One day whilst Yamba and I were passing through one of those eternal regions of sand-hills and spinifex which are the despair of the Australian explorer, I suddenly saw in the distance what I was certain was A FLOCK OF SHEEP.There they were apparently--scores of them, browsing calmly in a depression in a fertile patch where most probably water existed.
In an instant the old desire to return to civilisation, which I had thought buried long ago, reasserted itself, and I dashed forward at full speed yelling back to Yamba, "Sheep, sheep--where sheep are, men are.Civilisation at last!" When at length I had got near enough for the creatures to notice me, you may imagine my disgust and disappointment when quite a little forest of tall heads went high into the air, and A FLOCK OF EMUS raced off across the country at full speed.These huge birds had had their heads down feeding, and not unnaturally, in the distance, I had mistaken them for sheep.
I think every one is aware that prolonged droughts are of very common occurrence in Central Australia, and are mainly responsible for the migratory habits of the aborigines--particularly those of the remote deserts in the interior.The most terrible drought Imyself experienced whilst in my mountain home was one that extended over three years, when even the lagoon in front of my dwelling, which I had thought practically inexhaustible, dried up, with the most appalling results.Just think--never a drop of rain falling for over three long years, with a scorching sun darting down its rays almost every day! During this terrible period the only moisture the parched earth received was in the form of the heavy dews that descended in the night.Even these, however, only benefited the vegetation where any continued to exist, and did not contribute in the slightest degree to the natural water supply so necessary for the sustenance of human and animal life.The results were terrible to witness.Kangaroos and snakes; emus and cockatoos; lizards and rats--all lay about either dead or dying;and in the case of animals who had survived, they seemed no longer to fear their natural enemy, man.
Day by day as I saw my lagoon grow gradually smaller, I felt that unless I took some steps to ensure a more permanent supply, my people must inevitably perish, and I with them.Naturally enough, they looked to me to do something for them, and provide some relief from the effects of the most terrible drought which even they had ever experienced.Almost daily discouraging reports were brought to me regarding the drying up of all the better-known water-holes all round the country, and I was at length obliged to invite all and sundry to use my own all but exhausted lagoon.At length things became so threatening that I decided to sink a well.
Choosing a likely spot near the foot of a precipitous hill, I set to work with only Yamba as my assistant.Confidently anticipating the best results, I erected a crude kind of windlass, and fitted it with a green-hide rope and a bucket made by scooping out a section of a tree.My digging implements consisted solely of a home-made wooden spade and a stone pick.Yamba manipulated the windlass, lowering and raising the bucket and disposing of the gravel which Isent to the surface, with the dexterity of a practised navvy.What with the heat, the scarcity of water, and the fact that not one of the natives could be relied upon to do an hour's work, it was a terribly slow and wearying business; but Yamba and I stuck to it doggedly day after day.
At the end of a week I had sunk a narrow shaft to a depth of twelve or fourteen feet, and then to my infinite satisfaction saw every indication that water was to be found a little lower down.In the course of the following week I hit upon a spring, and then I felt amply rewarded for all the trouble I had taken.Even when the lagoon was perfectly dry, and only its parched sandy bed to be seen, the supply from our little well continued undiminished; and it proved more than enough for our wants during the whole of the drought.I even ventured to provide the distressed birds and animals with some means of quenching their insupportable thirst.Afew yards from the well I constructed a large wooden trough, which I kept filled with water; and each day it was visited by the most extraordinary flocks of birds of every size and variety of plumage--from emus down to what looked like humming-birds.Huge snakes, ten and fifteen feet long, bustled the kangaroos away from the life-giving trough; and occasionally the crowd would be so excessive that some of the poor creatures would have to wait hours before their thirst was satisfied,--and even die on the outer fringe of the waiting throng.I remember that even at the time the scene struck me as an amazing and unprecedented one, for there was I doing my best to regulate the traffic, so to speak, sending away the birds and animals and reptiles whose wants had been satisfied, and bringing skins full of water to those who had fallen down from exhaustion, and were in a fair way to die.As a rule, the creatures took no notice whatever of me, but seemed to realise in some instinctive way that I was their benefactor.Of course I had to cover over the top of the well itself, otherwise it would have been simply swamped with the carcasses of eager animals and birds.
But, it may be asked, why did I take the trouble to supply everything that walked and flew and crawled with water when water was so precious? A moment's thought will furnish the answer.If Isuffered all the animals, birds, and reptiles to die, I myself would be without food, and then my last state would be considerably worse than the first.
I think the snakes were the most ungrateful creatures of all.
