THREE DAYS IN Queensland

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XII, Issue XVIII, 5 May 1894, Page 412

THREE DAYS IN Queensland

A DAY IN THE CITY—A DAY IN THE BUSH—AND A DAY AMONG THE BLACKS.

NO. II.—A DAY IN THE BUSH. THE railway systems of Queensland do not run parallel with the coast like those of New Zealand, but start from the coast and run straight inland or due west. Population has, as a rule, concentrated at the ports, the starting points of these trunk lines. The ports dot the long seaboard at intervals of from 100 to 200 miles. Once outside the 'fringe of fertile coastlands, which run back to the foot of the great dividing range, settlement, except at one or two inland goldfields, is limited and scattered. That being the case, we have not far to travel from the haunts of men and commerce to spend a day in the bush.

Booking for the 30 mile peg, the nearest stopping point to the residence of a friend, who in Queensland agricultural parlance is called a * selector,’ we are soon under way on our journey. For the first seven miles or so the railway track runs past the cultivated patches of that übiquitous, persevering and never-ceasing worker, the self-constituted exile from * far Cathay.’ However much the Chinaman may be detested, badly spoken of and badly used, by his Christian brethren, the latter, in their magnanimity, will never, well, hardly ever, deny that but for the patient industry of the despised yellowman, this hard, sun-baked, and thirsty land would not, at least to the same extent, have yielded its bountiful harvests. Here, under his jealous care,

flourish in luxuriance, bananas, pine and custard apples, guavas, granadillas, water melons, oranges, lemons, limes, spinach, cabbage (the leaves, at any rate), sweet potatoes, maize, and sugar cane. Leaving this green oasis behind, we pass through dry pasture, scorched, brown plains, cracked into great fissures with the drought of months. Here and there at intervals the iron road carries us over a culvert built to allow a passage for the stream. The courses are there and well enough defined but the waters have vanished. But look yonder. What meant these rude erections —hastily-built cairns, improvised crosses, stone pillars and fenced plots—that mark the banks of that deeper and wilder, but, like the others, empty watercourse? These are the graves of those who returning with their golden treasure from that modern Eldorado, Charterstowers, came seeking water, and finding none, lay down and waited on death and judgment. Hence the name of the watercourse, which had been tht ir hope for days as they dragged their weary, sun-boiled, thirst-maddened frames nearer its deluding, faithless channel—Dead Man’s Gully—and there on its banks side by side in their nameless graves the diggers are sleeping. Look yet again. There, round that once refreshing, lifegiving waterhole, lie the skeletons of the victims of the merciless drought. Driven thus far by the thirst agony the dumb cattle have come to cool their fiery throats, and finding it empty have lain down and yielded themselves up in despair. Glad to be spared from looking at such sights as these we are more than pleased to alight when the train draws up at the thirty-mile peg. Following the beaten footpath through the scrub our friend’s, the selector, house, called in bush life * a bark humpy,’ is now reached. While the beef and damper is being cooked for dinner, we will inspect this, to us, new and primitive structure. The framework consists of upright standards of rough sawn timber, and upon these, instead of weatherboards, large pieces of bark cut from trees in the vicinity and dried are nailed, and form the walls of the house. The roof is of iron, and there is plenty of room left for ventilation at the eaves. The windows are in keeping with the building, and are simply square holes cut in the bark, and the pieces attached to the upper part of the square by leather hinges, which enables them to be raised or lowered as required. ' And lowered they very soon are, for there comes a travelling whirlwind. It careers along like a mad thing, catching up into the air and scattering to the four winds everything that it finds in its path. Fresh leaves, a child’s lost cap, the washing drying on the bushes, all go up together in the swirl. It is here, it is gone, bid in a cloud of dust it passes by bent on its mad frolic. The examination of the exterior of the * humpy ’ finished, curiosity, and let us confess, the pleasant odour of beef and damper, impel us to have a look at the inside. There is no lath and plaster on these walls, no finely designed paper, no ceiling with a gaselier swinging from its stuccoed centre. The walls are of bark, the roof of iron, the only relief being the bare studs that support them. There is one sure sign of

civilization among the prevailing primitivenesa, and that is the snow white cover which bides a plain deal table standing on the clean and well swept earthen floor. Considering the unwonted surroundings we partake of a hearty meal, especially enjoying the boiled banana pudding. After dining we saunter out and take the path through the giant gum trees with their straight white trunks rising 50 feet and more before a branch breaks out. The tropical sun reigns in a cloudless sky, but the leafy canopy of the encalptus shelters us from his fierce beams. The leaves have climbed the tallest stems, crept along the branches, and flung their arms aronnd the neighbouring bonghs, uniting all in the bonds of a common life, or rather death, for these giant creepers are but parasites, and prey upon the life which has raised them from their lowly condi tion among the shadows below to the bright sunlight in the heights above. A colony of parrots, many hued as a fashionable assembly of ladies, occupy or flit from branch to branch, and chatter longer and more loudly than wisely

and well. From under a moss covered stone a lizard comes out, watches us furtively with bis qnick eyes, runs over the toe of our boot and disappears ; and there, sitting on bis haunches, listening and watching, is an old man kangaroo, disturbed in his afternoon meal. The slightest movement on our part sends him off by leaps and hounds, disturbing in his flight a foolish-looking and gawky-shape.d emu, who joins in the headlong scuttle. While this general stampede is taking place a peal of ironical laughter rings through the forest. At first we are unable to find out from whence the unusual sound comes, but a second and merrier peal proclaims the culprit to be a laughing jackass, who perched on the limb of a tree is seemingly regarding the proceedings with curious delight. Retracing our steps we reach the * bark humpy ’ in time to escape a tropical shower. These showeis are a peculiarity of the Torrid Zone. A minute ago the sky was one great expanse of blue. From beyond our horizon a cloud hurries up, discharges its waters in the shortest time possible, and it is all over. The sun reigns undimmed again, begins its work of evapora-

tion, and a vapoury steam broods over the landscape. During the duration of the shower we have been spectators of another bnsh sight. On the track crossing a slight elevation a short distance from the door of onr refuge,two figures, straight as arrows and scantily clad, march in single file. It is a black fellow and his 'gin.’ The gent with his stately walk and erect figure leads the way. High above his black curly locks he proudly holds a battered and torn umbrella which some green new chum in his innocence had brought with him to the bush. Behind his lordship bis sponse follows hard. The only protection from the showers he and the * pickaninny,’ lying in the bark cradle slung over her shoulders, possess, is the huge bundle of sticks for the camp fire, which she carries on her head. The health of the mother and child is nothing compared to the father’s comfort and gratification, so the rain is just enough to fall on both alike, while the lordly paternal relative takes due care of his precious carcase. Think of this, ye queens of the city, when some gallant beau is unmurmur-

ingly holding aloft your tiny parasol while the drops are falling without mercy on his own dear self, and ruining forever his shining hat and immaculate necktie. A ‘day in the bush’ once in a while is all veiy well, but what of those who have to endure the silence and the solitude throughont the years. True, the iron horse rushes past in the distance several times a day, and the smoke may be seen as it ascends above the summit of the highest gums. Neighbourly calls are few and far between, the next * selection ’ being miles away. The most frequent visitors are the blacks. They are not always welcome. Knowing nothing of civilized manners and customs they never announce their arrival by knocking at the door and presenting their card. The first intimation the lady of the bush mansion receives of their presence is when turning round from some household task she finds a pair of red black eyes fixed on her and a set of white teeth displayed in a grinning mouth. In time of course they get used in a way to this manner of introduction, but never altogether. Life and death feuds between the settlers and the blacks, especially on the plains of the far west known as the Never Never

country, are, unfortunately, not yet occurrences of the past. The black has not yet fully come to understand that be may not spear with impunity the settler’s cattle which graze on his native heath, and the settler on the other part has not come to recognise that the life of a blackfellow is above the value of his dumb cattle. So the affair usually ends with the shooting down of a few ‘ niggers,* calling for retaliation by the tribe on the defenceless homestead when the * boss ’ and the hands are mustering at the other end of the run. Thankful, therefore, are we, as we return to town, that our lot has fallen in more pleasant and less dangerous places, and that our visitors are in the habit of knocking at the door and thus giving us timely notice of their arrival. (To be Continued.)