Australia Twice Traversed: The Romance of Exploration, Being a Narrative Compiled from the Journals of Five Exploring Expeditions into and Through Central South Australia and Western Australia, from 1872 to 1876Giles, Ernest
History
Australia Twice Traversed: The Romance of Exploration, Being a Narrative Compiled from the Journals of Five Exploring Expeditions into and Through Central South Australia and Western Australia, from 1872 to 1876
Giles, Ernest
Australia -- Discovery and exploration
soil, and the thick and bushy spinifex, we could make but poor headway
in following the single track, and it was only by one of us walking
while the other brought on the horses, that we could keep the track at
all. Although we did not halt during the whole day, we had not been
able to track him by night more than thirteen miles. Up to this point
there was evidently no diminution of the powers of the animal he
bestrode. We camped upon the tracks the fourth night without water, it
being impossible to follow in the moonlight. We gave our horses all
our remaining stock of water.
We began to see that our chance of finding the remains of our lost
companion was very slight. I was sorry to think that the unfortunate
man's last sensible moments must have been embittered by the thought
that, as he had lost himself in the capacity of a messenger for my
relief, I too must necessarily fall a victim to his mishap.
I called this terrible region that lies between the Rawlinson Range
and the next permanent water that may eventually be found to the west,
Gibson's Desert, after this first white victim to its horrors.
Gibson, having had my horse, rode away in my saddle with my field
glasses attached; but everything was gone--man and horse alike
swallowed in this remorseless desert. The weather was cool at night,
even cold, for which I was most thankful, or we could not have
remained so long away from water. We consulted together, and could
only agree that unless we came across Gibson's remains by mid-day, we
must of necessity retreat, otherwise it would be at the loss of fresh
lives, human and equine, for as he was mounted on so excellent an
animal as the Fair Maid, on account of whose excellence I had chosen
her to ride, it seemed quite evident that this noble creature had
carried him only too well, and had been literally ridden to death,
having carried her rider too far from water ever to return, even if he
had known where it lay. What actual distance she had carried him, of
course it was impossible to say; going so persistently in the wrong
direction, he was simply hastening on to perish. I felt more at ease
walking along the track than riding. We could only go slowly, mile
after mile, rising sand-ridge after sand-ridge, until twelve o'clock,
not having been able to trace him more than seven or eight miles since
morning. We could not reach the Circus by night, for we were nearly
fifty miles from it, and in all probability we should get no water
there when we returned. We had to abandon any further attempt. The
mare had carried him God knows where, and we had to desist from our
melancholy and unsuccessful search. Ah! who can tell his place of
rest, far in the mulga's shade? or where his drooping courser, bending
low, all feebly foaming fell? I may here remark, that when we
relinquished the search, Gibson's tracks were going in the direction
of, though not straight to, the dry ridges that Jimmy and I visited in
February.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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