A Ghost Visits Lismore
Courtesy of Trove Northern Star 3 September 1938
HISTORICAL NOTES
(By W. J. Stewart McKay)
Hunting for one book, by chance I came across another. It was named “The Ghosts of Piccadilly.” The author walks along in Piccadilly, London, and as he passes famous houses he relates the events that made each particular house noteworthy.
I have often thought that one could make local history more interesting and more vivid, if one made use of a Travelling Ghost that would be made to visit the district to be studied, and who would converse with individuals who had been brought back to life, so that the ghost might question them about their early experiences in that locality. The ghost, for convenience, takes the form of a man, and he is supposed to have a gift of prevision that the individual questioned could not possess, and his prevision will be placed from time to time in brackets to make points clearer. I might here remark that the information supplied has been gathered from many reliable records.
The ghost stood at that spot which was one day to mark the most western part of Woodlark-street. The date was the latter part of 1844. There were to be seen no houses, no roads, no sheep, no cattle. As he stood and gazed at the Richmond River he heard footsteps, and on turning saw close to him a medium-sized man of thirty years with a strong intelligent face, who wore a moustache and side whiskers, and had a clean-shaven chin and who courteously greeted the ghost and inquired what he sought.
PROGRESS MADE?
The ghost replied that he was curious to see what progress this district was making as he had just visited the Big River (The Clarence) and he would be glad for information about the Richmond district.
Mr. Wilson, for it was he, replied that he was very pleased with his new home. He had now been there for over a year, and so far he had little to grumble at. “Just before I came here the whole district was in a sad condition for want of rain, and cattle were so poor that you could buy them for a song; but rain came in June last year and we have had plenty ever since.”
The ghost asked if he was the first to occupy this run.
“The country on this side of the river,” replied Mr. Wilson, “had been in the first instance selected by Mr. Dumaresque, but the Government rule was that if the selection was not “occupied” within a period of six months from the date of selection that it became automatically forfeited. As Dumaresque had not fulfilled the conditions, a Mr. Ward Stephens, who at one time owned the Sydney “Herald” and had sold out to the present proprietors (Kemp and Fairfax), and who had taken up a property named Runnymede, which is some twenty miles west, on the other side of the river, came along and selected this place and sent 10,000 sheep here in charge of an employee. But no house was put up and the shepherd lived in a tent for a time. At first things went right because there was a drought and the place was dry; but after the heavy rain set in the sheep developed fluke and foot-rot and Stephens determined to get rid of the holding. I was told by his agent in Sydney that while the place would not do for sheep it was splendid country for cattle, so I determined to take it from Stephens; I bought him out and came here last year.”
“ANY NEIGHBOURS?”
The ghost then enquired if he had any neighbours and Mr. Wilson replied, “Not on this side of the river, but there are several runs within easy riding distances on the other side to the west,” waving in the direction of the setting sun. Continuing, he said “While however there are no land-owners just about here there are numerous cedar cutters. They have come over from the Big River (The Clarence) because too many cutters have come up from coastal towns and districts (Illawarra) beyond Sydney, and have over crowded the Big River, so it is much easier to get the trees here close to the river. The disadvantage, however, is that the cedar at the Big River was within easy distance of the sea, whereas it is seventy miles by river from here, as I know only too well,” he remarked smiling, “for when I decided in Sydney to take on this property I chartered a brig to bring me to the mouth of the Richmond, and then had the misfortune to get stuck on the bar, and after being hauled off by a bullock team, we crossed into the river. I then had to wait at the settlement there which is called Bullooma (Bulloona, Ballina, Ballinah, Deptford) and have a raft built, and after some weeks we embarked with all our goods; not forgetting a cow that I had purchased. It took us seven weeks to get up, as we had to rely on the tides. I knew I had reached the right spot by the junction of the three streams. After hunting about for a suitable spot we found one about three-quarters of a mile away down on the river bank,” said Mr. Wilson waving his stick towards the south.
The ghost asked him if he had built the house by himself, and he replied “that the cedar cutters were good fellows and had helped him, so that it was soon erected.”
As the ghost and Mr. Wilson continued to talk the former asked “where the cedar getters had their camp?”
“Oh, they are scattered all along the banks of the river and creeks. They put up only simple huts for their licenses do not give them permission to cultivate the land, and the blessed land laws do not allow them to purchase any; and so they never attempt to build a decent house.”
“How do they manage about provisions?” enquired the ghost.
“They dispatch one or more of their number to procure cattle and sheep, which they drive to the camp where they are slaughtered. But more often the meat is brought by pack horses from the settlement at the Falls (Casino), because there is very little feed for cattle along the river banks as the scrub is so dense, and any grass there is must be kept for the bullocks that pull the logs. However, in some localities in the very heart of the scrub there are a few places with good natural grasses for feed, and these spots are called “grasses” (Chilcott’s Grass, Cowlong Grass, Somerville’s Grass).
“This is a favourite locality,” continued Mr. Wilson, “because the cedar-cutters can manage their logs so easily. You observe it is the meeting place of two streams; the one to our right the aboriginals call Moomunna (Boatharbour Creek, afterwards Wilson’s Creek), while the one opposite us (Rosehill Creek, afterwards Leycester Creek), which is made up by three or four smaller creeks entering it a mile or so to the west, is quite a formidable stream in flood time, and the cedar men have christened this locality “The Rope,” because when the logs come down they can stop them easily and sort them out.”
“NO EASY TASK”
“It must be no easy task to get the big logs to the water,” remarked the ghost.
“You are right,” replied Mr. Wilson. “First of all the vines in the scrub have to be cleared away, together with the undergrowth, so as to give the men with the axe room to work. Then the ground where the tree is going to fall has to be cleared; next a scaffold is erected so that the axeman can begin some feet from the ground if the tree is a fine big one, because the man with the axe doesn’t want to cut through the enormous buttress that some of the older trees possess. Then having got the tree to the ground it is cut into logs; and the ends squared for convenience, for stowing when they get them to the vessels down the river. Each log has to be branded so that they may be sorted and chained. Then the real difficult part comes next, for if the tree grows some distance from the stream a track has to be cut through the scrub, some bullocks are then made to pull the log and it is taken to the side of the stream, and there they remain until heavy rain sets in and the stream gets a good current, when all the work ceases and every man helps to get the logs afloat, so that the logs may be carried down to a favourable spot where they are caught by chains stretching across their track. Then when the floodwater subsides, the logs are sorted out and made into rafts, by fastening the logs together. Two men go on each raft; they erect their tents and they have a place where they do their cooking. The rafts are taken along by the tides, but they have to be fastened to the banks when the tide turns. Then they are taken to depots down the river; this spot has now become the favourable collecting place to form the logs into rafts, and consequently I can see that here one day this depot will develop into a settlement, for once the cutters have collected their money they take a holiday, and drink until all their money is used up, so someone will start a pub.”
NECK OF LAND
“If you look up the stream on our right,” said Mr. Wilson, pointing with his stick, “you will see that it appears as though the stream suddenly came to an end, the reason being that there is a turn there that is almost at right angles, for the stream has cut its track round the neck of land (Coleman’s Point), and so has formed a huge horseshoe, and at the spot, that we can see the stream has scooped out the bank and there is a deep pool, and I am sure one day the sailing boats will tie up there (Coleman’s Wharf), to take in the logs for Sydney.”
Pointing to the stream that came in from the west opposite to where they stood (Leycester Creek), Mr. Wilson said, “I row up there sometimes as two of my friends, Shaw and Leycester, have taken a property some miles up, which they have called Tunstall. One of the partners, Shaw is not much good with cattle, and if they look at him he runs for the nearest fence and sits on the top rail and hurls Shakespearian quotations at the offending animals,” said Mr. Wilson laughing.
Then taking the ghost by the arm he invited him to come along to his cottage.
A Ghost Visits Lismore
Courtesy of Trove Northern Star 1 October 1938
HISTORICAL NOTES
(By W. J. Stewart McKay)
Mr. Wilson, accompanied by the Ghost, walked along parallel to the Richmond River. Had not the aborigines, under Mr. Wilson’s direction, formed a road wide enough for a vehicle (Molesworth St.), it would have been almost impossible to have made any progress, for the trees grew so close together, and the undergrowth was so thick and intertwined with tropical vines and creepers, while the leaves that had been brought down from the boughs by the torrential rains of centuries lay rotting everywhere. To have left the road way, always damp from the drip above, would have been impossible, for the vines dangled everywhere, and the long tentacle-like prickly throngs of a cane-like palm (lawyer cane, calamus muelerii) swung in the draughts and caught their clothes, or tore their hands if they tried to ward them off.
After going for a quarter of a mile the dense jungle ceased and they emerged into a more open area quite close to the bank of the river.
Mr. Wilson pointed ahead with his stick and said, “See, yonder is my cottage.”
“You have picked on a nice spot,” remarked the Ghost.
“Yes, we chose it because it was the highest spot close to the river; a settler always likes to be located near his water supply. We have taken the risk of a high flood, but the aborigines said we would be safe.”
Just then a dozen wild duck flying from the south along the course of the river lit on the water.
“Ah, those are the boys,” said Mr. Wilson. “I’m glad I shot half a dozen yesterday; we shall have something for you to eat.”
“Any fish?” inquired the Ghost.
“Yes, good perch, mullet and eels galore.”
At that moment half a dozen parrots flew over their heads, their beautiful colours making a brilliant splash of colour through the air.
THE HOMESTEAD
Soon they were at the fence surrounding the grounds of the cottage. They entered by a gate and going up a slight incline they approached the house; a cottage one end of which faced the west, with a verandah where poles were already entwined with creepers.
As they reached the cottage, Mrs. Wilson stepped from the verandah, and was greeted by her husband, who introduced the Ghost. He was warmly welcomed, and they stood and faced the west and looked across the river flats, and the eye travelled to the hills in the far distance, where the setting sun tinged the clouds with blood and gold. “I am afraid we are not far off rain,” remarked the host as he waved his stick at the west. Mrs. Wilson said, “My precious garden wants some, so I don’t mind.” Then, remarking that the evening meal would be ready in ten minutes, the Ghost was shown to his room. As he glanced about him he could not fail to notice that the house was built of sawn red cedar. After a meal of fried perch, roast duck, pudding and strawberries and cream, washed down by rum, the host and his guest settled themselves to smoke their pipes.
Mr. Wilson spread out a map that he had just received, for the Ghost’s inspection. “You see,” remarked the host, “this map was published last year (1843) and of course it shows no settlement here whatever. It, however, has the creek we were looking at today, and it is marked Moomunna (Wilson’s Creek). I also have a rough copy of another map that was drawn up by Commander Hamilton. He made a rough survey of the Richmond and Clarence River districts and he has sent his original map home to the Royal Geographic Society.” (This map was published in the Society’s journal, 1844.) “Now tomorrow,” he continued, “we shall cross the river on my raft with our horses, and I will take you for a ride to show you some of the new runs that have been taken up.”
“NO TIME TO BE LONELY”
The Ghost thanked him, and they were joined by Mrs. Wilson. In course of conversation the Ghost enquired if she felt very lonely, and she replied that there was so much to do in the house and the garden that she had no time to be lonely. “I mean to have a fine garden here,” she said, “and I brought from England many seeds. I met Mr. Woolls in Sydney; he is a most enthusiastic botanist and when he heard we were coming up here he very kindly got me all sorts of useful seeds, many of which I have planted, and this soil will simply grow anything, it is so rich, and the rain so plentiful. He also procured for us some young paw paw trees, and they also are doing well, as the climate suits them as he told me they came from the West Indies. My cucumbers and melons and passion vines simply grow like weeds in this hot moist climate.
“I also met Dr. Lang.” Mrs. Wilson continued. “He is at the Scot’s Church, as you no doubt know, on Church Hill (1824), and before I left Sydney he also got me plenty of plants, and I made him promise that he would come up one day and visit us. He was very pleased when I told him that we were going to call this place Lismore, which is an island in Loch Linnhe in Argyall, where William and I spent our honeymoon.” (Dr. Lang paid the visit to Mrs. Wilson’s home in 1856 and he says, in referring to Lismore House, “The cottage is beautifully situated on rising ground, overlooking a large extent of clear land, including the township of Lismore. The garden is beautifully laid out and kept in prime order. It is more like an English home than any other place I have seen in Australia.”)
Presently a twittering sound was heard and the hostess, jumping up, exclaimed, “That is my dear little Rosella. I have neglected him tonight. He always expects me to give him a little bit of sweet, and he is reminding me.”
She went to the front verandah, opened a cage, and putting in her hand a Rosella parrot immediately perched himself on her finger, and she returned to the room with him to show his beautiful plumage. “Now isn’t he beautiful ?” she exclaimed, “and such a pretty name. One evening we were dining with Mr. Alexander Macleay at his beautiful home at Elizabeth Bay, and as you of course know he is a most enthusiastic naturalist, and he told me how the Rosella got his name. He said that when Governor Phillip came to Sydney he found that the soil was too sandy and poor for crops, and he feared they would run short, so he set off and went up the Parramatta River to Rosehill. Here a settlement was formed and these parrots abounded there. The convicts and others called them the Rose-hillers, but as they were weak on the H they were more often called Rose-illers, and at last this became the Rosellas. Now wasn’t that a happy creation?” exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, laughing.
They talked about many subjects and the Ghost enquired if the blacks were troublesome. “Oh, no, I have fixed them,” laughed Mr. Wilson. “So that they won’t steal and kill my cattle I have a good fat ox killed for them every full moon.”
“I tell William that he is really giving them a taste for beef, and the blacks will be helping themselves.”
They talked far into the night; then the decanter filled with rum was produced, and after that they retired.
The Ghost Visits Tunstall Station
Courtesy of Trove Northern Star 5 November 1938
HISTORICAL NOTES
(By W. J. Stewart McKay)
Breakfast at Lismore cottage was at 7.30, and afterwards Mrs. Wilson pointed out to her guest where a second cottage was about to be built and which would lie on the northern side of the first one and be connected by a covered way for wet weather. Here their stockman, who was about to be married, would take up his quarters.
(Note by the Ghost: The extra cottage was built, and the stockman lived there, and his daughter died at the age of 94, in St. Vincent’s Hospital, Lismore, a few months ago, she being the first white girl born in Lismore in 1844.)
He was shown the garden (one day to be so much admired by Dr. Lang), and then, after taking leave of the hostess, Mr. Wilson and the ghost, accompanied by a dog, went down to the river, where they found two horses awaiting them on the raft that had brought the host and his wife from Ballinah. Pushing off, they were soon making their way to the opposite bank, where the raft was secured, and the horses, quite used to the trip, walked off and up a steep path cut by the aboriginals. Turning to the northwest, the path ran almost parallel to the river, and, after a time they turned more to the west, and, after some miles, they struck the large creek (Leycester Creek), whose junction with the river and (Wilson) Creek they had observed the day before.
VARIED VEGETATION
They continued in Indian file for some miles, Mr. Wilson pointing out the most interesting trees, and drawing attention to the fact that there was a fairly varied vegetation, and that in a certain measure the vegetation varied according to the change in the geological formation, and this accounted for the dense jungle (brush, scrub); while in other parts there was more open forest country, (bush).
“I take a great interest in geology,” remarked Mr. Wilson, “and I have already commenced to make a collection of specimens. (Some of his collection was sent to America in much later years). The disintegration of the basalt rocks, and the great rainfall easily accounts for this sub-tropical jungle. My wife, who is a keen botanist, has already got quite a good collection of orchids, many probably quite new to science, and she will show them to you when we get back.”
As they rode along on the edge of the jungle, they saw from time to time some beautiful pigeons, and Mr. Wilson pointed out the magnificent Wompoo pigeon, which he said had the most glorious plumage of any bird in the bush. They also saw the fine Top-Knot pigeon, and the dog disturbed several brush turkeys and many quail.
The trees in the open forest country were at least two hundred feet high, while on the border of the scrub were seen the spotted gum, the tallow wood, the flooded gum, the black butt, and the white mahogany.
RED CEDAR
“Notice,” said Mr. Wilson to the ghost, “the hoop pine (Araucaria Cunninghamii), that is called after our great botanist, who has done so much to open up the north-eastern part of the colony. Now, stop and look at that beautiful red cedar tree, that is one of the kings of the forest. That great tree will yield 20,000 feet of timber, and cedar is worth a pound a hundred feet, so the Clarence River men tell me. There is a fortune in these woods, and there is enough cedar to last for
years.
Presently they came to an area where surrounded by scrub, there was a clear patch of fully an acre. “Notice that clear patch with the good grass, I don’t know how they came into existence, but they are great for the cedar getters’ bullocks, and are often called after the owner of the run, or after the name of the boss of the cedar getters of that locality. All this region about here has hardly been touched – it will be a gold mine for the future. The chief cedar getters still stick to a place about six miles down the river from my home (Gundurimba), but a fresh lot breaks away every month, and are coming up about my place.”
The dog disturbed some more game, and Mr. Wilson said he had not brought his gun, as Leycester was one of the best shots he had ever seen.
“You see,” he continued, “he is an Englishman, and, of course, he loves shooting. He is quite a good naturalist in his own quiet way. I’ll lead him on to tell you about some of his pastimes, for he is a botanist and an entomologist, a good taxidermist, and the handiest chap with carpenter’s tools, while he never misses a bird on the wing.”
“Is the other partner here that you were telling me about?” inquired the, ghost.
“Yes, but don’t smile when he quotes you Shakespeare; it streams out of him like lava out of a volcano, when the fit is on him.” (Shaw at a later date became mental, after leaving Tunstall).
NEAT COTTAGE
After riding another few miles, they came to a clearing, and saw the homestead, a neat cottage that had been put up by Leycester, with the help of some cedar-getters; while Shaw had reposed in the shade and read Shakespeare and Scott. In fact, Shaw’s chief contribution was to name the run Tunstall, after a character in “Marmion” (Brian Tunstall).
They found both their hosts waiting to receive them, for Mr. Wilson had despatched an aborigine early in the morning with a note, telling them that he was bringing a guest to see them. Both Mr. Leycester and Shaw welcomed them, and immediately they were taken into a comfortable living room, and the rum bottle produced.
“Well, Wilson, old chap, how are you? And, how is your wonderful wife? You should thank the Lord every day on your marrow bone that you can return home and have a dear woman like that to be waiting for you. Shaw and I only have an old black gin to greet us.”
“I very much appreciate what you say about my better-half, for she is not only a good cook, but she has more hope in her composition than I have. She has her little sayings that help us on – “
“Tell us some,” broke in Shaw. “I hope they are from the poets!”
FROM THE POETS
“Well, I’m not as well up in the poets as you,” replied Wilson, laughing, “but you may be able to tell me if they are from yours or a friend’s books.”
“Well, let’s hear ’em.”
“When I am down my wife says: “William, when the heart sinks, the ship sinks.”
“That is all right, but it never came from the ‘Bard of Avon,’” said Shaw.
“Well, what about this one?” went on Wilson : “Don’t try and cut bricks with a razor.”
“That’s wise enough for William,” and they all laughed.
LYRE BIRDS
“Well, Leycester, old chap, have you caught that lyre bird yet?” asked Wilson.
“Oh, I’m not after the bird, I’m only after the egg of the Richmond River lyre bird (Menura Alberti). The lyre bird up here is a different variety to the one found further south, the Menura Superba,” he explained to the ghost.
“What is the chief difference?” asked Wilson.
“The superb lyre bird has two broad feathers, which extend the length of his tail, curving out to either side; but in the species that is only found in Southern Queensland and the northeast from the Macpherson Range down to the Richmond River, the two conspicuous tail-feathers are not nearly so broad as in the other species, and these two feathers, after they run along side by side, all at once cross over, so that the distal end lies on the side opposite to the one from which it
started.”
“Does it have any powers of mimicry?” asked the ghost.
“Yes, its powers of mimicry are just as good as those of its name-sake of the south: I really think that it is a better mimic, and its colour is not so dark, it has a brown tint. I don’t think its tail is as good as the large tail feathers of the southern species, which are, as its name implies, really superb.”
“You haven’t tried putting any salt on its tail yet, have you?” laughed Wilson.
“No, I am waiting,” said Leycester, with a smile.
“What’s the nest like? Have you seen one?” asked the ghost.
“Yes, I know where there are three; and there is one between the large buttressed roots of a huge fig-tree, and I have hopes.”
“Delusive hope still points to distant good, as our Dr. Johnson used to say,” cut in Shaw, but Leycester took the gibe with his calm good temper.
(Note by the Ghost: Leycester made an expedition into the wild mountain brushes, and at last was rewarded by finding an egg in a nest on top of a great rock at the head of a gully. Robert L. Dawson, whose account is here followed, says that Leycester’s hopes of being the first to get an egg to London were, however, shattered by the famous Gould. Leycester always claimed that his egg was, however, the first to be found. Gould came to Australia in 1838, and returned to England in 1840, and the egg mentioned above is supposed to have been procured by an agent for Gould, and sent to London. The events recorded above took place in 1844).
The Ghost
Courtesy of Trove Northern Star 3 December 1938
HISTORICAL NOTES
(By W. J. Stewart McKay)
After a midday meal of roast bush turkey, new potatoes, and pumpkins, washed down with rum and water, Leycester produced some cigars. Shaw said that he could guarantee them as the best mosquito killers he had ever tried.
Seated in easy chairs that had all been made, and finished with great skill by Leycester, who was indeed in every sense a handy man, Wilson proceeded to draw their junior host out, and plied him with questions; as the Ghost wanted to learn something about the procedure in securing runs in these parts, which he knew was different to that followed in localities nearer Sydney.
“I must say,” began Leycester in reply to one question, “that the conditions in New South Wales vary very much, and were not too easy to understand. So a year ago when Shaw and I had thrown up our place, “Maidenhead”, on the Severn River, which lies about 150 miles north-west from here, up past Tenterfield, because the blacks killed too many of our cattle, I determined to run down to Sydney taking boat at the Clarence. We had had a very rough time driving our cattle down by Tenterfield until we reached the head of the Richmond, and then we selected this place for our run.
“When I got to Sydney I went to the Lands Department, not once but half-a-dozen times, and this is what I at length learnt.
NOT FOR SALE
“The first thing I was told was that no land in this area could be sold. The Crown lands here were governed by an Act called 2 Victoria. No. 27, and this had come in force in May, 1839; though passed in England some time before that date.
“You must understand,” continued Leycester, “that the actual Colony of New South Wales is only one of a very limited area, because the authorities consider that to the north, past the Hunter, the Liverpool Range which runs from the west due east to within a short distance of the coast, limits the colony to the north. Then if we go along the coast from the eastern extremity of the Liverpool Range and pass down by Newcastle and Sydney to Jervis Bay, that is the eastern boundary. From Jervis Bay a line is run by way of Yass up to where the Lachlan bends sharply to the south-west, and from this point a line is drawn to the north-east until it meets the western part of the Liverpool Range, and within these boundaries is the State of New South Wales.
IN TWO PARTS
“Further you must understand that up to 1839 the colony was divided into two parts: One part was known as the “portion within the limits of location,” and included what were called the “old counties”; while the other portion was described as made up of areas “beyond the limits of location,” and included all the unknown and undefined country outside the “old countries.”
“Under the Act that I have told you about (2 Victoria, 27) persons within the ‘limits of location’ were prohibited from squatting and residing upon, or erecting any hut or making a clearing, or enclosing or cultivating Crown lands under a penalty. But beyond the ‘limits of location’ no person could occupy even though they went out and discovered the new country at their own risk and expense, unless they had produced a ‘license’. Thus you will understand that the so-called ‘squatters’ could not own their runs, all that they possessed was a ‘license’ to occupy certain lands. Now all the stations and runs that are on the Clarence and Richmond Rivers, being in the country ‘beyond the limits of location,’ all these places are not bought, only occupied by obtaining a ‘license.’
“Tell them,” broke in Shaw, “about the ‘Government Gazette’ and the licenses.”
STAND AS RECORD
“Ah, yes! You know Wilson that everyone who gets a license to occupy a run or a station has to have the fact published in the ‘Government Gazette,’ and these notices in the ‘Gazette’ are of great use because the dates are accurate, and some day will stand as records when the history of the occupation of any locality comes to be written. Also, if you dispose of your license to another party that fact must be published in the ‘Gazette’.
These licenses are our only protection because they define the boundaries of our runs and should prevent stock from a neighbouring run grazing on our property. I am afraid we are going to have trouble with Ward Stephens, who has taken up a big station not far from here and called it Runnymede. His sheep keep coming into some of our paddocks on our western boundaries and they spoil the grass for our cattle. I hope, however, it will not lead to any unpleasantness.
(It led, four years later, to the ‘Disputed Plains Lawsuit’, which Leycester fought in the Sydney Courts. The verdict did not satisfy him, so he took the case to the Privy Council and got a farthing damages, which did not carry costs, and as they were so heavy he had to sell to H. Garrard Tunstall station to pay his legal costs. This was about 1850. Shaw had sold out his interest and had left Tunstall about 1847.)
The Ghost now asked “if the conditions in the Clarence River district were the same as on the Richmond?”
“Yes,” replied Leycester, “exactly the same, in fact it was the passing of the 2 Victoria, No. 27 Act that stimulated interest in the Clarence. Since about 1836 the Big River had been known on account of its beautiful cedar trees, but no squatting had been attempted. When, however, the contents of the new Land Act became known a party of well-to-do men chartered a steamer, and set out from Sydney to see if the country bordering on the Big River would be suitable for cattle or sheep, as there was a pretty severe drought on all over New South Wales in ’39. The ‘King William IV‘ was hired and Mr. I.H. Grose got a party together who came up and made an exploring picnic excursion. They were all delighted, and the Governor, Sir George Gipps, sent Capt. Parry with the party to report to him, and the report being a very favourable one it was not long before every available acre on the Big River was taken up for stations; but no land was sold, all that the new squatters were required to do was to pay ten pounds per annum for the license fee for depasturing their stock. Improvements on the runs were to be made at the licensee’s risk. The licenses were issued by a Land Commissioner appointed for the Big River district, and he was given the power to dispossess licensees who failed to make a report to him every six months of all stock, lands and brands; and it is laid down that no licensed person is to keep stock belonging to any other person without reporting the same.”
TAX ON STOCK
“Tell them about the tax on the stock,” chipped in Shaw.
“Oh yes, I was coming to that little tit-bit,” laughed Leycester.
“In order to provide the salaries of the Commissioner and the police for the particular district, a half-yearly assessment was levied upon all stock “beyond the limits of location”; and as the Clarence and the Richmond came under this ruling, we all have to contribute a half-penny per head upon sheep, three half-pence per head on cattle over six months old, and three pence per head upon horses: this helped towards security of tenure.”
“There is one point,” remarked Wilson, “which the Commissioner mentioned, and that was that he had the power to refuse to renew the license if a sufficient number of servants were not kept on the station.”
“Yes,” said Leycester, “and he explained to me that it was his duty to point out that native women must not be harboured, and that spirits must not be kept in large quantities. I presented my cook to him and when he saw her he smiled, and said he was quite satisfied.”
He seemed to be satisfied with our grog also,” broke in Shaw, “judging by the amount he took into custody.”
All laughed, and Leycester rising proposed that they should go and have some shooting, to which proposition they all agreed.
The Ghost on a Tour of Tunstall
Courtesy of Trove Northern Star 7 January 1939
HISTORICAL NOTES
(By W. J. Stewart McKay)
Taking a couple of pointers along with them, the four sportsmen set out. Mr. Wilson was given a gun, and Leycester took another: the Ghost and Shaw were content to look on, and would be asked to carry the game later.
They proceeded in a north-west direction parallel to the large creek (Leycester Creek, long known as Hanging Rock Creek) which formed the natural western boundary between Tunstall station and Bungabee, which was the eastern out-station of Runnymede, owned by Ward Stephens.
They strolled along at first in the open forest country, but soon they came to the scrub that bordered the creek.
Looking at this Mr. Wilson remarked “That creek is a great asset Leycester.”
“You are right,” replied his host, “Tunstall is well watered for to the east between here and the river there is another fine creek (Terania Creek), and about three miles away a smaller creek (Goolmangar Creek) runs into it, so we are not likely to go short of water.”
“There are a great many places in New South Wales,” said Mr. Wilson “that would like to make that boast” (drought and depression 1842-45).
BEAUTIFUL BIRDS
As they approached the scrub where the smaller trees and vines grew luxuriantly, it was soon evident that the edge of the scrub was simply alive with beautiful birds of all sizes and varieties.
Leycester called the dogs to his side and the party halted not far from the birds, which were so seldom disturbed that they took little notice of the visitors.
“Look,” said Leycester, “and you will see such a variety of beautiful birds that would even make Gould’s mouth water.”
They paused. No one spoke and the dogs were too well trained to move. Then Leycester said in a low clear voice, “Look at those beautiful pigeons; few countries could boast of so many different varieties. See these fine plump fellows on the ground, they are the Wonga-Wonga. They are ground feeders and when disturbed they rise with a loud clapping noise of their wings and fly swiftly to the nearest tree and alight.
DIFFICULT TO SEE
“See these that are already in that tree,” continued Leycester pointing to a tree not more than 70 feet away, “they have their backs turned to us and you observe how difficult it is to pick them out, their colour protects them. They are good table-birds, but although their flesh is delicate, it is dry, so when being cooked they require to be well basted.
“The Wonga is not as good a table bird as these little green-winged pigeons feeding over there on the ground; they are fearless little beggars and when flushed they fly through the scrub, but only for a short distance and then they drop like a stone in the scrub.
“They are delicious to eat being much smaller than the Wonga and not so dry.”
Holding up his finger he bade the others listen to the noise the Wongas were making, for one could hear the “Coo-Coo-Coo” a quarter-mile away.
Moving to another spot Leycester said “Now look at these large birds with the brown backs, they are the Bronze-Wing pigeons. They are generally on the ground in pairs and when they rise to fly they make a whirring noise; they can fly pretty quickly to the branch of a tree. I am going to try and catch some of them for I think they can be easily tamed, and their beautiful colours and their crest are very attractive. Their cry is very sad, it always appears to me that they are calling “Home, Home.”
TOP KNOT PIGEON
“But look at that big grey fellow on that branch high up. Notice the funny knob at the back of his head; that is the Top Knot Pigeon.
“You will sometimes see them in large flocks. They come and go, travelling about from one place to another looking for different native fruit and berries at the time when they are ripe. The Top Knots are not ground birds, but feed in the trees on berries, and when they are not feeding in the scrub they keep to the topmost branches of the big trees. Their flesh is good eating.”
“Which do you consider the most beautiful of the pigeons?” asked Mr. Wilson.
“Oh, I don’t think there is any doubt about that,” replied Leycester. “The Wampoo pigeon is the most magnificent I have ever seen. I have caught a glimpse of him as far down the coast as Sydney, while I have seen him here, but only rarely. I shot one to send it to London to the British Museum. I thought that perhaps Gould might have missed him,” he said laughing.
“What colour is he?” asked the Ghost.
LARGE AS TOP-KNOT
“He is a big bird, as large as the Top-Knot, with a light grey or slate coloured head, while the whole breast is one magnificent burst of prunecoloured feathers, with beautiful olive-green wings, while his thighs are clothed with yellow feathers.
“No wonder he is called the “Magnificent” Fruit Pigeon, he certainly deserves his title. He has a strange call, not beautiful, but very like the gobble of the farm-yard turkey.”
They moved on and Leycester suggested that they did not shoot any of the pigeons until they turned for home.
“If we go over this way,” pointing to more open forest country, “we may get some quail.”
He had barely spoken when one of the pointers was observed to stop, and at once some quail rose and were brought down in very short time by Wilson, who was an excellent shot.
Leycester examined them and pointed out that they were the “Painted” or “Scrub” Quail; they lived much in the scrub and camp out into the open forest country to feed. He said that though small, these birds had a booming note that was very like the note of the Bronze-wing Pigeon.
The female was larger than the male, which is an exception to the rule observed among birds, and in addition the female was more conspicuously coloured.
Again the female sits on the eggs for only a short time, the male then finishes the task, and brings up and educates the young ones. But the parent birds don’t become reunited for the female generally abandons the male while he is sitting on the eggs and goes off and mates up with another mate, lays her eggs, sits on them for a time, and leaves the new consort to hatch out the young ones and bring them up.”
“I think her conduct should be reported to the authorities,” remarked Shaw, amidst laughter.
PIECE DE RESISTANCE
After shooting a dozen quail, Shaw suggested that the piece de resistance should be shown to the visitors.
“Yes, of course,” replied Leycester. “If you will follow me, I will show you something that is not often seen.” He led the way for a short distance into the scrub, disturbing a Paddy-Melon and some Bandicoots.
Then suddenly he stopped and pointing up into one of the trees, Leycester said, “Look up in that tree and I can show you a very wonderful bird. He is the one with the black body and the golden head; the upper parts of his wings are black, while the lower parts are golden.
“That is the rare Regent bird, that museums are always so eager to possess.
“Notice he has about a dozen females about him. As a matter of fact, some of them are immature males that have not yet developed their parent’s gorgeous colour. He builds a bower in a playground. He first clears a space and then constructs a bower. He erects walls and decorates them with land snail-shells and bright berries.”
GAVE THE ALARM
Suddenly the ruler of the bower gave the alarm by squeaking “Whit, Whit,” and away he went followed by his company.
Still following Leycester in the scrub they at last came to a cleared area. In it there was seen to be a mound of earth mixed up with rotting vegetation and sticks, raked together from the surrounding scrub. The mound was about 3 feet high and 10 feet in diameter.
Leycester said, “The eggs are clean and white when first deposited in the mound, but most of those that I have seen have been soiled and stained. The hen lays about eight or a dozen eggs. The heat of the decomposition in this natural incubator is quite enough to hatch out the eggs.
EARLY FLIERS
“The young come out of the egg fully feathered and are able to run about at once, and what is more remarkable is they are said to be able to fly a short distance soon after they leave the mound.” You see they differ from a pigeon or a chicken, they are so much stronger.”
After examining the mound, they turned for home, and as they went along the wonderful shooting of Leycester in which he was well supported by Mr. Wilson, very soon supplied all the game required.
As they approached the house Wilson said to his host:
“Leycester, you should grow banana trees here. I think this spot would suit them.”
“I think it would; I must see if I can get some young plants.”
“When I was coming up in the brig from Sydney,” said Wilson, “the Captain gave me six young plants. I had to stay at Deptford (Ballina) for some weeks, having a raft built. I met there a cedar cutter named Simpson (of Uralba), and I gave him one of the plants and gave one each to two other cedar cutters. The three young plants were put on the banks of Duck Creek. (They grew and were alive 70 years later). I planted the other three in my garden at Lismore and they are growing well.” (Mr. Wilson was the first man to introduce the banana on the Richmond River).
They reached the house, had a substantial evening meal and retired early, as they had to make an early start in the morning, and Leycester had promised to show them the way to Tomki Station.
The Ghost at Tomki Station
Courtesy of Trove Northern Star 4 February 1939
HISTORICAL NOTES
(By W. J. Stewart McKay)
Up early in the morning, they all went to the creek for a swim, and after breakfast Mr. Wilson, the Ghost and Leycester started on horseback for Tomki Station, bidding farewell to Shaw.
The way lay for some miles along a fine creek (Back Creek). Before they turned to the south Leycester said, “Over there in the bush, when Shaw and I first came here, I marked a red gum tree ‘S.L.’ to show where our western boundary was.” (Thirty years afterwards, 1872, when Leycester lived with the Dawson family at Bentley, he took a tomahawk and recut the well-known S.L. tree).
“That was a fine creek we just left,” remarked Mr. Wilson, as they turned their backs on it, “and what a splendid lot of hoop pine there is all about here.”
PLENTY OF PINE
“Yes,” said Leycester, “there is enough hoop pine in this district to serve the coming generation for thirty or forty years. The creek is a splendid one and runs up miles before it branches (into Boundary and Boorabee Creeks). These creeks help to supply Runnymede Station, which Ward Stephens tells me, contains over 130 thousand acres.” After riding for an hour they began to climb the watershed range that lay between Back Creek and Tomki. (On this range the dead body of Henry Garrard, the first Police Magistrate for the Lismore district, was found in 1861. There was no signs of violence; he probably died of heart or brain lesion.)
At one spot where the scrub was dense Leycester said, “In that scrub over there I came across a much bigger nest of the Brush Turkey than the one I showed you yesterday. The one here is at least five feet high and twenty feet in diameter and it, of course, must be occupied by more than one pair of birds, for each adds to such a mound year after year, which keeps it in repair and makes the nest more solid.”
“How deep do they put the eggs?” asked Mr. Wilson.
“From 18 inches to 2 feet, and the wonderful thing is that they place and fix them with the big end up, so that the young birds will come out of the eggs more easily, and then find their way out of the. mound.”
“A wonderful bit of instinct,” remarked the Ghost.
“Yes” replied Leycester, “they are buried deep so that a goanna won’t find them easily if he should happen to run over the top of the nest.”
After going uphill through scrub and forest country, they began to descend the other side of the ridge, and could see lying to the south open, flat country (Tomki Plains), which was covered with luxurious Kangaroo grass. At the foot of the hill was a goodly sized creek (Pelican Creek), with some lagoons and a swamp. On the edge of the swamp were some black-necked storks (Jabiru), standing about or stalking, and suddenly jumping with big strides at fish in the water. Here also could be seen pelicans, black ducks, and wild geese, while red-bills, shags, and land rails were numerous, and overhead, plovers, disturbed, screamed in displeasure, while in flight.
PLAIN TURKEYS
Leycester drew his companion’s attention to some large grey birds, with brown wings, that were picking about among the kangaroo grass stalks, and explained that they were bustards, or plain turkeys, that the blacks called Kyogle. “They are, of course, an entirely different bird to the brush turkey, whose mound we saw yesterday. It is an interesting fact that a member of the bustard family was formerly bred in Great Britain. This chap is a magnificent table-bird.”
As they rode through the kangaroo grass, they disturbed some fine, big kangaroos, and, after going about four miles, they could see the Tomki homestead, not far from the Richmond River. As they approached the home, they saw it was built of slabs, and a man came out to meet them. He was Henry Barnes, the overseer of Tomki. He was of medium height, of very thick and sturdy build. An Englishman from Cumberland, his eyes were bright, and his expression both kindly and humorous. His nose was very large and red, and this was a distress to him, as he was a sober man. They dismounted, and their horses were handed over to a couple of black boys, who took them to the stable.
“Well, Barnes, old chap; how are you liking Tomki?” inquired Leycester.
“Each day I think more highly of it. I’m sure it’s going to be a great place in time, and it will suit our Shorthorns.”
“Mr. Clark Irving is a shrewd man,” remarked Leycester.
“You are right, he can see good points in country that others cannot,” said Barnes. “The real fact is, Clay and Stapleton didn’t stay long enough to give this place a proper trial.”
“Needs must when the devil drives,” quoted Leycester. “They were very pressed for money; and if these low prices keep on, some of us may be in the same fix.”
“You are right,” said Barnes, “sheep have fallen from forty shillings to half-a-crown, and cattle from ten pounds to ten bob in some places. It won’t pay to send sheep and cattle away for sale at those prices.”
“Better boil them down for the tallow and hides,” remarked Mr. Wilson. Last time Mr. Irving was here he said that he was thinking of putting up a boiling down place here, as cattle ought to yield three pound a head. If you salted them and sent them to the Mauritius one would probably make no profit,” said Barnes. “I think that the boiling down will be the best plan, said Leycester. (About this time Clark Irving bought 13,000 head of mixed cattle from Major Innes, of Port Macquarie, at ten and six per head. A few years later (1847) Irving started boiling down cattle at Tomki and he boiled down thousands every year). Mr. Wilson asked Barnes how long they had had Tomki. “Mr. Irving bought the place in February, ’43. You see, Clay and Stapleton only got the place by chance.”
“Is that so.” said Wilson.
TABULAM FIRST
“Yes, they actually first took up a place called Tabulam, about forty miles west towards Tenterfield. Now there is a regulation in force that unless country taken up for squatting purposes is occupied within six months after application is granted then the country is open to the first comer. Clay and Stapleton being some weeks over the allotted time found upon arrival at Tabulam that Pagan and Evans were in occupation with their sheep. Now at this time all the country to the east of Tabulam was quite unknown, and so it was all unoccupied, and Pagan and Evans persuaded Clay and Stapleton to climb to the top of a range of hills (the Richmond Range, east of Mallanganee), and from there they could see the Richmond River and some of the plains along its banks. Clay and Stapleton being satisfied at once decided to drive their cattle to the river, and took up the first station in 1841, and called it Cassino.”
“Where is that ?” asked Mr. Wilson. “About five miles west from here, and it included all this area to which they soon moved.”
“Have you ever tried growing any crops here?” asked Leycester.
“Yes. Soon after I came to Tomki. I grew some acres of wheat, and I had a splendid crop, back from the river on the clay subsoil: on the bank of the river where I tried a few acres it made too much straw,” replied Barnes.
“How many acres have you in Cassino?” asked Leycester.
“About 30,000, I should think.”
“When Shaw and I came down from the Severn River up past Tenterfield, we had to come across almost trackless country.”
“With our stock and a couple of bullocks drays for our goods and grain, we came through Tabulam, and we were lucky to later on strike a place on the river where we could get across (The Falls, Casino), and then we went on to Tunstall.
“What date was that?” asked Barnes. “In 1843,” Leycester replied.
“Ah, then Clay and Stapleton were before you?”
“Oh, yes; they must have come here at the end of 1839, or the first part of ’40.” (Shaw and Leycester were therefore not the first white men who passed through what is now Casino).
CHANGE OF NAME
“Why did Mr. Irving change the name to Tomki?” inquired the Ghost.
“I can’t tell you why he called this Tomki; I don’t even know what the word means,” replied Barnes, laughing (the actual portion of the station which became the town of Casino in later years was for long called “The Falls,” and it was not until November, 1855, that the town of Casino was formally notified in the “Government Gazette”).
OTHER STATIONS
“What other stations are there in this district?” inquired Mr. Wilson.
“The largest is Runnymede, taken up by Ward Stephens in ’42, and its out-station, Bungabee, next to Tunstall.
They lie north and north-east of Tomki. Then, north of Runnymede, is Wiangarie, on the south arm of the Richmond. It is owned by Wellington C. Bundock, but was first taken up by Edward Ogilvie, Mrs. Bundock’s brother. Across the river from Runnymede is Stratheden, and is owned by Dr. Dobie – it is a magnificent stretch of country. South-west from it is Dyraaba, which is in the hands of Mr Bundock, a brother of W.C.B., and he is using it as a sheep station. I forgot to mention that to the west of Wiangarie is Fairy Mount, Sir John Jamison’s property.”
“Indeed!” said Mr. Wilson; “that is very interesting. I visited Sir John’s beautiful home, just out of Penrith, about thirty miles from Sydney. I was waiting to get to Lismore. It must be one of the finest houses ever built in the Colony. He named it Regentville. He is a great sport and the chairman of the Sydney Turf Club, and also of the Australian Jockey Club. How strange to come to such a distant outpost and find that Jamison, or his agent, had been here before you” (It is also strange to relate that Mr. Alexander MacKellar, who afterwards owned Fairymount, in later years also became chairman of the A.J.C., while his daughter married Harry Chisholm, who was vice-chairman of the A.J.C for many years).
The Ghost at Tomki Station
Courtesy of Trove Northern Star 6 March 1939
HISTORICAL NOTES
(By W. J. Stewart McKay)
After lunch, as they reclined on the grass in the shade of a big fig tree near the house, two horsemen rode up and dismounted.
Mr. Barnes greeted and introduced them:
“Gentlemen, this is my neighbour from across the river, Commander Hamilton. He is one of the first to make a map of the Richmond district from his own journeys. And this gentleman is my friend, Alex. MacKellar, a young Scotchman, who is with me “for station experience.”
“By jove, Commander,” said Leycester, “that was a great ride you had.”
ROUGH TRAVELLING
Hamilton laughed and threw himself on the grass and replied: “Some of it was very rough travelling, especially the country from Grafton to Guy Fawkes. I think Craig’s task in getting the first sheep to the Clarence from Guy Fawkes was a super-human feat, and knocks anything I have ever done to smithereens.”
“Yes, Ogilvy told me about his experience when, he came from Guy Fawkes to the river,” remarked Leycester. “He said he took great care when he brought his stock from Denman to take them round by Tenterfield.”
“Where is your run about here, Commander?” asked Mr. Wilson. “It’s always interesting to know how anyone comes to pick on a certain locality for a run.”
“My place,” answered the Commander, “is on the other side of the river. My partner, Denison, and I have a place at Collaroy, near to Busby’s station at Cassilis, and they suggested that we should have a look at this district. So we started off and came by way of the Peel River, Tamworth, Armidale and Tenterfield. We had heard about the track from Tenterfield as it had been marked by a Thomas Hewitt, who had been brought out by the A. and A. Company, and who, after leaving the company, had taken up a place called Stonehenge for Boyd in ’38. We were told that he, accompanied by a settler and a black boy, had set out to mark the track, by the aid of a compass, across the ranges down to Grafton, and he completed his task in three weeks. (His grandson, Mr. H.C. Hewitt, of Tweed Heads, possessed the compass in later years.) This was the only line to the Richmond and Clarence. Luckily for us, there was an accommodation house, kept by Hewitt’s friend, Hindmarsh, at Fairfield Falls, about 35 miles from Tenterfield, and we were glad to put up there one night, for it was raining heavily. Coming on we passed Tabulam, and then turned southeast, and after about 15 miles we got to a big flat (Busby’s Flat) and then kept on east, past Wyan, until we struck the track, which we had been told led from Lawrence through the Myrtle Creek country to the lowest crossing place on the Richmond. Continuing due north, we were quite satisfied with the country we had seen; but not being sure whether it might not have been already applied for, we made for Stapleton’s, the nearest station we knew of on the river. But on reaching the Richmond we found it too much swollen by the recent rains for our horses to ford it without a guide, so we followed it down for five or six miles, until we got opposite here, and after a time someone saw us and brought a boat across for us, while our horses were swum over without much difficulty.”
WHERE?
“And then where did you take up your station ?” asked Mr. Wilson.
“Well, we had a bit of luck,” said the Commander, laughing, “for we were told that between a station called Stratheden, owned by Dr. Dobie, which is across the river at the Falls, and a big creek called Deep Creek, a Mr. Evans had taken up a run, but had not occupied it, and we were told that the time for occupation had elapsed. So we made off hot-foot to the Commissioner for Crown Lands on the Clarence and secured the place, which we have called Wooroowoolgen. Then we made our way back by that terrible track up to Guy Fawkes, and sent our stock down, from Collaroy. They were six months on the road coming by Tenterfield.” (Wooroowoolgen means cut throat, while Tomki means greedy.)
After this the subject that engaged their attention most was the financial condition of the colony, and they were all eager to hear Hamilton’s views, as he had recently been in Sydney.
“What do you think, Commander, of the financial condition in Sydney and the country generally?” inquired Leycester. “Well,” answered Hamilton, “everyone is pretty well agreed that the drought from ’37 to ’40 was the real start of what has now become a serious crisis. The drought, and the fact that the colony has quite neglected agriculture, have landed the authorities in the awkward fix that they are now quite incapable of feeding the population, and the result is that vast sums of money have gone out of the country for grain to India and South America, and also to China for rice and tea; and so the colony has been drained of its money for the very essentials of life. Then when one ship after another does arrive, the men with capital combine and buy up every successive shipment of tea and grain, and retail them at outrageous prices.”
DEAR FLOUR
“Yes, indeed,” broke in Barnes, “that is how poor Clay and Stapleton had to pay eighty pounds for a ton of flour in ’39, before they came up here.”
“Do you think, Commander, that putting an end to transportation (in 1840) has had any adverse effect ?” inquired Mr. Wilson.
“I asked Governor Gipps that very question,” replied Hamilton, “but he wouldn’t admit it for a moment; and he also said that the rise to 25 pounds a year with rations for station hands would not make any great difference.”
“The immigrants will soon flock in,” remarked Leycester, “and so labour will become more plentiful and wages will drop back to the former twenty bob with grub.”
“Well, I think,” said Barnes, “that the best way out of this difficulty is by boiling down the sheep and cattle.
“Today sheep are bringing next to nothing, so why sell them at the present shocking prices; and yet we know that tallow is worth from two to three pounds the hundredweight in London. The freight is 70 shillings a ton, so 800 tolerably fat sheep would cost about 110 pounds to boil down and deliver the tallow in London, where the return would be 350 pounds. Now these are the figures that Mr. Irving brought when he was here last. He said they were put forward by Henry O’Brien, of Yass, who is a strong advocate for boiling down, and he very rightly argues that converting sheep or cattle into tallow means that you are able to standardise their value, and so a level would in time be reached below which the price could never go.”
“I, for one, agree with him,” said Leycester,” for if the man on the land is going to waste his flocks by getting rid of them at sixpence a head, this will only lead to general ruination.”
BOILING DOWN
(Boiling down was taken up everywhere in the colony, and 200,000 sheep were boiled down before the end of 1844, and the squatters found themselves on a new road that led to prosperity, for they soon realised that even a miserable ewe was worth six shillings. More than 750,000 sheep went to the vats in 1845, and by 1850 two and a half millions were treated every year in addition to 260,000 head of cattle. At Tomki in 1847, two boiling down plants were at work, chiefly for cattle, but also for sheep. In May 1851 gold was discovered, and the price of cattle jumped from ten shillings to eight pounds a head, while tallow rose to thirty pounds a ton, and cedar rose to four pounds a hundred feet. By March 1852, two million pounds worth of gold had been exported from the country, and by the end of 1853, twenty-one million pounds worth of gold had been shipped from Victoria, and at last the man on the land in the Richmond River area had come into his own on account of the great demand for store-cattle, and many thousands went from the Richmond River herds, because they were considered the best in Australia.).
Commander Hamilton took his leave late in the afternoon, but promised to return early next morning to witness a calf-throwing match between Henry Barnes and Alex MacKellar.
The Ghost Leaves Tomki Station
Courtesy of Trove Northern Star 1 April 1939
HISTORICAL NOTES
(By W. J. Stewart McKay)
Up at six o’clock next morning, Mr. Barnes saw to it that his guests had a cup of tea. (The early cup of tea did not became a general practice until many years later, for the man on the land who had to go to work early.)
As they walked to the yards a little distance away, their host explained that the muster of calves was only a small one. He said, “When I came here in April last year (1843) the season was very dry and we were thinking of stocking with sheep. All the lagoons were dry and you could cross the river without getting your feet wet. There were only 700 head of cattle here. Then the rain came and we saw at once that sheep would never do on these flats, so we determined to have cattle, and I think we will ultimately favour shorthorns.
As they approached the yards Mr. Wilson inquired, “What procedure was followed in branding?”
“The musterers,” explained the manager, “bring the cows and calves in overnight to the yards, where the cows are drafted off from the calves, which are left shut up all night. The reason for this being that the calves are hungry in the morning, and when branded are turned out of the yards and quickly try to find their mothers’ as they want a drink: otherwise the small calves, sore and stupid, would wander about and miss their mothers, which are eager to make back to that part of the run they usually frequent.”
JUST RIDDEN IN
At the yards they found Commander Hamilton, who had just ridden over to watch the proceedings; he was talking to young MacKellar, who was dressed in moleskin pants and a flannel shirt without sleeves. He was certainly a magnificent specimen of manhood, six feet two in height with a perfectly developed chest and splendid arm muscles, while his face was as handsome as that of a young Greek deity; the only thing that might displease one was a look of temper in his eyes; the look that one sees in a horse that is prone to kick.
Mr. Barnes explained that the small calves were easy to do, so the “scruffers” would do these first, then MacKellar and himself would tackle the young bulls.
Two of the scruffers began to work straightaway, the one (called the “header”) grabbed a calf by the nose and at the same time swung the head up in the air and jerked it to the side, while the other at the stern (called the “tailer”) swung the rump over and at the same time as the “header” went down with the calf. No sooner were the hindquarters on the ground than the “tailer” put his foot on the hock, while at the same time he gripped the top leg below the hind fetlock and hoof.
A man standing by earmarked with a knife, while the bull calves were further treated, and finally the branding iron (C cross S) was applied.
When the younger calves have been finished at the rate of thirty in half an hour, some young bulls were tackled by Barnes and young MacKellar.
CHAMPION WRESTLER
Barnes, a Cumberland man, had been a champion wrestler in his home district, and after several young bulls about nine months old had been thrown by the rivals it become apparent that the dogged endurance and perseverance of the Cumberland wrestler stood him in good stead; while MacKellar was able to deal with one or two ramping, roaming, powerful young bulls in perfect fashion owing to his superb strength.
When the contests were finished all returned to the cottage for breakfast, and later on Wilson, Leycester and the Ghost mounted for the return ride to Lismore.
As they rode along Wilson remarked on the luck of getting Tomki.
MURDERED BY BLACKS
“Yes,” said Leycester, “Clay and Stapleton lost their first selection and then dropped on Cassino, whereas the man who took their selection at Tabulam was Peter Pagan, and a year later he was murdered by the blacks. (Pagan was killed in 1841, and Mr. Cecil Anderson has recently been able to discover the gravestone in three pieces, which he restored.)
“And I got Lismore,” laughingly remarked Mr. Wilson, “because the first owner’s sheep developed foot-rot and stomach worms.”
“And Shaw and I,” remarked Leycester, “came to Tunstall because the blacks kept spearing our cattle on the Severn. If we were Moslems we would say, ‘We but follow our destiny. What is written is written.’”
As they continued to ride due east through flat open forest country, Leycester, as was his wont, drew their attention to anything that he thought would interest his companions. Presently when they came to a light-barked tree they saw an immense flow of dark brown gum.
“Now, look at that gum-tree,” said Leycester, as they all pulled up. “Some day, I suppose, all these gums and resins and kinos will be made use of.”
“What is the difference between them?” asked Mr. Wilson.
“A resin is the exudation that you get from pine trees, as, for instance, from the Cunningham hoop pine, that is common in all parts of this district. Resin is also plentiful in those peculiar trees that you strike up here, which are called grass trees. The characteristic of a resin is that it is entirely insoluble in water, but is quite soluble in alcohol, and it is from the resins that varnishes are made”
ASTRINGENT JUICE
“What is this stuff?” asked Mr. Wilson, pointing to the mass that had poured from the injured spot in the tree trunk.
“That,” replied Leycester, “is kino; it is the very astringent juice of the gum trees that dries when exposed to the air. It is more or less slowly soluble in water, and the blacks drink water in which kino has been dissolved for medicine when their bowels are too loose.”
“Then,” continued Leycester, as they rode on, “there are the real gums, especially those that are obtained from the wattle trees, and from the red cedar trees.”
“I know the wattle gum well,” remarked Wilson, “but I have never noticed the red cedar gum.”
“Well, that tree yields a perfectly transparent pale amber-coloured gum, but only in small quantities. Now the difference between a gum and a resin, as I have told, is that the gum is soluble in water and insoluble in spirit, which is the other way round with a resin. Now there are some exudations which are called gum-resins, and they are intermediate in character between a gum and a resin, being partly soluble in water, and what is left in spirit. Some of these gum-resins have a very aromatic smell and are used to dab on animals that have wounds, they help to keep the flies off and help to hasten the healing. The common silky-oak, known as Grevillea robusta, exudes a gum resin in small quantities, but an Indian soldier told me that during the rainy season he has known one of these trees produce at least half-a-pint of transparent gum-resin.”
A little further on they all drew up to admire a very fine laughing jackass, which greeted them with his merry laugh.
“Ah,” said Mr. Wilson, “I do love that bird; what is it they call him round about Sydney?”
“They called him kookaburra,” replied the Ghost. “But that is not an aboriginal word; the blacks always call the bird Gogobera or Goburra, and out of these two words Kookaburra has been formed. Of course, you notice his likeness to the English kingfisher; he is a kingfisher, but a giant one, as his name, Dacelo gigas, implies.”
After riding for some seven or eight miles they crossed a big creek (Pelican Creek), which Leycester said was the same creek that they had crossed after descending the ridge to reach Tomki flats. Then when they had climbed a steep ridge they had a good view of the surrounding country on all sides.
TRACE COURSE
“Look,” said Leycester, pointing south-west, “you can’t see the water of the Richmond River after it runs past Tomki, but you can trace its course by the way the trees grow along the banks. That is the south arm of the river, and it runs down to join the north arm which is lying behind us, to the east; that is the north arm, you know, that runs down past you at Lismore, Wilson. The two arms meet at a place called Coraki, a word which I always think must be an aboriginal imitation of the cry of the butcher bird. If you say Coraki! Coraki! Coraki! you will near the butcher bird’s cry. You remember passing Coraki coming up, Wilson, on your raft?”
“Yes,” he replied. “It was not far above Rocky Mouth (Woodburn) and I remember a determined sort of chap named Yabsley who had established a shipbuilding yard there.”
“Yes,” said Leycester, “and the next place was Gundurimba. All this part of the river is becoming more populated every day, because this is the chief centre for the red cedar industry, and that is going to last lot many years to come.”
They descended the ridge for half a mile, then turned north, and after five miles they came opposite to Mr Wilson’s house. Leycester could not be persuaded to stop, so taking leave he set out at once for Tunstall, while the others crossed the river to Lismore House.