Diary of ten years eventful life of an early settler in Western Australia and also A descriptive vocabulary of the language of the aborigines

Front matter

DIARY OF TEN YEARS EVENTFUL LIFE OF AN EARLY SETTLER IN WESTERN AUSTRALIA; AND ALSO A DESCRIPTIVE VOCABULARY OF THE Language of the Aborigines.

BY GEORGE FLETCHER MOORE, B.L., Member of the Irish Bar. Advocate General. Sole Judge of the First Civil Court. Acting Colonial Secretary for a time. And ex officio an Honourable Member both of the Executive and Legislative Councils of the Colony.

LONDON: M. WALBROOK, 180, BROMPTON ROAD, S.W.

Think of me

THINK OF ME.

FAREWELL LINES

ADDRESSED TO MY SISTERS ON LEAVING HOME TO EMIGRATE TO WESTERN AUSTRALIA.

Think of me, when first the sun Paints with gold the Eastern sky, And when his daily course has run, Remember me, and think me nigh.

Morn will bring to mind our meetings, Cheerful looks and spirits light, Eve, our late protracted greetings, As we whispered a "Good night."

And when, in sacred hour of prayer, Blessings are asked on bended knee, Give, of that hour, sufficient share, To ask a blessing too, on me.

Then, though to the world be given, All that you may, of mirth and glee, I shall be sure that next to Heaven, And Heavenly things, you think of me.

G. F. MOORE.

May, 1830.

Preface

PREFACE:

INTRODUCTORY AND EXPLANATORY.

In the year 1828, the British Government being anxious, for political reasons, to establish a colony on the West side of Australia, issued public notices, offering large tracts of land, on certain conditions, to any who would proceed to, and settle on, that district before the end of the year 1830. Attracted by the hope of obtaining possession of a good estate, and feeling that the prospect of success at the Irish Bar was but remote and uncertain, I applied to the Government on the subject of some official appointment, if I should go to the Colony as an emigrant. The answer was to the effect, that any appointment made here now might clash with the proceedings of Governor Stirling; but if I chose to go out at my own risk and expense, they would give me a favourable letter of introduction to the Governor. On this encouragement, I made up my mind to go at once.

My friends were doubtful as to the prudence of such a hazardous step, but I reconciled them to it by a solemn promise that I would keep them fully informed, by each available opportunity in my power, of every incident and circumstance of my position and life there, whether good or bad, and leave them to judge of my success or failure. This was the cause of the "Diary or Journal" hereinafter contained. It was written solely for the information and satisfaction of my father, brothers, sisters, and immediate friends in this country. It was commenced soon after my embarcation from Dublin, and was a great source of relief and consolation to myself during the voyage, as well as through all the difficulties, dangers, labours, and eventful incidents, for the space of ten years in the colony, until my first return home on leave of absence. It was not continued after that time.

Having mentioned that the acquisition of substantial property in the shape of land was a great inducement to my emigration, it is right to mention the result. On giving a schedule, and satisfactory proof of the value of the property, and the number of servants taken out, an assignment of 12,000 acres, or rather a right to choose that quantity of rural land, was given to me, which was eventually obtained in various blocks and in different places according to my own choice. There was considerable delay in getting the blocks surveyed and the boundaries marked out, and registered in, the records of the office of the Surveyor-General. I purchased also from time to time several blocks of land from settlers, who either preferred the money, or were desirous of leaving the colony for various reasons. The result was that when I came home finally, some twenty years ago, I was, and still am, the possessor of twenty-four thousand acres of land in fee simple, as well as several allotments in towns. I became the first Judge in a Civil Court, was member of both the Executive and Legislative Councils, Advocate-General, and sole legal adviser of the Government, acted temporarily as Colonial Secretary, because of the illness and death of that officer, and the illness and death of Governor Clarke about the same time.

The history of the original letters may possess some little interest. They were from the first carefully preserved by those to whom they were sent in this country. But, after the lapse of many years, they were confided to the care of a near relative in the colony, who had expressed a great desire to see them. This lady was well acquainted with Sir Thomas Cockburn Campbell, the able Editor and owner of the paper called "The West Australian." The letters were shown to him, he begged to be permitted to publish extracts from them seriatim in his paper, according as space would admit of. He sent to me a copy of each paper which contained an extract. I cut out those extracts and gummed them into an album. This has enabled me to publish them all here afresh.

I have also added to them a "Descriptive Vocabulary" of the language of the Aborigines—their habits and manners, and the fauna of the country. The only restriction I put upon Sir Thomas as to the treatment of the journal was, that he should omit anything too trivial for publication, and also carefully avoid anything that could in the least degree be likely to annoy, or hurt the feelings of, any one, either in the colony or in this country—an injunction which he has most judiciously observed and most honourably carried out. I introduce here one of his letters to me as being appropriate to the subject.

Copy of a letter from Sir T. Cockburn Campbell.

-

My Dear Sir,

Many thanks for your kind letter. I have had great pleasure in publishing your journal, and I can assure you it is read with very great interest indeed. There has been a break in its publication lately on account of my space in the "W. A." being so filled with Council reports, but I shall resume the journal again next week. What terrible times you early settlers had to pass through. It is difficult to imagine it now, in a conntry with railways, telegraphs, &c., and so many of the conveniencies of modern life.

Believe me, my dear Sir,

Faithfully yours,

T. COCKBURN CAMPBELL.

George Fletcher Moore, Esq.

So far as regards the winding up of the Journal, I could not desire a better than the gratifying commentary of the EDITOR of the West Australian, to whom I tender thanks for the interest he took in it, and the judicious care he bestowed on its publication in his paper. On my part, I have to render my humble thanks to the Heavenly Giver of all Good, that at the ripe period of an eighty-sixth year, I should be permitted to undertake, and enabled, as I hope, to complete the work of its publication, 54 years after its commencement.

With reference to the "Descriptive Vocabulary" which has been added to it, the appropriate Preface thereof speaks fully for itself. It was put into my hands in a very crude state by Governor Hutt, that I should get it published in England. I had been called home on serious family business. There was no direct conveyance; I had to go by Java, had a long voyage in a Dutch ship—the captain alone had a small smattering of English. To relieve the tediousness of such a voyage, I devoted my leisure to the manuscript, added to, enlarged, expanded, and made it what it is. So, though only one of the few parties connected with the former attempts, I might fairly and truly use the familiar expression, "Quorum pars magna fui."

I made all arrangements for the printing, corrected the press, made terms for the binding, advanced and paid all attendant expenses, had the books carefully packed in a well-tinned chest, which I took back to Governor Hutt, and divided them equally with him. This was in accordance with a previous understanding between us, that on my doing so he would pay half the expenses, which he cheerfully did. That work has been long out of print. It concerns a race which is gradually dwindling away, and may soon be entirely extinct—its language corrupted, disused, forgotten, lost. It is well to endeavour to make a small record of it whilst there is a possibility of doing so. Such is one chief object of the present attempt; may it have the desired effect. The Aborigines, when we first came in contact with them, had no knowledge of a God, no worship, no object of worship, no ideas on the subject. Many efforts were made to civilize and to Christianize them. The Wesleyans made some tolerable progress with them, but sedentary habits did not suit either their health or dispositions—a violent disorder of the mesenteric glands suddenly carried off thirteen of their most promising pupils, and the school was broken up at that time. Some 40 years ago a Mission of Spanish Benedictine Monks was established in the Colony for the avowed purpose of the conversion of the Aboriginal natives. They gathered the children, both boys and girls, into the schools together, and when they came to marriageable age, such children were joined in pairs according to their choice, by a form of matrimony.

All these young people, at suitable ages, were brought forward for confirmation. About ten years ago, a grand ceremony was that of an unusual number of these young natives, collected on such an occasion, a photograph of which, taken at the time, has been shown to me in London.

It is right to explain the singular concatenation of circumstances by which I found myself compelled to act for a time as Colonial Secretary. His Excellency the Governor (Colonel Clarke) and the Honourable the Colonial Secretary (Peter Brown, Esq.), were simultaneously so prostrated by serious illness as to be incapable of transacting any business; the doctors denied all access except to their nearest friends. How the Government was to be carried on was a grave question. As I had married the Governor's stepdaughter, I was admitted as a friend. I found him greatly depressed and distressed. I offered to discharge the duties of the Colonial Secretary temporarily, getting another to do my duties for the time. The Governor was greatly relieved by the offer. By the permitted interviews at his bedside, I was enabled to use the usual formal heading of letters from the office, such as "I am directed by His Excellency," &c., &c. My first step, as soon as a mail served, was to inform the Government at home of the unprecedented position in which I found myself, and begging their instant attention to it. In due time another Colonial Secretary came out, and I gladly resumed my former positions. Both the Governor and Colonial Secretary died.

I have stepped beyond my strict limits in introducing this episode, but the step was almost unavoidable under the circumstances.

George Fletcher Moore.

(From the "West Australian").

Amongst the earliest settlers in Western Australia was a gentleman well known to old colonists Mr. George Fletcher Moore, late Advocate-General of the colony, who for many years past has been resident in England.

Mr. Moore, from his first arrival at Fremantle in 1830, kept a diary–recording the events of his daily life–which, as opportunity occurred, he sent home to his friends. This diary, full of details of the greatest interest to all West Australian colonists, most graphically illustrates the early life and progress of the Swan River settlement. Of Mr. Moore's letters, those written prior to 1834 were published in England, but have long been out of print, and, with the remainder, which carry on the record of events to a much later date, are now in the hands of his relatives in this colony. These letter-diaries seemed to us of so much interest that we asked, and were kindly granted, permission to publish them serially in the West Australian.

The voyage

THE VOYAGE.

Dear Brother,

Exhausted with sleeplessness and agitation, I threw myself into my berth soon after you and my dear father left me, still indulging a hope of seeing you on board once more before sailing. On awaking from long and painful slumber, disturbed by a confusion of all imaginable noises, I found that a steamer had taken us out of the harbour in the course of the night, and that we were at a considerable distance from land. The reflection then crossed me, that I was for the first time separated from my family and friends,

"Quæro alio patriam sub sole jacentem;"

and placed as it were, alone on the ocean of life to steer my own way, and depend on my single efforts, without the friendly hand of the dear parent, who had hitherto been my guide and companion–the "custos incorruptissimus"–without the interchange of fraternal love, and with the heavy responsibility of having embarked four others in my service and speculations, for whose welfare of mind and body I feel myself accountable; under all these anxious thoughts and considerations, I prayed to God, the only source of calmness and of comfort, to strengthen and support me.

To vary the usual monotony and dulness of the long and painful voyage before me, I shall keep a journal, which, if it ever reach you, will make me present to you all.

Sunday, June 4th, 1830.—In pursuance of a determination, which I had previously formed, never to omit, when practicable, the duties of the Sabbath-day, either at sea or in the land of my destination, I read prayers and a suitable service to my own people; great interruptions, from several causes, occurred, but I persevered, and had the satisfaction of finding that the captain would be pleased at having the service on deck for the advantage of the crew. Wind moderate and favourable, our lat. 46°, lon. 10°, and yet the weather cool. Thermometer only 64°—great talk of being in the latitude of pirates, and consequent cleaning and preparing of all our firearms—saw nothing, however, more terrible than some large porpoises playing about the bows of the vessel. Experienced the want of a filtering machine for our water, which already smells offensively and tastes badly. This is a sad want. It is inexcusable in the captains of vessels to be unprovided with this valuable and unexpensive apparatus, which conduces so much to health and comfort.

July 8th.—Approaching the trade winds; James killed a pig in the evening—quite an event! This same James makes himself very useful in many ways; he takes particular pleasure in feeding our sheep, but whether this taste proceeds from a disinterested benevolence, or from the anticipated enjoyment of good mutton chops, I cannot say.

9th.—A vessel in sight, making signals of distress. Hove to. She sent a boat to us. Proves to be the Patriot, from Benecarlo to Dublin; had been six weeks at sea, sprung a leak, and was kept afloat by incessant exertions at the pump. Her provisions were running short, so that we were obliged to give her a supply of water and biscuit, some coals also, and leather for the pump. Many of us took the opportunity of writing to our friends, as well as the limited time would permit. I wrote a few lines (thought crowding upon thought in the happiest confusion) to my dear father and brother. As the captain of the Patriot did not seem quite sure of his reckoning, we gave it correctly to him; he had two officers on board who wished for newspapers, which unluckily for them and the credit of our philanthropy, we did not share. Being now 16° W. our time is one hour and four minutes later than at Greenwich, each degree making a difference of four minutes. The most perceptible difference in our latitude is the short duration of twilight.

We expect to fall in with the regular S.E. trade wind a few degrees on this (north) side of the line; our course must then be directed towards South Ameria, until this region be traversed, after which we may calculate on variable winds until we shall have reached a more southerly latitude, when westerly winds will prevail again. Remained late on deck in the evening, watching the phosphoric brilliancy which every one has witnessed at sea, and the deep blue of the ocean.

11th.—At four in the morning passed Madeira, lying about twenty-five miles to the east. Most delightful day; wind moderate and steady from the N.E., supposed to be the regular trade wind. Read morning service, and the psalms and lessons for the day, with a sermon; the captain, passengers, and crew, with the exception of two or three, attending in the large cabin–a gratifying and impressive scene. No vessel, no living thing in sight, except a solitary bird, one of Mother Carey's chickens. Ship going at the rate of nine knots, and rolling more than is quite comfortable. Peak of Teneriffe not yet visible. Saw flying fish for the first time. They seemed to spring up from the side of the vessel as if startled, sometimes taking a considerable flight, at other times just touching the waters and then rising again. Occasionally a single one rises, at other times twenty or thirty spring up together. I could not perceive any vibrations in their fins or wings, whichever naturalists please to call them. Most of them are of a silver grey; a few of yellow or gold colour. We are supposed to be now about the tropic. Thermometer 80°. Water miserably bad; even filtering fails to improve it, as one of our passengers, who happens to have a good filtering machine, assures me. The only way to swallow it without disgust is in negus, with plenty of lemon juice.

Saw a pilot fish, which is about the size of a mackerel, with stripes on his side like those of a zebra. I am told that he generally accompanies the shark; the latter, however, did not appear, but towards evening a large shoal of porpoises surrounded the vessel, apparently more for sport than prey, their gambols being of the most comic kind. This night the captain took an observation of the north star; the sky too cloudy to be very accurate. Thermometer 80°. This degree of heat produces in me great languor by day and restlessness by night. Lat. at noon, 18°, 16'. We hope to see Antonio, one of the Cape Verd Islands, to-morrow. The anxiety with which we look for the smallest island is inconceivable to those who have not been exposed for many days to the monotony of time passed on the ocean.

Sunday, 18th.—I officiated as usual for a congregation of about thirty-six persons, apparently interested and attentive to the services of the day. Thermometer 80°, at 2 p.m. This day, for the first time, we saw a shark gliding slowly along, with its fin just above the water's surface, and in his wake followed a great train of what the sailors call Portuguese men of war, and a long shoal of flying fish and bonetas, so that we had something to look at. We are disappointed in our hope of seeing the land of St. Antonio, the weather proving hazy, and there being every indication of our losing the N.E. trade wind, and falling in with the S.W. wind, which prevails about the Cape Verd Islands. The heat at night, thermometer 82°, is very oppressive, so much so, that I can hardly bear even a sheet over me.

19th.—This day has been marked by a fearful accident. We had been all anxiously looking out for fish, and endeavouring to catch men of war by means of buckets, and had just succeeded in capturing one (which I shall describe by and by), when a boy, in the act of throwing out a bucket, became entangled in the rope attached to it, and was dragged overboard. A sailor looking on, instantly jumped into the sea, and by assisting and encouraging the youngster, until a boat was lowered, saved his life. Providentially the day was calm, and the boy had great presence of mind, and swam pretty well, though he had all his clothes on, except his shoes. The brave fellow, who risked his life for the lad, is George Southern, son of a respectable man living at Bray; his amiable and obliging temper had rendered him a general favourite previously to this occurrence, which of course has not lowered him in the scale of estimation. I was in the cabin when the alarm was given, and on reaching deck, George had made such way towards the boy, who sustained himself boldly, that my only apprehension was that the sharks would meet them. If these monsters were in our track, the bustle and noise from the ship, and the appearance of the boat, kept them at a distance;—it was a scene of intense and awful anxiety. May we all give praise where it is due, and may our praises be accepted!

I threatened to describe the man of war:—It consists of a bladder filled with air, from which depend roots or feelers, nearly four feet long. One of the roots of this zoophyte I have now examined with a microscope; it is no thicker than a thread, transparent, and hollow, with many knots or joints from which other minuter fibres extend. After I had handled these fibres, I experienced a prickly sensation like that of needles in my face, on the application of my hand. This I am unable to account for. I have lately acquired the habit of taking a night bath, by having water pumped over me. The time which I have chosen has been about an hour before midnight, in order to obtain cool and refreshing sleep. Last night, after my bath, I remained a long time on deck en chemise, without any inconvenience whatever. Thermometer yesterday, lat. 15° 4', in my sleeping cabin stood at 81°; in the afternoon 85°, and on deck 92° 22'. This day we have had a great addition to our live stock, Poor Lass having presented me with nine puppies, five of which were committed to the deep. I have been obliged to keep four, to gratify the urgent solicitations of some of our passengers; but I fear that the mother has not strength or nutriment sufficient, and milk is a scarce article now on board. The dozen bottles which I had brought with me, boiled, corked, and hermetically sealed, soon became sour; even Poor Lass, for whose accouchement I had kept it, since it proved unfit for her master, refuses to drink it;—tell this to all whom it may concern.

The effects of the heat have been proved on our mutton (the sheep which James killed three days ago being quite offensive, though washed with chloride of lime), and still more lamentably on Poor Lass, who is staggering about, restless and feverish, and half frantic; at one time coming down to my cabin, at another wandering about the deck, as if in search of something, and paying little attention to her young ones; indeed her doing so would be of little service, her milk being gone; I have given her medicine, and whatever else I could think of as possibly serviceable to her.

24th.—Poor Lass is no more. I grieve at her death, for she formed a link of associations with home and its inmates. Oh! how bitter are the thoughts of the exile !

"Every tedious stride I make Will but remember me what a deal of world I wander from the jewels that I love."

How often, and with what intense anxiety, do I contemplate successively the many little memorials of affection and friendship, which are almost always before me! Not only those which you, and my father and sister have given, and which are associated in some way or other with all my occupations, whether praying, reading, writing, marking the progress of time, or preparing for eternity; but those tokens of regard which I have received from comparative strangers. I constantly wear a ring which2gave me just before I came away. Poor fellow! he could scarcely speak, I could not articulate a syllable. I trust before this, his anxious and affectionate heart has found rest and peace in wedded life! I dress every day before a glass belonging to a case given me by Miss T2.

Instances of Mrs. R's kindness are constantly before me. Poor John Maguire (Joseph's old servant), with tears in his eyes, entreated my acceptance of a handsome dark lantern, which he had had for one and twenty years. It is now suspended in my cabin, and my reminiscences revert with as much gratification to this keepsake of poor John's, as to any other that I see around me. Furlong's kindness and attention appear in several marks of his friendship. A cabin lamp, fowling-piece, and pair of pistols, an apparatus for kindling an instantaneous light, are suspended in my cabin; and when I look at these articles, as well as at the books, and many other of his gifts, I am filled with gratitude at his disinterested friendship; but I shall not dwell more upon recollections. I cannot dare to indulge in the "solemn sorrows of suffocating sensibility" as Bridgetina Botherum says, else I should unnerve my mind when it has need of all its fortitude; and yet, my dear brother, I cannot avoid giving you the rythmical produce of my waking thoughts last night, or rather at peep of day this morning, soon after the death of Poor Lass. My melancholy must have vent, aud though there is sad wastry, as Rose Anne would say, as applies to paper, yet, under existing circumstances, I may be allowed to play the fool, if it were only for my beloved sister's sake. She knows when the fit comes on, how hard I find it to resist. Was ever an epitaph on spaniel composed in my present position? Lat. 11°, 12' Here goes:—

Aye! give the body to the deep, That universal grave; There let it sleep the dreamless sleep,— Its mound–an ocean wave. | In losing thee, I've lost a friend, Whose instinct worth, well tried, Could service with affection blend, Though reason was denied. | If thou hadst reach'd the looked for land, I hoped to see thee bound With frolic gambols on the strand, And hail the adopted ground. | I pictured oft thy mute surprise, When (instinct still the same) New climes had shown thy wond'ring eyes Some unaccustomed game. | I thought to see thee at my side, Watch the uplifted gun– Or view thee in thy race of pride– But now thy race is run. | Wakeful guard 'gainst nightly spoil, Companion of the day; Cheerful partner of my toil, Thou'rt call'd, and must obey. | What meant that last, that wistful gaze, When at thy masters' tread, Thy little strength was meant to raise The drooping, dying head? | Was it in hope his essayed skill E'en yet might bring relief ? His power accords not with his will, He could but vent his grief. | Or was it meant as to commend Thy new born young bereft? Could substituted care befriend A progeny thus left? | Th' Equator's sun—weak ill-timed brood! Has drain'd your fountain dry; And here no artificial food Can nature's store supply. | Poor victim of a torrid clime, Where e'en to breathe is pain, Cut off in all thy vigour's prime, Thou'rt gone;—regret is vain. | The wise may think 'tis weak in me, To grieve;—so let it pass: But yet I feel, in losing thee, I've lost a friend—Poor Lass.

Sunday, 25th.–Read church service and a sermon as usual. Robert has absented himself on this and the preceding Sunday, without any good or apparent cause; I must remonstrate;–strongly impressed myself with the many mercies of a kind Providence, and the dependence of His creatures on Him for each moment of their existence, every circumstance of their prosperity, and every hope of future happiness, I consider myself involved in the fate of those who have accompanied me, and bound to confirm them, as far as I am able, in religious principles and observances.

Weather fine, but warm and close; a numerous shoal of porpoises have come rushing towards the ship with great violence. "They are just like sheep sporting in a field," said Letty, and it was not a bad simile for their boundings and gambols; and although it was comical enough to see these animals floundering about, I could not help feeling some alarm on the recollection of an observation Captain Cook makes somewhere in his voyages, "that the playing of porpoises round the ship was a certain indication of an approaching gale;" this remark made by so experienced a seaman was calculated to excite apprehension in a landsman.

25th.—This day has been delicious—one of heavy incessant rain, welcomed by the crew, passengers, and every living animal on board; it is the first heavy rain of any consequence we have had since we sailed, and as our allowance of water has been very limited, we all eagerly prepared for a general ablution of clothes. Letty's obliging temper has been taken full advantage of, every one applying to her in difficulties, and she does everything in her power to accommodate. We have saved much of the rain, and I have bottled a large supply for my own use.

28th.—During the few preceding days, the air has been cool–wind variable, and sometimes foul. A dolphin went off with a line and hook in his stomach this day. I fear that he will suffer from dyspepsia.