A flower-hunter in Queensland & New Zealand

Preface

My love for the flora of Australia, at once so unique and so fascinating, together with my desire to complete my collection of floral paintings, has carried me into other colonies, Queensland, and some of the remotest parts of the great Continent of Australia. The excitement of seeking and the delight of finding rare or even unknown specimens1 abundantly compensated me for all difficulties, fatigue, and hardships. The pursuit has made me acquainted with many strange phases of colonial life; it has carried me into the depths of jungles, to distant islands, to wild mountain districts, and has brought me in contact with the aboriginal races, often in peculiar circumstances.

The experiences gained in this pursuit form the subject of my letters, written to my friends from the places they describe, and transcribing impressions while they were still in all their freshness. The letters contained in the first part of this volume were written to my husband in 1890-1892, at a time when the state of my health compelled me to pass the winter months in the tropical climate of North Queensland. To him, who encouraged me in my work of collecting and

1 Those specimens hitherto unknown were named by the late Sir Frederick Muller.

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PREFACE painting the flora of Australia, they owe whatever interest they possess. The task, which I undertook at first to please him, soon became my greatest interest and an unfailing source of pleasure. The latter part of the book consists of a selection of my letters from New Zealand, written some years later in sadder days and altered circumstances. Portions of some of these letters appeared in the Sydney Town and Country Journal , and for permission to reprint these passages I am indebted to the kind courtesy of the proprietor.

It only remains for me to express my gratitude to the many friends in Queensland and New Zealand for their kindness to me, and for the generous and ungrudging help given me in my work.

E. R.

November 1897.

Chapter I

Letter I. Rockhampton. — -On a sea of glass — In the mountains to Towoomba — A fine view — A kangaroo-hunt — Art and discomfort on the s.s. Maranoa — Rockhampton — On the road — Wild cattle — Mount Morgan Mine — The Murray Lagoon — Mackay — “The Rocks” — A glorious view— -Snakes — Rest ...... Page 3

Chapter II

Letter II. Habana. — Happy darkies— -Black-gin’s Leap — Beautiful spiders’ nests — Disagreeable insects — A praying mantis — A picnic.

Letter III. Macnade House. — Townsville — Charters Towers gold field — Herbert River— A kind welcome — Critical Kanakas — Ingham —A variety show — Fever — Saved from “swimming home” . 17

Chapter III

Letter IV. Goondi. — A storm — A dangerous voyage — Just in time — Past Cardwell — Mourilyan Harbour — Geraldton — In the “lawyer’s” clutch — Goondi— Nature’s splendour — Fairyland— Another attack of fever ........... 28

Chapter IV

Letter IV. Hambleton. — Back to Townsville — Cairns — Go-ahead John Chinaman — A smash-up — Hambleton sugar plantation- — A Corroboree.

Letter V. Myola. — Travelling on a cowcatcher — Caudle lectures 38

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Chapter V

Letter V. Myola ( cont .) — The Barron Falls — Flower-hunting — Cannibalism.

Letter VI. Herberton. — Dull and monotonous scenery — A night ride — Comfortless Quarters — Letters.

Letter VII. Muldiva. — A primitive mining town — Heat — Montalbion — No fancy drinks — Tired out ..... Page 48

Chapter VI

Letter VIII. Myola. — Muldiva Mine — Chillagoe Cattle Station — The Caves — Unspeakable solitude — Herberton — A dying child — Mount Albion — Watsonville — A romantic view — Nightmare — A welcome voice — Fire — A wonderful deliverance — The “Speaker” — Caught in a whirlwind — An unpleasant outlook — Mrs. S.’s meal — Crossing the ford — Georgetown — Inquiring children and an independent black . 60

Chapter VII

Letter VIII. Myola {coitt.) — Homesick — Native customs — The ordeal of a Kipper — Preparing for camp life — .Sleeping in the open — A mirage — The pitiless sun — Mrs. S. has “sunstroke” — A gallop and another breakdown — Arrival at Herberton — Rest ... 82

Chapter VIII

Letter IX. Cairns. — Painting.

Letter X. Cooktown. — Port Douglas — Cooktown — The sympathetic black maid — A good man’s grave — The German missionary’s appeal — Native habits.

Letter XI. Bloomfield River. — On H.M.S. Lizard — Rough quarters — A perilous situation — Alligators — Rescued — Borrowed majesty — Fishing — At Wyalla Station — Throwing the boomerang — Gladiators — Religious customs — Various fungi ...... 97 xi

Chapter IX

Letter XII. Wyalla. — Old Bloomfield Mill — Beautiful scenes — A hard climb up Mount Macmillan — A glorious flower-world — A trip to the Moravian Mission Station — A doggy incident — The much-abused eucalyptus — A good-bye visit to a camp.

Letter XIII. Cooktown. — A comfortless journey — Various beds

Chapter X

Letter XIV. Off Thursday Island. — On board the s.s. Jumna — dangerous coast.

Letters XV. and XVI. Thursday Island. — With the British Fleet — A Cingalese Madame Sans Gene — Brilliant sea-flowers — A mischievous clothes-line — Uproarious adieux — A visit to the Residency — A curious phenomenon.

Letter XVII. Somerset, Cape York. — The inaccurate judgment of Marcus Clarke — Unsurpassable Australian flowers — Happy days of continual painting — Some strange natives — The Dugong — Snake stories — The white ant — A stupid trick . . . . .130

Chapter XI

Letter XVIII. Marbiag. — Banks Island — Jervis Island — Inquisitive children — The Wongi — An excess of riches — A pas-de-seul — The skeleton in the tree — Disagreeable acquaintances.

Letter XIX. Thursday Island. — Sea-sick— A splendid farewell 145

Chapter XII

Letter XX. Somerset. — H.M.S. Albatross — Off Murray Island — A warm welcome — -An unforgettable day — “No good for food” — Sardines and sharks — Teeming life — The annual feast — Wedding festivities — The women’s privilege — Entertaining companions — Darnley Island — “Dirty Johnstone” — The benefit of not being “flash” — A tasteful trousseau — Stephen Island — York Island . . . . 155

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Chapter I

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Letter I. Auckland. — Wind and Waves — Mount Eden — Flowers in profusion — Russell — Long Island — Whangoroa — The story of the Boyd — Mangonui — A sea of fern trees — Return from the cradle of New Zealand Page 175

Chapter II

Letter II. Whakarewarewa. — Okoroire — “Ten a koe” — Geysers — Waiotapu Valley — A wonderful picture of colour . . .182

Chapter III

Letter III. Ohinemutu. — The story of Hinemoa — How Hatupatu raced the giantess — Tikitere — The Gates of Hades — The Inferno — Tarawera — Tauranga— The Gate Pah disaster — Hauhauism — The evil eya— The valley of the Shadow — A poisonous insect — Flax — Travelling companions — The chief geysers — Wairakei — The Huka Falls — Tongariro and Ruapehu . . . . . . . .188

Chapter IV

Letter IV. Napier. — Arrival at Napier — Memorials of the War — Pipiriki — How passengers land — A kindly couple — Advice to would-be emigrants — A good Governor . . . . . . .201

Chapter V

Letter IV. Napier {coni.) — New Plymouth — At Ferndale — A ride for life — Old friends — Cruelty — Farm life — A subject for an artist — More dear old friends — An unprofitable prophet — Native houses — Miss Dobie’s grave . 209

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Chapter VI

Letter V. Wellington. — Journey to Masterton — A charming garden — Sheep-shearing, physicking, and dipping — The Wellington Museum — The fourth city in the colonies ..... Page 220

Chapter VII

Letter VI. Christchurch. — Picton — A weary coach-ride — Deforesting — Lunch at Canvas Town — Cats and rabbits — The charm of Nelson — Weird beauty — Longford — A land of loveliness — Reefton — Lunch at Greymouth — The Teremakau River — Unpleasant passengers — Impressive scenery — Comfortless quarters — The Lincoln School of Agriculture ... 226

Chapter VIII

Letter VII. Christchurch. — Timaru — The Mackenzie Country — Lake Pukaki — Fording the river — Cliffs of ice — Sliding down the cliff — Back at the Hermitage — Wind and rain — A riding party — Keas — The Tasman glacier — The wild, wonderful beauty of the mountains — A cold swim — A snow-storm — Christchurch — The foremost flower-painter in Australia — Little River — Lyttelton . . . . . . .241

Chapter IX

Letter VIII. Dunedin. — A railway ride — A busy city — Kingstown — Magnificent mountain scenery — Rabbits, rabbits everywhere — A gloomy passenger — Through Purgatory to Paradise — Gold-mining — Tame birds — The German doctor — Back at Dunedin — The growth of wealth — A land of olive and honey ...... 253

ILLUSTRATIONS

“ The Rocks,” Pioneer River, Mackay Queensland Cotton Tree (Coloured Plate)

Jungle on the Pioneer River Floods on the Herbert River Hambleton — Cairns ....

A CORROBOREE

“A nice Smash-up” .

Fording the River ....

COOKTOWN AND ENDEAVOUR RlVER

Suspense ......

Thursday Island, Bird’s-eye View of the Town Dugong and Turtles Mr. Jardine’s House, Somerset Interior of “Old Ben’s” House .

Lake Rotorua from Tikitere The Waikato River at Ateamuri Pandanus or Corkscrew Pine Queensland Blue Water-Lilies • .

Map of Queensland, showing Author’s Route

. Frontispiece to face page xvi

JS 14

„ 28

» 40

» 44

35 70

„ 78

„ 100

„ 108

» 134

,, 142

. page 154 to face page 168

» 192

» 198

„ 240

5, 256

j, afthe end.

FLOWER OF THE Queensland cotton tree (a specimen of Cochl iospermum ). J SCALE.

PART I

Chapter I

Letter I. Rockhampton. — On a sea of glass — In the mountains to Towoomba — A fine view — A kangaroo-hunt — Art and discomfort on the s.s. Maranoa — Rockhampton — On the road — Wild cattle — Mount Morgan Mine — The Murray Lagoon — Mackay — “The Rocks” — A glorious view — Snakes — Rest.

Rockhampton, Queensland.

We are at last really on our way to Thursday Island. I find that a steamer leaves here for the South early to-morrow, so if my letter is rather disjointed and shaky, you must put it down to my sea journey ; for you know as of old that “ a life on the ocean wave ” is about the last that I would choose. I cannot, however, grumble, for, so far, we have sailed on a sea of glass for days — not even a ripple upon the water — and I have been dreaming the sunny days away, while we skimmed past the numerous islands, too lazy even to read or to do anything but watch the sea-birds passing and the porpoises chasing each other ; now and then a turtle basked on the top of the water, or a black and yellow sea-snake lay coiled asleep, but at the sound of the engine, like a flash, it disappeared. Then there was the endless amusement of silently studying one’s fellowpassengers — the lucky digger with his universal “ shouts” to all on board, the woman with the ubiquitous infant, the fussy old party whom nothing satisfies, the new

CHAP.

chum with his innumerable questions and insatiable desire for information, and, best of all, two bright unaffected Australian girls, whose hospitable father has already asked me to break my journey at their station.

But, “ Not so quick,” I hear you say ; “ I left you last in Brisbane, planning a trip to Thursday Island.” Very well, I will begin at the beginning. My month’s visit to Mr. Casey’s station at Normanby had made “such a man of me ” that I was ready for anything and everything, and when at last you managed reluctantly to say “ yes,” and pretended you meant it, I was more than content. We left Brisbane on the 3rd, after having spent a very pleasant ten days there, as usual turning two days into one. Our trip in the mountains to Towoomba, the sanatorium of the town, gave us enough cool air to double our energies. Eric and I made another trip to One Tree Hill, where he hunted butterflies and I flowers. There is a magnificent panoramic view from the top, of the whole town and its surroundings. To the south lies the great dividing range between Queensland and New South Wales, and far away in blue misty distance one can see the outline of Moreton Bay, and the long reaches of the river winding its way to the sea. Another excursion which we made was to the Enoggera Reservoir, ten miles from the town, a beautiful drive the whole way. The lake itself is a very picturesque one, with surroundings of semi-tropical vegetation ; Eric, boy-like, managed to tumble in ; he rather enjoyed the fun of a ducking, and my discomfiture in fearing he might be drowned.

Last, but not least, I must not forget to give you a description of the exciting kangaroo -hunt that was arranged for me one day before I left Brisbane. We

went by train the night before to Mr. ’s station,

and we were a goodly muster as we all drew up at the i A KANGAROO-HUNT 5

stockyard gates at 1 1 that bright morning, with just touch enough of frost in the air to redden our cheeks and our noses. There was plenty of muscle and go in the horses ; each man was on his finest jumper, each lady on hers. Eric, who joined in the fun, rode on the pony “ Paddy ” beside my grey mare. After handshakes and greetings as much as our fretting horses would allow, we were off and away, ambling, trotting, cantering, spreading, and driving, as we bore to the left, then on to the fern and over the brow of the hill, where soon, with a shrill chorus, the dogs spoke to a find ; we halted for a second as five or six kangaroos scattered in front of us, turning in a dazed way from right to left, as they dodged in such close quarters among us that with the butt-end of his whip a horseman knocked one over, then the hounds bend and falter, doubling back and landing another with a scrimmage on his back on the ground ; now up the hill and away like the wind the rest go, clearing yards at a bound ; through the thick fern we steeplechase over logs, squeezing, dodging, crashing in and out of the gums, then “ for’ard ” on the wide sweep of the valley to a bit of galloping ground, where, with desperate speed, “ long, limber, and grey,” the hounds in full cry flash past ; the kangaroos, leaping ten yards at a stretch, disappear ; with the sun and wind in our faces, with wild halloas from every side, and a chorus of “ hold ups,” we swish through a swamp ; a fallen branch and a stumble, and Paddy is on his nose, but before we have time to dismount, both pony and rider are up again, and away now, with snap and crash, cheating falls we dodge through a network of saplings and flying logs. Neck to neck the horses rattle their hoofs through the fern, a yelping sound, a cracking of whips, then a mass of draggled

CHAP.

fur and the last two six-footers clear the fence and make for the edge of the swamp ; — a crashing and splitting of timber, a critical moment, some meet their fate on the ground ; with bold hearts, strong muscles and luck others are over, and Paddy is “ in at the death ” ; but I can’t look where, clasping, gripping, and tearing at the dogs with his strong hind legs, one kangaroo stands at bay in the water, fighting tooth and nail for life.

My last afternoon I spent at the Acclimatisation Society Gardens, where they have a splendid collection of native plants. Mr. Soutter, the curator, a most enthusiastic botanist, .gave me an armful of tropical flowers, some of which I sat up painting until well into daylight next morning — how shocked you would have been at my burning the candle at both ends l After wishing Eric good-bye, and handing him over into safe custody for the overland journey by train back to Sydney, I drove down to catch my steamer, the Maranoa . My cabin was already filled with flowers, and there and then, between my qualms of sea-sickness, I painted some of them in.

It was a glorious moonlight night, and the phosphorescent waves lapping against the ship’s side and sending out live flashes of fire, kept me so fascinated by their beauty, that it was eleven o’clock before I stirred to go below. Just outside my cabin door two men were discussing, in rather loud tones, the merits and demerits of Mr. Tyson, the richest man in Australia. Then followed an animated conversation between two circus men travelling with a “ show ” ; they were relating their experiences, and I was unwillingly let into some of the secrets of the trade. I learned how the boa -constrictor, when he was dead, was carried backwards and forwards to the different colonies stuffed

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COMFORTLESS QUARTERS with tobacco and cigars, how the mermaid was “ built up ” out of the monkey and fish’s tail, and how the Chinaman whom they wanted to prepare as a New Guinea mummy wouldn’t die, and eventually “ spited ” them by getting well. With their voices still jingling in my ears I fell asleep, and did not awake until I heard the engines stop, the shrill whistle ring out, and the rattling of the anchor going down at three next morning. Then we were unceremoniously bundled out of our berths, and had to sit waiting for two hours more in the stuffy, dimly-lighted saloon for the tender which was to take us up to the town. We were a draggled and limp-looking set of beings when she finally started. I rolled myself into a berth and tried to get some more sleep, but some one in the berth below me snored so lustily that this was impossible, and something running over my face brought visions of cockroaches, which grow to an alarming size along this coast, so, wrapping round me my sealskin cloak, which I was most thankful you insisted on my bringing, I went on deck, where they gave us coffee while we sat and watched the cold grey dawn of the morning break as we steamed up the bends of the flat, uninteresting river.

We passed the central works of the Queensland Preserving and Refrigerating Company, and saw droves of cattle on their way, and I was not sorry when we came to the end of our thirty-five mile journey. We reached Rockhampton at nine, — a two minutes’ drive to the Criterion Hotel, breakfast, with plenty of good, unwatered milk, a bath, and all our morning’s discomforts were forgotten. Here, to my astonishment, I met Mr. A. in the breakfast-room, and, later on, several other friends, so we hired a trap and did the lions of the town together.

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We drove first to the Crescent lagoon, two miles away, on the top of the Athelstone Range, where the water is pumped into an artificial reservoir to supply the town, then round about the streets, which are broad and well planted with trees. The town is flat and lies very low, and I am glad that my visit is in spring instead of in the summer, for the crisp air now is just warm enough to be pleasant and the sky absolutely cloudless. We bought books, sugar-plums, and papers, and I dined in the evening with Mrs. P., whose husband is lucky enough to own many thousands of shares in the Mount Morgan Mine. Of course I went to see it ; who does not ? and thoroughly enjoyed the twenty-five-mile drive, notwithstanding the roughness of the road ; for the last nine miles it was very break-neck work, and our leader (we had three horses) had a pleasant way of turning round and facing us just at the most critical moments, to see how we were taking things. We were taking them very badly ; for Mrs. P., who kindly drove me there, was even more nervous than I was. At the Razorback Hill we came upon the body of a smashed coach, then a pair of wheels, and finally the top part of the “ Royal Mail Coach ” itself. The drive from the railway station — eight miles — is generally taken in this coach, and we heartily congratulated ourselves that we had not joined it that time.

We passed more and larger teams of horses and bullocks than I had ever seen before. Driving the former seems warranted to produce more strong language than any other occupation going, judging from the snatches that we quickly got in passing. Twenty-eight bullocks or seventeen or eighteen horses were not unusual numbers in one team. The sight of a mob of wild cattle farther on crossing a swollen stream, the roaring and bellowing, the tossing forest of horns above the heaving mass of

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MOUNT MORGAN beasts and the cracking of stock-whips, as the riders pressed them forward, shouting and urging them on, took me back to the old station life. How angrily they looked at us, tossing their shaggy heads ; how they plunged and snorted, and then, with dripping sides and reddened nostrils, eyed us defiantly from the other side of the stream, as if we had been the cause of all their woes. But let them toss their heads, for we are now over the shallow crossing, which in winter time has been the camping-ground of many a broken-down, mud-stuck waggon, and where not a few bones of wretched animals have been left behind, bleaching in the sun and rain.

The first glimpse of Mount Morgan gives one the idea of a huge red landslip, for the top has all been quarried away. Suddenly, numerous chimneys and the scattered bandbox-looking town come into sight. A quick sweep round the Chinamen’s gardens and we are in front of the pretty cottage occupied by the manager of the famous mine, where, after our long drive, we do full justice to a sumptuous lunch. An hour’s rest afterwards and we start for the mine, partly walking, but doing the steepest bits in trollies. Everything wears the busiest of airs, everything is in motion, and we see all that is to be seen, even to the bars of precious metal ready for the escort to take into town. Candles in hand, we go through the tunnels of white pipeclay, one after another. Enough of this clay is in sight, they say, to last for seven years, giving all round 2 oz. to the ton. Then we go on to the top, where the men just now are busy blasting, and we have to hide ourselves for a minute or two until the explosion is over and the blackened, bubbly, burnt-up looking stuff is exposed, which gives, we are told, sometimes 20 and 30 oz. to the ton. The bright yellow-looking clay just beside it is richer still, while other stuff close alongside yields

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nothing at all, and so they go on in a delightful state of uncertainty as to what is coming next.

Twelve hundred men are employed in the mine, and it costs from £8000 to £10,000 a month to work the whole concern, but even with this large amount for expenses the mine has, in seven years or less, paid two and a half million pounds in dividends.

We left early next morning again and reached Rockhampton in time for lunch. I drove to the Botanical Gardens on the Murray Lagoon in the afternoon, to see the native lilies there in full blossom, blue, white, yellow, and pink, the latter a lotus : some of them being as large as a cheese-plate. Numbers of big dragonflies were skimming over the surface of the water, and several small birds near us were turning over the lily-leaves hunting for insects. Two large grey cranes peered at us through the rushes, and there were dozens of wild ducks looking quite at home and secure in the knowledge that here they are not allowed to be shot. We finished up our day in a garden on the other side of the river, almost entirely filled with native plants, and had our afternoon tea under the shade of a jujuba tree with the golden yellow fruit hanging in bunches everywhere, and we came home laden with enough new flowers to keep me contented for a week.

The Criterion is a capital hotel, prettily situated on the bank of the Fitzroy River, and I was most comfortable there. Mrs. Eaton, the hostess, was kindness itself and couldn’t do enough for us, and the ever-smiling Bridget was ready to wait upon me day and night. She even went so far as to cut the stems of my flowers each day to keep them fresher, a piece of thoughtful devotion I did not forget. “You’re never idle, mum,” and “You’ll wear yourself out entoirely,” she was always saying, but I felt fresh again, and ready for anything,

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A LEAKY BOAT ii notwithstanding the remark which a passenger made on board, that I looked as if I had been through one famine and was half-way through another. But who could fail to get well in such a winter climate ?

From Rockhampton I caught the Wodonga to Mackay, and what a difference from the Maranoa ; she is a large, comfortable steamer, and I found myself in a cabin with a handsome, fresh-looking English girl, going to join her husband at Townsville. He is taking up land in the far north, and I cannot help thinking how soon her roses will fade, and how little she knows of the life she is going to.

The next morning we reached Mackay, but were too late to catch the tide, and could not steam up the Pioneer River, there are so many sandbanks at its mouth. The pilot, who is also the harbour-master, offered me a seat in his boat, up to the town. There were a good many of us in her, and she began to leak so badly that we had to get on to a tender anchored near and wait until she was baled out : then into her again, and for five weary miles these poor men had to row us against wind and tide, under a hot tropical sun — every now and then having to stop and bale out again to keep us from sinking altogether.

We were exceedingly glad to find ourselves on dry land at last The town of Mackay is small, flat and uninteresting, but there are a great many sugar plantations round it, and now that this industry has taken a new lease of life it will probably become an important town. The first person who greeted us was a Kanaka, paddling a small boat (these are the people who are mostly employed on the plantations). The next scene we came upon was a man trying to drive a buck-jumping horse in a cart, a novel sort of amusement of which we never saw the end, for we had to hurry on.

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The vegetation along the roads was thoroughly tropical, quantities of bananas and several South Sea Island plants were growing wild, and a Mexican fruit called papaw, the milky juice of which is said to be a great specific for diphtheria.

At Mackay, Mr. R. met me and drove me to “ The Rocks.” On both sides of the road were sugar-cane plantations, and I saw numbers of creeping plants in blossom which were quite new to me. We stopped half-way for tea with Mr. and Mrs. K. — such a pretty bungalow house theirs was — and the climbing plants over it, in full blossom, were a sight not easily forgotten ; an old grey stump of a tree was one glorious mass of crimson bougainvilleas, against a background of forest jungle, almost as beautiful as that at Colombo. The house inside was so like an Indian bungalow that it was hard to realise that it was not one. It was half- past five before we reached our destination, and until we were actually in through the garden gate, I did not know what a view awaited me. At the foot of a hill on which the house stands runs the winding river, the Pioneer. It eddies round great rocks (from which the house takes its name) and small islands, just now splendid with the crimson flowers of the bottle brush ; — then it tosses and tumbles away into the distance over the stones, with a fall here, another there, and again plunges or glides into deep pools, the homes of alligators, which occasionally come out to bask upon its sandy banks. On the opposite shore there is a wonderfully varied bit of jungle, and far away in the distance are ranges of blue mountains.

The wide verandah is furnished with easy -chairs, comfortable lounges, cushions, books, tables, and nicknacks ; everything is left there at night, and the doors and windows are never shut. There is a great chattering

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A BEAUTIFUL GARDEN of birds from the aviary, and a magpie struts along the verandah and calls for Rover, the dog. Outside, on a stand, there is a young eagle who likes fresh food every day, and requires a hunter to himself to keep his appetite satisfied. Several other tame birds run loose about the garden. Six months ago a pet curlew disappeared. At the commencement of the spring he suddenly appeared again, accompanied by a wife, and came as usual into the verandah to be fed ; his little mate at first kept at a safe distance, but by degrees she too gained confidence and became even tamer than the other ; as the summer advanced, they both disappeared again, probably to return in the spring.