Missing Friends: Being the Adventures of a Danish Emigrant in Queensland (1871-1880)Weitemeyer, Thorvald Peter Ludwig
History
Missing Friends: Being the Adventures of a Danish Emigrant in Queensland (1871-1880)
Weitemeyer, Thorvald Peter Ludwig
Queensland -- Description and travel
he, and as the day went on I kept walking in the river and trying it
with a long pole to find the shallowest place. The current was very
strong, but the water was falling fast, and tired out by my companion's
lamentations and the whole misery of the situation, I told him that we
would a couple of hours before sundown try to cross the river or die. It
was a dangerous undertaking, because not only was the water still very
deep, and I had only a general idea of it being fordable, but the
current was so strong that I did not know whether I should be able to
keep on my feet when I came to the deepest part. First of all I wrote a
few words in pencil to the manager of the bank in which I had my money,
telling him what to do with my account in case I should not claim it.
After having put it into an envelope, because I always carried these
things, I gave it to my fellow-traveller, and without letting him know
what it contained, exacted from him a promise that he should post it in
case I got drowned. It was the least he could do certainly, because as a
reward I said he might have all the rest of my belongings, always
supposing, of course, that I should have no further use for them. Then I
helped him on to the horse, and told him just to sit still until he saw
me safe on the other side, and that the horse would come to me when I
called it as long as he did not pull it about. Having done all this, I
took off all my clothes and strapped them on to the pack-saddle, and
lifted the whole burden on to my head so as to give me extra weight. I
also got a pole about fifteen feet in length to stand against, and then
I faced the river. The river was not very broad--I should say about
three chains. From the side where I was it gradually sloped towards its
deepest part which was near the other side, and there was at least one
chain in width where I did not exactly know the depth more than that
the horse so far had had to swim across earlier in the day when I had
tried it. The river was still falling every hour, and I was determined
for both of us to get across then. I waded into the water, and it all
went well until I came to the middle. Somehow I thought I must have got
to shallower ground than where I had tried it before. The water rushed
round my sides, and every time I had to lift the pole and put it forward
it took me all my strength to do it. The last step forward had brought
me into still deeper water, and my strength seemed exhausted--perhaps it
would be more correct to say that to hold the pole in position and keep
myself on my feet demanded as much force as I ever had. I seemed to
stand dancing on the top of the big toe while I could feel with the
other foot that it was still deeper in front of me. I pressed on the
pole to keep me down, but I felt that I had neither strength nor pluck
enough to shift it either forwards or backwards, nor even to keep
standing where I was very long. Yet how tantalizing; in front of me,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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