we managed to shoot a crow or a hawk, but we had no strength to go and look for anything. Mr. Wills, however, determined to go back to the depôt, and see if anybody had been there, and he was away some days by himself. When he came back, he told us that he had seen nobody, but that he had opened the plant in the night, to bury another letter to the committee, and carefully covered it up again. A good thing for us, it happened that the weather was very fine, although cold at night, and we felt the cold badly, having very few clothes. Then we shifted camp a little higher up the creek, where there were two or three blacks' gunyahs, and Mr. Wills got so weak that he could not move out of his at all. Mr. Burke and I were getting very weak, too, but I was not so bad as they were, and managed to collect and pound enough nardoo to keep us all from starving outright. In a few days things were so bad that Wills, who was getting worse all the time and suffering great pain, persuaded Mr. Burke and I to go up the creek, while we had strength, and look for the blacks, as our only chance of life. We didn't like the idea of separating, but it seemed to be our only chance, so we made him some nardoo bread, and left it, with a billy of water, beside him, and went away. Together, Mr. Burke and I wandered slowly up the creek, but could not see a sign of any blacks, and after we had gone fourteen or fifteen miles, Mr. Burke said he could not go any farther, and lay down under a tree. I found some nardoo close by, and had the good luck to shoot a crow. The night was very cold, and we felt it dreadfully, and before daylight Mr. Burke said he was dying, and told me not to try and bury him or cover up his body in any way, but just put his pistol in his right hand. I did this, and then he wrote something in his pocket-book, and died about two hours after sunrise. When I was able to move, I went on again, to try and find help for Wills, but the blacks had all disappeared. I found some nardoo in one of their camps, though, and with this and another crow I shot, I started back to Wills. It took me four days to get back, and when I got there I found he was dead, too. I covered up his body with boughs and sand as well as I could, and then rested for two days, and started off again to look for blacks. I don't know how many days it was before I found them, but I think a good many. At first they were very kind to me, and gave me plenty to eat; after that they tried to drive me away, but I stuck to them, and the women gave me some nardoo every day, and sometimes one of the men would give me some fish. I don't know how long I have been with them, but I think it must be about three months. I knew you were coming before I saw you, for some strange blacks came down the creek and brought the news to the others, and somehow I got to understand that they had seen some white men on horses, who I knew would look for me. I could not learn to talk to them, but I began slowly to understand what they were saying. I think I could have lived for a long time with them, for I was all the while getting a little bit stronger.'"
From the foregoing narrative it will be at once seen that the unfortunate collapse of Gray, when within only two days' journey of the depôt, was the direct cause of the death of Burke and Wills. King was a young man, of good physique, and of a nature in which the disposition to mental worry or anxiety had no part. The leaders had to endure this in addition to their physical sufferings, and the bitterness of dying within the reach of help, after having successfully accomplished the most dashing feat ever recorded in the annals of Australian exploration. They had performed their allotted task, and they perished miserably in the hour of their success.
The criticisms of Australians generally, and of bushmen in particular, were for a long time afterwards directed to the apparently unaccountable circumstance that neither Howitt, Welch, nor Brahe detected at their first visit to the depôt that the caché had been opened. King's narrative showed that it had actually been twice opened, but it must be borne in mind that on each occasion the best precautions were adopted to conceal the fact, and thereby avoid attracting the attention of the blacks. The unfortunate men, who were slowly starving to death on the banks of the creek, had left no visible sign of their visit to the spot. Brahe, who made the plant, positively asserted that it had not been interfered with, and Howitt, therefore, wisely declined to burden himself with an additional weight of stores for which he had no present use. Even had it been opened on that 13th of September, the knowledge which it would have revealed was too late to be of service, and could not have expedited the rescue of King by more than a few hours, if at all.
(See page 219.--[Chapter IX.])