Please wait. Contacting image service... loading

Article text

THE STORY OF JOIHN CONRICK, PIONEER
TOLD BY HIMSELF.
(No. 15.)
(ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.) .
Adventures with wild blacks, a meeting with snake-
catchers, and a littie-known story of forty-two graves—the
result of a clash between native police and aborigines
are described in this interesting story by the veteran ex-
plorer and pastoralist.
The blackfellow who had run from us
was a splendid man, 5 it. 9 in., power
fully and finely built. We christened him
Willie Ware after a member of our
party, and. he was greatly pleased.
We had not gone very far from the
gins when we saw a native digging into
a sandhill about two miles ahead. He
was too busy to see us, and I pointed him
out to Yarrie, our black, and suggested
that we should have a little fun. I then
rode up to the digger and verified
Yarrie's statement that he was catching
snakes.
I had a beautiful mare, who had be
come accustomed to tracking, and seemed
to know just where I wanted to go. If I
got on the tracks of horses, cattle, or
blacks she would follow them herself,
putting her nose down occasionally and
smelling the tracks and then raising her
head and jogging along at her usual five
mile-an-hour gait, moving her ears back
and forward. My mare had sighted the
black as soon as I had, and she went
toward him.
The native was almost buried in the
sandhill and did not look up until the
horse's nose was touching him. Then he
yelled at the top of his voice and crouched
down on the ground. We were evidently
the first white men and horses he had
ever seen. Yarrie did his best to pacify
him. He had got one snake out of the
hole and was after another when we came
up. Yarrie was as amused as we were
at the joke.
EXPERT SNAKECATCHERS.
The blacks are very skilful at catching
snakes. When the snake is venomous
the hunter will kill It with a stick, but
when non-venomous, as the ones in this
case were, he wiill sometimes get hold of
it by the middle, crack it with a stick,
or grip it behind the neck with one hand,
double its neck up, and bite it. I have
seen fairly large snakes killed this way.
Of course you cannot drag a snake out
of a hole in a log by its tail, as it holds
on by its scales. I have seen a snake
pulled in half by a man who was trying
to get it out of a log. Yarrie persuaded
our snakehunter to come with us, and we
continued a few miles and camped.
We always slept side by side of the fire
opposite to the blackfellows, keeping our
guns under our rugs and our revolvers in
our belts. We kept the blacks in their
place in two senses. If one of the natives
moved in the night I could see him in-
stantly.
After we had had our tea the blacks
roasted their snake in the ashes and ate
ABORIGINES AT BARRIOOLAi Help
ABORIGINES AT BARRIOOLAH
him as dessert, after first offering us a
portion. Putting a few good logs on the
fire to keep it going we turned in after
carefully examining our firearms, as was
our practice.
After all was quiet a dingo came snif-
fing round, no doubt looking for a bit of
the roasted snake. I got up quietly and
picked a heavy burning stick and hit the
dingo in the ribs. He dropped, and that
seemed the end of him. The hot coals
from the stick scattered over the blan-
kets of the blacks, and they sprang up,
our snakekiller having another big
fright. The writhing dingo, the seared
blacks, and my two bewildered friends
made an amusing tableau. Soon we were
all asleep again.
BULLET STOPS DINGO.
I am always awakened by any move-
ment or sound at night, and when some
time afterwards the dingo recovered un-
expectedly and tried to get up, I was
instantly aroused. I pulled out my re-
volver and put a bullet through him. All
the party were immediately on their
feet, and the snakekiller made a terrific
bound into the night and was not seen
again. I have no doubt that he thought
the shot was fired at him. I was very
pleased that Yarrie did not take the same
view of things, as I should have been
very sorry to lose him. Poor Yarrie was
shot by the native police shortly after-
wards as one of Welford's murderers—a
terrible mistake. Unfortunately I was
away in Victoria at the time.
While we were moving northerly next
day we sighted a big mob of blacks hid-
ing in a waterhole near a sandhill. We
rounded them up. One chap who had
dived into the water refused to come out,
but I rode in and brought him out.
They were all afraid of us.
Our next meeting with blacks was while
we were journeying over a grassy plain
with a few gidgee trees on it. We saw a
black fellow and two gins ahead, and they
sighted us at the same time. I had to
extend my mare at her best pace to over-
take them. They were running in a
crouching position through the long grass,
the blackfellow dragging a very long spear
between his toes. I made him drop his
weapon and Yarrie soon convinced him
that we meant no harm to him or his gins.
Going on we came to a nice waterhole
called Teeta, which I considered to be the
first permanent water since the Cooper.
It is now the site of Betoota, a small town-
ship between Birdsville and Windorah.
Farther on in a westerly direction was an-
other big hole, Wyeroo, where we found
the watershed of what was afterwards
known as Farrer's Creek, which runs into
the Diamantina. Next day we saw more
fine waterholes and the country covered
with splendid long grass called native sor-
ghum. The blacks extracted the seed
from the sorghum by a kind of threshing,
and here and there were heaps of dry grass
which had been treated in this way.
Having left the Stony Desert country,
we went on to Thindpurtie waterhole,
where there was a large flock of whistling
ducks, which rose like a cloud and flew
overhead, but too high to reach with a
gun. I had seen tremendous numbers of
flock pigeons on the Cooper, but never in
my life had I seen such a huge flock as
this. The whistling duck is a pretty
little bird, cinnamon colored, and, like a
wood duck, will perch on the limb of a
tree. There are very few of them now in
that district.
Our black informed us that McKinley's
dray was away to the west in the flooded
country, but as we had decided to turn
back we did not look for it. We marked
a tree on the south bank of the waterhole
near the eastern end. At every camp we
had made a practice of marking a tree
"I. N." and the number of the camp the
letters standing for Innamincka and Nap-
pamerrie Stations. Our reason for turn-
ing back was that we were getting short
of food. We decided to take a straighter
route back to the Cooper, going a little
east of south.
In a few miles we could see what ap-
peared to be a round peak or knob on
the top of a sandhiil, but on reaching it
we found it to be a stony hill with a peak
higher than the sandhills. A mile or so
from this Yarrie pointed out to us what
he said were the graves of a mob of black-
fellows. He told us the number in each
grave, and we counted 42 who had been
buried there.
FORTY-TWO SHOT DOWN.
Yarrie said that some time previously
the blacks had had a skirmish with the
native police, and this was the result.
This explained the fears of the blacks we
had met and the terror of the snakekiller,
also why he disappeared when he heard
the shot. Nine miles on, at a waterhole,
Yarrie pointed out another grave, which
he said was that of a black who had been
wounded but had escaped only to die near
the hole.
Some few years later the blacks in the
Thindapurtie country committed several
murders, including three men on the late
John Mack's station and three more on
another station, besides killing John Wat-
son, who accompanied me on my first ex-
ploring trip. The three men were killed
while swimming in a waterhole, having
left their firearms and clothes on the bank,
and the blacks surprised them and mur-
dered them in the water.
Continuing our trip home we camped at
a waterhole called Cadelga, which is now
part of Cordillo Downs Station. It was
occupied later by Robert Frew, at one
time the head man of James Tyson, of
Tinenburra, which was later owned by
Hungerford Brothers and now by the
owners of Cordillo Downs. It was very
dark when we camped and we heard
blacks talking. They had heard us coming
and had thought it was another mob of
blacks, but when we coo-eed they disap-
peared.
Our camp fire was under a tree which
was evidently the roosting place of galah
cockatoos. When they came in I shot
some and we ate them. I prefer galah
to most birds, and in fact it is almost as
good as duck.
When we went on next day we found
several of the creeks running. There had
evidently been a thunderstorm and we
swam our horses through, caring little
about wet clothes. We rode through
sandhill country and camped at Coora-
moolappinnie waterhole, where I shot some
birds where were roosting near our camp.
We passed Lake Lipson next day. This
had been named by Sturt on his first
journey into this Country; it was a large
salt lake called Milkah by the blacks, and
is on Coongie Station. From there we
reached Innamincka without trouble, and
I returned to Nappamerrle.
VICTORIA ONCE MORE.
After a short spell I resolved to take
a short trip to Victoria with the Ware
brothers by our new South Australian
route to Adelaide, bringing our team with
us to replenish supplies. We left the
stock in charge of Alexander McKay and
a hutkeeper. Messrs. H. and N. Wilson,
who had just formed Coongie Station, ad-
joining Nappamerrie and over the South
Australian border, sent their team with
us. Our party all told was now five, in-
cluding the two men in charge of the
teams, and we were all non-smokers, an
unusual thing in the bush.
We travelled along my former tracks,
making a fairly well-beaten route, and
finding plenty of water for our horses
and ourselves right through.
On reaching Blanchewater I found that
the Bollabollana stores had been closed
up, and we had to go 70 miles away to
the Sliding Rock Copper Mine, travelling
by way of Umberatna, Owieandina, and
Leigh's Creek Stations. Sliding Rock was
a very busy place, a good many men be-
ing employed on the copper mine, which
was very rich, and there were several
stores, including one kept by Mr. Mar-
shall, which we bought right out. Mr. H.
G. Salmon, the Coongy manager, being
the buyer of the greater portion of the
goods, he had to use another team to
carry it back. Owing partly to the low
price of copper and the great quantity
of water in the mine the mines after-
wards shut down and have not reopened.
We left our teams here in charge of
the two teamsters, Scott and Sleicher, and
continued south. The teamsters were in-
structed to return to the station with their
loads..
We rode through Moolooloo Station to
the Blinman township, where there was
also a coppper mine, and left our horses
there in charge of a Mr. Duck, afterwards
Johnn Conrick (1923). Help
Johnn Conrick
(1923).
agreeing to sell them to him. He was
the Sliding Rock mail contractor. Next
day we took coach to Burra, which was
within the terminus of the Northern
railway.
RED COAT AND HORN
The coach was accompanied by a post
man in a red coat, who sat on the box
seat and had charge of the mails, sound
ing his horn at each mail change or post
office. We had a very pleasant trip and
enjoyed it very much after our long
months of residence in the back country.
The country was very rough and hilly.
We passed the Wilpena Pound, which was
in charge of Mr. C. B. Powell, now of
Adelaide, and went through Arkaba
Wonoka, Kanyaka Stations, and the old
Black Jack pub, which was still standing
a few years ago. A murder committed
there had made it notorious at the time.
At every station in the North in those
days there was an eating house and a
mail change with its fresh horses to put
in the coaches. There were no townships
in those days, and the old Pekina Station
was near where the town of Orroroo now
stands. The driver was a good man and
knew his business—his name was Terry—
and the coach horses were a fine lot. The
bush roads of South Australia were the
best we had ever seen, being mostly hard
and dry.
At Burra we took train to Adelaide
where we stayed in the old Criterion Hotel,
which was kept by Mr. Kirby, who was
interested in our travels, as he was one
of John McKinley's exploration party
which left Adelaide in 1861 to search for
Burke and Wills, who had been reported
as having been murdered by blacks beyond
Lake Hope. Kirby was the man who got
lost with McKinley's sheep in Coongy
Lake sandhills for three days, and was
found by McKinley with all the sheep
safe and sound. It has always seemed
strange to me that the blacks did not
kill Kirby and get his sheep, and it was
wonderful that he stuck to his charge.
We visited the Lands Office in Ade-
laide and took up several blocks of the
country we had explored, including Had-
don Downs and that portion of Coongy
adjoining Nappamerrte, which we after-
wards transferred. We then sailed for
Melbourne and returned to Warrnambool
for a spell. Here I bought some fresh
stock for our station on the Cooper—a
few blood and draught mares and some
well-bred cattle.
About this time, in 1874 or 1875, many
Victorians were giving their attention. to
Western Queensland owing to the favor-
able reports of the quality and grazing
capabilities of the country and of the
fine waterholes in the rivers out there.
Among the early pioneers on the Cooper
and Diamantina were Messrs. H. and N.
Wilson, of Coongy Station ; Colless, Bec-
ker and Green. of Innamnincka; Walter and
William Hood, of Anandale Station ;
Urquhart and Frazer of Kalidinwarry ;
Doyle and Nutting, of Barrioolah; Mick
and Willy Pendor, of Lake Pender ; W.
and J. Howie, of Haddon Downs; Elder,
Smith, & Co.. also of Haddon Downs; D.
McGregor, of Durham Downs, F. W.
Armytage, Gilmour brothers, C. B
Fisher, and Morphett brothers; of
Naryilco.
Not many of these pioneers made much
out of their venture. They were too soon
on the scene. The long distances from
markets, high Queensland rentals, losses
through drought and vermin, high rates
for cartage, and low prices for stock left
very little for the pioneer, and the 1900
drought was the final knock-out for most
of them—a disastrous ending for men
who deserved a better reward for lives
of hardship and self-denial. Dick Jones
and I were the only two of the original
pioneers who survived.
$