A Message to Wivenhoe Station after Mr. Uhr’s Murder
Another Message to Whiteside Station
Alone in the Bush
A Coffin Ready Waiting
The Murder at Whiteside Station
Piloting “Diamonds” Through the Bush
A Reason for the Murder
An Adventure Down the Bay
No Water; and Nothing to Eat but Oysters
A Drink out of an Old Boot
The Power of Tobacco
“A Mad Trip”
In about 1846, when my father was a young boy of fourteen or fifteen years, he was sent with a letter to Wivenhoe Station, on the Brisbane River, just after the murder by the blacks of Mr. Uhr there. A blackfellow accompanied him, to show him the road to the station. After leaving Brisbane, the first night was spent at Moggill Creek, and the next day the two, after travelling a good many miles, came to a large scrub on the river, where a number of blacks were making a great noise hunting paddymelons. The black man cooeyed, and the others hearing him, came to the travellers, and finding where they were going, and who Father was, they were very nice, and invited the pair to stay with them that night, which they did. The white boy lay half the night listening to the blacks exchanging news with the visitor, laughing and joking away quite happily.
Next day they resumed their journey, and on reaching the station Father delivered the letter, and was taken inside and refreshed. They stayed the night there, and the following day the boy was given another letter to take back to Brisbane for Richard Jones, who lived where Sir Samuel Griffith now lives at New Farm, and who, if my father remembers correctly, was a relative of the murdered Mr. Uhr. On the return journey another night was spent with the blacks, who welcomed them heartily, and sped them on their way to Brisbane, where they arrived safely.
On yet another occasion “Tom” was trusted with a letter, but this time he went alone, and his destination was Whiteside Station. The letter carried the news that old Captain Griffin had arrived in Brisbane, and needed horses to take him out to the station, where his wife and grown-up family were already settled. It was late in the afternoon when the boy started, and darkness overtook him ere the scrub at the present Cash’s Crossing was reached. He proceeded to go through the scrub, however, but it was so dark, that giving the horse his head, he retraced his steps back to the edge again, lest he should lose himself, and decided to wait till moonrise.
This is the one memory my father has of feeling a little afraid in the bush. He lay down with his horse’s bridle fixed firmly to his arm, and in that position slept (?) off and on for some hours, being aroused every now and then by a pull at his arm, as the horse started at some noise. It must have been rather an uncanny feeling lying there alone in the darkness-alone, and yet not alone, if one counts the innumerable ‘possums and other creatures with their weird noises.
Poor old Captain Griffin met his death through, one hot day, quenching his thirst from what he thought was a cask containing water. However, the fluid proved to be a wash for sheep with footrot. His widow was a lady, who, years before her death, had her own coffin prepared ready. It reposed somewhere up in the loft awaiting its day of usefulness. My father has seen it many a time. It is said that she showed the curiosity to visitors.
Another time the blacks had attacked two shepherds at the Upper North Pine at Whiteside Station, and killing one, left the other for dead. The latter had his nose broken and his face otherwise disfigured with a waddie, but he lived. Word was sent to Brisbane about this murder, with the request that some one would be sent out to try and catch the murderers. Therefore about a dozen soldiers were told off for the duty, and instructed to go to the station and see what they could do. My father was sent for, and asked if he would accompany the red-coats, as they did not know their way through the bush.
Very early one morning the party started, and when they had got about half way the soldiers began to tire. It was a very hot day, and their heavy red coats and muskets made them grow damp and feel uncomfortably warm. So down they sat for a rest, saying prayers on behalf of the blacks, and some flung off their coats to get cool, and others turned to Father and said, “How far have we got to go yet?” and when he told them they growled again.
After half-an-hour’s rest they wearily continued their way, but every little while paused and asked again how far it was, blessing the road and the “black devils” until at length, when almost in sight of the station, they sat down again, declaring they would not move a foot further! “The station is just over the ridge, there” said Father, but they only swore and said they didn’t care; they’d stay where they were. After a little, however, five or six volunteered to go with their young guide, and when they reached the station the stockman was sent to bring the others.
Next day the soldiers were taken to where the murder had been committed, in order to catch the blacks, but it was of no use, as the latter by then were all down in Bribie Island, and the soldiers might just as well have tried to fly as catch them. Father returned to Brisbane without the “diamonds” for company this time, who, though they stayed a few days longer, did not accomplish their object.
Some years after the murder of this shepherd, the natives told my father why they had killed him. Once, they said, they went to his hut and looked in. No one was about, but they saw some flour, and feeling hungry went off with some, and made a damper of it. When cooked they commenced to eat, but found it “barn” (bitter); then some got sick, and three of the number “very much jump about,” and died. The rest of the damper was thrown away, and the blacks swore that they would have revenge for their friends. They also said that while they were hunting for ‘possums and sugarbags on this run, two or three of them were shot, and a white man riding, came unexpectedly upon one poor fellow, and caught and tied him to a tree and flogged him with a stockwhip, telling him on his release that if he caught him again on the ground he would shoot him.
Can one wonder that the blacks committed murder? Father remembers a yarn he had about fifty years ago with several very old blackfellows at one of the “bon-yi” feasts he attended. These men told him that a great many blacks and gins and pickaninnies were poisoned at Kilcoy Station -they were there at the time. The white fellows gave them a lot of flour, and it was taken to camp and made into dampers and eaten. Shortly after some of those who had eaten of it took fits, and ran to the water, and died there; others died on the way, and some got very sick, but recovered. The old men showed how each poor poisoned wretch had jumped about before he died.
Another time in the early days, during my father’s boyhood, a Mr. Hill, a contractor in Brisbane, asked Mr. Petrie, senior, if he would allow “Tom,” his son, to go with him to the Logan River, as he wished to take possession of a raft of cedar timber he had bought there. He said he would be very grateful for the lad’s company, as he knew then he would be all right should they encounter any natives. My grand- father demurred at first, but afterwards gave in, and Father had just to go and be content. Mr. Hill also wanted a black- fellow, so the boy picked one of the name of “Wonggin-pi” (“Wonggin” is the tail part of a kippa’s head dress.) He had no trouble in getting this blackfellow-a dozen wished to go when they heard of the trip, and that Father was going.
Mr. Hill procured a boat about the size of a ferry boat, and got a sail for it, then put on board a three-gallon keg of water, also a kettle and rations to last about a fortnight. The party started in the early morning from Petrie’s Bight- a crew of four-Mr. Hill, his man (Old Tom), “Wonggin-pi,” (the blackfellow), and last, though not least, my father. They had a nice gentle breeze from the north-east, and got along first rate, reaching Coochimudlo that night, where on the mainland they found two men and two or three blacks with the raft waiting to deliver it to Mr. Hill. It was high water at the time, so the latter could not, of course, measure the timber, but in the morning the raft was high and dry, so it was then measured and taken over, and the men were given an order for their money in Brisbane. The raft was not very large, and the timber was all handsawn in to square flitches, the bottom tier being held fast by chains, and a number of logs lay on top. The party made fast the raft to the bank, and stayed where they were that day, taking a look round about. It was a time of drought, and everything looked wretched and dry, and they had very hard work finding water-almost all the waterholes were empty. However, they got enough to fill their keg and kettle.
Mr. Hill now decided to leave the raft where it was, go to where the sawyers were cutting the timber in the scrub up the Logan or Albert River (it is not remembered which), and pick it up on their return. So they made a start, the men and blacks who had brought the raft accompanying them in their own boat. Arriving at the place, the sawyers showed Mr. Hill all the fine timber round about, and the party stayed there in the scrub a few days.
On the return journey, when the river had been traversed down to its mouth, they came across a bank of fine oysters, about two hundred yards from a small island. Thinking it would be nice to take some with them, they decided to fill a couple of bags, and in order to do so stuck a stick in the mud to tie the boat to, and intending to be but a short time away left the sail up. Filling one bag, they carried it to the boat, and telling the darkie to get in and bail out, went to fill the second. Suddenly, while in the midst of this, a strong gust of wind blew up, and away went the boat, darkie and all. The tide was fast coming in on the bank, and the boat was fast drifting away, with the blackfellow helplessly putting an oar out first on one side, then on the other, which, of course, pulled the boat round, and every moment things got worse.
In the meantime Father was calling with all his might to the blackfellow to pull the sail down, and at last the distracted fellow heard and did so, but after that again he paddled with one oar as formerly, and, of course, went on drifting further and further away. He did not seem to hear, though the boy called his loudest to use both oars, and at last was so far away that Father thought he would never get back. By this time the water was up to the waists of the three on the bank, and it was rising quickly, and small sharks were swimming round them-they could not know but what at any moment a large one might appear!
Under these agreeable circumstances Father was for swimming to the island, but it turned out Old Tom and Mr. Hill could not swim, and they said to him, “For God’s sake do not leave us.” Father thought he could swim with one at a time, if they would just lean with their hands on his back, but before he started to carry out this proposal he had another look towards the boat, and discovered that at last the blackfellow was pulling with both oars, and coming in the right direction. So they waited. Nearer and nearer came the boat, till she reached the three, not a bit too soon, for the water was up to their armpits.
“We were thankful to get into the boat,” my father says, “and the poor old darkie was regularly fagged out. We put up the sail, and started on our journey again, but had not gone far when a strong north-east wind sprang up, and the sea got very nasty, so we ran for shelter to a small island, and pulled the boat up on the beach to save her being knocked about, and also to be certain that she would not be blown away from us again. Well, we were stuck there four days! At the end of the second we had no rations or water left- nothing but oysters, and the more we ate of these the dryer we got. Poor Old Tom kept saying he would not care if only there was a bit of tobacco to chew.
“On the fourth day the sea grew calm, so we launched the boat, and started once more on our way to the raft. It was a very hot day, so we decided to land on the mainland, and look for water. When we got ashore the darkie and I went off with the keg, hoping to fill it, and we also carried a tomahawk and a sharp stick. We travelled miles, but every hole we came to was dry, and though we dug in the swamps with the stick and tomahawk, and scraped the earth out carefully with our hands-no water. At last we gave up, and returned to the boat quite tired out, reporting our want of success. Old Tom said, ‘Oh, if only I could get some tobacco, I would not care about water; but Mr. Hill looked down on his luck,’ and said nothing. I think, though, he would have given his raft of timber willingly if he could have got a drink, and the darkie was in a great way; he kept rinsing his mouth with the salt water. My mouth also was in a bad state–it was frightfully dry. The only thing we could do was to eat oysters, and the more we did that the more we wanted water. It was so hot that we rigged up the sail of the boat for a shelter, and when night came on all lay down in a heap under it, and tried to go to sleep; but none could. The thirst seemed to affect the blackfellow most.
“About eight o’clock it commenced to thunder, and the lightning came. We saw that a storm threatened, so prepared by putting our pint pots and kettle under the points of the sail to catch the water. Old Tom had his boots off, so the darkie, unseen by the owner, took one of them, and placed it also under the sail. Then at last the rain came down, and the pint pots got full, and didn’t we all have a good drink! The boot also got full, and the darkie, putting it up to his mouth, soon emptied it, and put it back again for more! The rain didn’t last long, but we managed to get enough to drink, and to fill the kettle.
“We started again then on our journey, and reached the raft, which we found all right; so two got on to it, and with long poles pushed it along; while those in the boat towed it. We kept close to the shore, so that we could touch the bottom, and we took it in turns on the raft and in the boat, and worked with the tide. We got along all right till we came to the bay on the south side of Cleveland Point, when our water came to an end again, and the tide was on the turn, so we had to drop anchor and wait. The tide wouldn’t suit till late in the afternoon, so the darkie and I started off again in search of water, leaving the others to watch the raft.
“When we got out of the boat we sank up to our knees in mud, first one leg, and then the other, and had to struggle on so with rests in between, for it was hard work, till we reached firm land. Then we trudged along, and, as before, every hole we came to was dry. At last in following a gully we came to one with water, which, however, didn’t look extra clean; but as soon as the darkie saw it he dropped the keg, and, running to it, down he lay flat, and putting his mouth to the water drank till I began to think he would never stop. Then my turn came; and, afterwards, getting a supply, we carried it back to the boat. When in sight of the latter, the darkie started jumping about in delight, and called out that we had plenty water. Old Tom, when he’d taken his drink, said if only he had a piece of tobacco to chew he wouldn’t call the Queen his cousin!
“After eating some oysters, I went with the blackfellow on to a bank covered by a few feet of water, and there we tried with a boathook to spear some stingarees and small shovel-nosed sharks which swam about in plenty. They, however, were too quick for us, so we had to give up all idea of that sort of meal and return to the boat.
“We now made a start for Brisbane, the darkie and myself on the raft, and the others in the boat, and we got round Cleveland Point, and went along towards Wynnum. It was getting late in the evening then, and we on the raft felt fagged out, so just lay down and went off to sleep. Waking some time in the night, we at first thought we had lost the boat, but afterwards found it had swung round and come in close to the raft, and the two occupants, who were also worn out, were fast asleep. As far as we could see, we were some- where between St. Helena and Wynnum, and the flood-tide seemed to be taking us towards the Brisbane River; so we thought we would also get into the boat, lie down with the others, and let the boat and raft go where they liked. It was not long before we were asleep again, and when all woke in the morning we were high and dry on a mud bank in the Boat Passage. As luck had it, the tide had taken us in the right direction.
“About nine o’clock the Custom House boat came in sight, coming to look for us-they thought we had all been drowned or killed by the blacks. They could not get nearer than one hundred yards because of the low tide, but Old Tom did not wait-he jumped out into the mud, and though he sank nearly to his waist, went on leg by leg till at length he reached them. The first thing he asked for was tobacco’ -not something to eat, though he must have been very hungry –and when he got a fig he put half in his mouth and chewed away with great gusto. As soon as the tide rose they brought the rest of us food, which we ‘tucked’ into, and soon felt all right again. The blackfellow commenced to mimic Old Tom going through the mud for his tobacco, and he lay down and rolled about laughing at the way the old man had chewed it up. He had no laugh in him while he was hungry!”
When the tide was high enough the raft was floated, and the Custom House boat took it in hand as far as Lytton, and eventually the party of four arrived in Brisbane, after what my father now terms a mad trip. “It was madness,” he says, “to venture out in such a small boat so badly pre- pared. We thought also we would only be away a fortnight.”