RETURN TO PORT USBORNE.
We were now about 40 miles in a direct line from Port Usborne, and perhaps 70 by the winding course we were obliged to follow; only two days' provisions remained, and as we were still deficient of material for the chart of this archipelago, I was reluctantly obliged to abandon the idea of attempting to reach Collier Bay. The mainland we had explored, since leaving Port Usborne, may be described as forming eight bays, varying in depth from three to eight miles, and in width from two to five; their general trend is East-South-East; many islets skirt their shores, and almost more than can be counted fill their mouths.
March 26.
With the first grey of the morning we left Bathurst Island, on our return to the southward. Whilst passing inside the cluster of isles of slate formation, we heard a "halloa," and on looking in the direction from whence it proceeded, a native was observed on a raft: the boat's course was immediately altered so as to cut him off should he attempt to escape, but to my great surprise he paddled towards us with all possible haste.
THE NATIVE YAMPEE.
He was soon alongside, and with great satisfaction we at once recognized our strange friend of yesterday, who amongst the boat's crew, went by the sobriquet of Yampee. He again made use of the word Yampee according to our orthography, and after repeating it several times, I offered him some water, which he very eagerly accepted, twice emptying a canister that had originally held 4 pounds of preserved meat; this afforded me additional proof of Yampee being the word the natives of these parts use for water. At Swan River, the native name for water is gab-by, which differs so much as to lead us to suppose the dialect of the two places is quite distinct. This supposition is also borne out by the fact, that Miago, the native of Swan River we had on board, could never understand the language spoken by his countrymen, on the western shore of King's Sound. We found our new acquaintance as yesterday, perfectly naked, the raft he was on was in every respect similar to that previously seen upon Roe's Group, with this slight exception, that between each pole several small pieces of wood were inserted so as to make the flooring of the raft almost smooth. Into the large end of the centre, and largest pole, six long pegs were driven, forming a kind of basket in which were secured his means for procuring fire; they consisted of two pieces of white flint, and some tinder rudely manufactured from the inner bark of the papyrus tree. He used in paddling a short spear, sharp at each end, and struck the water alternately on either side; in this primitive manner he contrived to make way with a rapidity that astonished us all. He had two spears on the raft, besides the one he used for paddling; one of them was about 12 feet long, also pointed at each end, though not barbed; and a small stick, similar to that used by other natives for throwing at birds, and small animals. As well as we could understand by his signs, it appeared that he had been anxiously waiting our arrival, and had pushed off from the main to intercept the boat, on our leaving Bathurst Island. We threw him a line, and he immediately comprehended our intention, and its use, by at once making fast to the raft; an instance of confident reliance upon our good intentions, which reflected much credit upon the unsuspicious openness of his own character, and which I should have exceedingly regretted by any act of ours to abuse.
PARTING WITH THE NATIVE.
Had not the distance and our scant supply of food, rendered such a step imprudent, I should have been very glad to have towed him to the ship. I really believe he would have trusted himself with us, for that or a much longer distance; but this could not be, and therefore, after endeavouring to make him understand that we should sleep some distance to the south, where there was a larger boat, alluding to the ship, we filled his basket with bread, gave him as much water as he could drink, and bidding him farewell, reluctantly cut him adrift: I shall not soon forget the sorrowful expression of his countenance, when this apparently inhospitable act was performed; it did not seem however to quench his regard for his new friends, for so long as we could see him he was hard at work paddling in our wake. I noticed that the beads given him yesterday were gone; this fact, coupled with the smokes seen during the day, satisfied me that he had friends in the neighbourhood, to whom I hoped he would report favourably of his new acquaintances; we had certainly endeavoured to obtain his goodwill. Simple-hearted, trusting savage, farewell!
NATIVE SPEARS.
The woodcut represents the difference between the spear used by the natives of this district and those of Swan River.
SPEARS OF KING SOUND AND SWAN RIVER.
We soon reached Whirlpool Channel, through which the tide again hurried and whirled us with almost frightful rapidity; we were in one part of it shot down a fall of several feet, the boat's bow being fairly buried in the boiling current. Emerging from this channel the hoary face of the remarkable headland already described, burst on our view; and as it was necessary if possible to reach its summit, we landed in a small bay, near the southern extremity.
By following a winding ravine we gained the crest of this singular platform, which we found formed of a fine-grained sandstone, with some beautiful specimens of crystallised quartz on its higher parts, over which was a slight sprinkling of vegetation, consisting of a few small gumtrees and patches of coarse grass. The weather was unusually cloudy, with squalls from the North-East; towards the evening it was fine with a moderate breeze from East-South-East. As it was late when we reached the boat, we spent the night where we landed.
March 27.
We were early on the move pursuing our southerly course, the morning being rather gloomy with a fresh North-East wind, which raised a good deal of sea in the mouths of the larger bays. As the day closed we reached a cove half a mile north of Tide-Race Point, where we passed the night.
March 28.
This morning the thermometer was down to 72 degrees at daylight, which gave us the novel sensation of cold. It was late in the forenoon before the violent ripplings at Tide-Race Point had subsided sufficiently to allow of our passing it. The rate of the current at this point appeared at times scarcely less than eight knots per hour, and traversing a rocky ledge, extending to some islands, and nearly dry at low-water, rendered it almost impassable, except when nearly high tide.
CASCADE BAY.
In the afternoon we reached the cascade discovered on our way to the northward, and from which the bay within which it is received its name. We spent an hour or two luxuriating in the thorough enjoyment of a treat so rare, as this beautiful stream must be considered in North-western Australia. In the evening we continued our return to Port Usborne, by a channel leading from the bottom of Cascade Bay into the large sheet of water first seen from Compass Hill; our progress was arrested at its inner entrance by the violence with which the tide rushed through, and we were therefore obliged to pass another night in the boats.
RETURN OF THE BOATS.
March 29.
We reached the ship this morning, entering Port Usborne by a narrow rocky channel, on its North-West shore; on the precipitous sides in this passage we noticed several of the Rock Kangaroo.
We found that Mr. Usborne had returned three days before us: from his account of the islands he had visited, they appear to have the same sterile character as most of those we had seen; in other respects, his trip was void of interest, beyond that of surveying. During the absence of the boats, tidal and magnetic observations had been made, some specimens in Natural History had been collected, and all that could in any way add to the interest of the expedition, had been as well attended to as the means placed at our disposal would allow.
We closed at Port Usborne our explorations in King's Sound, the result of which enabled us to fill up the gap long existing in the charts of the North-west coast of Australia, and which had for years been the theme of much ingenious geographical speculation. The result of our labours, if it had been less brilliant than eager anticipation at the onset led us to hope for, had nevertheless been on the whole satisfactory. The river Fitzroy, although not of the magnitude that we hoped to find, was still an undoubtedly valuable acquisition to our stock of geographical knowledge, and offered a way of access into the interior, of which we had availed ourselves to the extent of 90 miles, and which subsequent