uld
have been a very long operation, had it not been for a tremendous fall of
rain that followed a thunderstorm, deluging every pool, and at once
affording the means of filling the casks. This storm began at South-East
and drew round by east to North-West, from which quarter it blew strong
for an hour. The torrents of rain lasted two hours, and cooled the air so
rapidly, as in that time to reduce the thermometer from 92 to 82 degrees.
This change was so sudden, that it made those who felt it shiver as if it
were the depth of winter, and RUSH INTO THE RIVER WATER TO KEEP
THEMSELVES WARM.
November 4.
Both boats proceeded up the river at daylight. We started from the end of
Short Reach, trending East-North-East, and about four miles within the
range of hills, on the South-East side of the Plains. The first reach led
us a mile and a half in a South-East direction, and at the end of it a
flat of large boulders extended; across this we dragged the boats easily.
The river now took a turn from East-North-East to North, and at the end
of a mile we came to another extensive flat, quite dry. There was a deep
pool below it, with a precipitous hill, 350 feet high, on the eastern
side. This we called Steep Head, and its singular dark cliffy face,
frowning over the placid waters, gave an air of grandeur to the scenery.
Stretched out on the face of these cliffs, we left the skin of our friend
the alligator, to be taken to the ship by the watering boats when they
returned.
SHOALS IN THE RIVER.
There was now heavy work before us, with the thermometer at 93 degrees in
the shade: we had to drag the boats over the large flat that impeded our
progress. The way was made as smooth as possible, and plenty of rollers
laid, but an unlucky stone found its way through the thin plank of the
gig. Captain Wickham acted as head carpenter in repairing the damage,
which occupied so much time that it was dark before the boats were
floated in the deep water beyond. We dined on the bank, by the light of a
lantern hung on a tree. The tide at this place only rose two feet.
SCENERY ON ITS BANKS.
November 5.
Taking advantage of the cool of the morning, we moved off with the early
dawn. A fine sheet of water lay before us, and everything promised well.
The vegetation looked stronger and richer. Above the growth of acacias
and drooping gums, that leant over the banks kissing their reflection in
the limpid waters, rose on each side high broken rang
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