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Source.—Expeditions in Australia (Sturt, 1833), Vol. II, pp. 6, 8-69, 85-86, 111, 151-187, 204-217, 219.

On his first expedition Sturt had proved that the interior was dry. He then attempted to find the destination of the Morumbidgee and the Darling. Travelling down the Morumbidgee he discovered the Murray and followed it to its termination, 1829.

Dec. 27th. M'Leay and I started at an early hour on an excursion of deeper interest than any we had as yet undertaken; to examine the reeds, not only for the purpose of ascertaining their extent, if possible, but also to guide us in our future measures. We rode some miles along the river side, but observed in it no signs either of increase or of exhaustion. Everything tended to strengthen my conviction that we were still far from the termination of the river. I was aware that my resolves must be instant, decisive, and immediately acted upon, as on firmness and promptitude at this crisis the success of the expedition depended. About noon I checked my horse, and rather to the surprise of my companion, intimated to him my intention of returning to the camp. He naturally asked what I purposed doing. I told him that it appeared to me more than probable that the Morumbidgee would hold its course good to some fixed point, now that it had reached a meridian beyond the known rivers of the interior. It was certain, from the denseness of the reeds, and the breadth of the belts, that the teams could not be brought any further, and that, taking everything into consideration, I had resolved on a bold and desperate measure, that of building the whaleboat, and sending home the drays.

Our appearance in camp so suddenly surprised the men not more than the orders I gave. They all thought I had struck on some remarkable change of country, and were anxious to know my ultimate views. It was not my intention, however, immediately to satisfy their curiosity. I had to study their characters as long as I could in order to select those best qualified to accompany me on the desperate adventure for which I was preparing.

[Sturt accordingly built the whaleboat and embarked on the river.]

Jan. 14th. The men looked anxiously out ahead, for the singular change in the river had impressed on them an idea that we were approaching its termination, or near some adventure. On a sudden, the river took a general southern direction, but, in its tortuous course, swept round to every point of the compass with the greatest irregularity. We were carried at a fearful rate down its gloomy and contracted banks, and, in such a moment of excitement, had little time to pay attention to the country through which we were passing. It was, however, observed that chalybeate springs were numerous close to the water's edge. At 3 p.m. Hopkinson called out that we were approaching a junction, and in less than a minute afterwards we were hurried into a broad and noble river.

It is impossible for me to describe the effect of so instantaneous a change upon us. The boats were allowed to drift along at pleasure, and such was the force with which we had been shot out of the Morumbidgee that we were carried nearly to the bank opposite its embouchure, whilst we continued to gaze in silent astonishment at the capacious channel we had entered; and when we looked for that by which we had been led into it, we could hardly believe that the insignificant gap that presented itself to us was, indeed, the termination of the beautiful and noble stream whose course we had thus successfully followed. I can only compare the relief we experienced to that which the seaman feels on weathering the rock upon which he expected his vessel to have struck, to the calm which succeeds moments of feverish anxiety, when the dread of danger is succeeded by certainty of escape.

Jan. 23rd. Not having as yet given a name to our first discovery, I laid it down as the Murray River in compliment to the distinguished officer Sir George Murray, who then presided over the Colonial Department, not only in compliance with the known wishes of His Excellency, General Darling, but also in accordance with my own feelings as a soldier.

[They continued their course down the Murray till Feb. 9.]

After pulling a mile or two we found a clear horizon before us to the south. The hills still continued upon our left, but we could not see any elevation over the expanse of reeds to our right. The river inclined to the left, and swept the base of the hills that still continued on that side. I consequently landed once more to survey the country.

I still retained a strong impression on my mind that some change was at hand, and on this occasion I was not disappointed, but the view was one for which I was not altogether prepared. We had at length arrived at the termination of the Murray. Immediately below me was a beautiful lake, which appeared to be a fitting reservoir for the noble stream that led us to it; and which was now ruffled by the breeze that swept over it. The ranges were more distinctly visible, stretching from south to north, and were certainly distant forty miles. They had a regular unbroken outline; declining gradually to the south, but terminating abruptly at a lofty mountain northerly. I had no doubt on my mind of this being the Mount Lofty of Captain Flinders; or that the range was that immediately to the eastward of St. Vincent's Gulf. Between us and the ranges a beautiful promontory shot into the lake, being a continuation of the right bank of the Murray. Over this promontory the waters stretched to the base of the ranges, and formed an extensive bay. To the S.W. a bold headland showed itself; beyond which, to the westward, there was a clear and open sea visible, through a strait formed by this headland and a point projecting from the opposite shore. Even while gazing on this fine scene, I could not but regret that the Murray had thus terminated; for I immediately foresaw that, in all probability, we should be disappointed in finding any practicable communication between the lake and the ocean, as it was evident that the former was not much influenced by tides. We pitched our tents on a low track of land that stretched away seemingly for many miles directly behind us to the eastward. It was of the richest soil, being of a black vegetable deposit, and although high above the influence the lake had, it was evident, once formed a part of its bed. Thirty-three days had now passed over our heads since we left the depot upon the Morumbidgee, twenty-six of which had been passed upon the Murray. We had, at length, arrived at the grand reservoir of those waters whose course and fate had previously been involved in such obscurity.

I took Fraser with me, and, accompanied by M'Leay, crossed the sand-hummocks behind us, and descended to the sea-shore. I found that we had struck the south coast deep in the bight of Encounter Bay. We had no time for examination, but returned immediately to the camp, as I intended to give the men an opportunity to go to the beach. They accordingly went and bathed, and returned not only highly delighted at this little act of good nature on my part, but loaded with cockles, a bed of which they had managed to find among the sand. Clayton had tied one end of his shirt up, and brought a bag full, and amused himself with boiling cockles all night long.

I would fain have lingered on my way to examine, as far as circumstances would permit, the beautiful country between the lake and the ranges; and it was with heartfelt sorrow that I yielded to necessity. My men were, indeed, very weak from poverty of diet and from great bodily fatigue. Hopkinson, Mulholland, and Macnamee were miserably reduced.

It will be borne in mind that our difficulties were just about to commence, when those of most other travellers have ceased; and that instead of being assisted by the stream whose course we had followed, we had now to contend against the united waters of the eastern ranges, with diminished strength, and in some measure with disappointed feelings.

Under the most favourable circumstances, it was improbable that the men would be enabled to pull for many days longer in succession since they had not rested upon their oars for a single day, if I except our passage across the lake, from the moment when we started from the depot; nor was it possible for me to buoy them up with the hope even of a momentary cessation of labour. We had calculated the time to which our supply of provisions would last under the most favourable circumstances, and it was only in the event of our pulling up against the current, day after day, the same distance we had compassed with the current in our favour, that we could hope they would last as long as we continued in the Murray. But in the event of floods or any unforeseen delay, it was impossible to calculate at what moment we might be driven to extremity.

On the other hand, it was sufficiently evident to me that the men were too much exhausted to perform the task that was before them without assistance, and that it would be necessary both for M'Leay and myself to take our share of labour at the oars. The cheerfulness and satisfaction that my young friend evinced at the opportunity that was thus afforded him of making himself useful, and of relieving those under him from some portion of their toil, at the same time that they increased my sincere esteem for him, were nothing more than what I expected from one who had endeavoured by every means in his power to contribute to the success of that enterprise upon which he had embarked. But although I have said thus much of the exhausted condition of the men, I would by no means be understood to say that they flagged for a moment, or that a single murmur escaped them. No reluctance was visible, no complaint was heard, but there was that in their aspect and appearance which they could not hide, and which I could not mistake. We re-entered the river on the 13th under as fair prospects as we could have desired. The gale which had blown with such violence in the morning gradually abated, and a steady breeze enabled us to pass our first encampment, by availing ourselves of it as long as daylight continued.

Feb. 18th. The breezes that had so much assisted us from the lake upwards, had now lost their influence, or failed to reach to the distance we had gained. Calms succeeded them, and obliged us to labour continually at the oars. We lost ground fast, and it was astonishing to remark how soon the men's spirits drooped again under their first efforts. They fancied the boat pulled heavily and that her bottom was foul, but such was not the case. The current was not so strong as when we passed down, since the river had evidently fallen more than a foot, and was so shallow in several places that we were obliged to haul the boat over them. On these occasions we were necessarily obliged to get out of her into the water, and had afterwards to sit still and to allow the sun to dry our clothes upon us. The unemployed consequently envied those at the oars, as they sat shivering in their dripping clothes.

I have omitted to mention one remarkable trait of the good disposition of all the men while on the coast. Our sugar had held out to that point; but it appeared when we examined the stores that six pounds alone remained in the cask. This the men positively refused to touch. They said that, divided, it would benefit nobody; that they hoped M'Leay and I would use it, that it would last us for some time, and that they were better able to submit to privations than we were. The feeling did them infinite credit, and the circumstance is not forgotten by me. The little supply the kindness of our men left to us was, however, soon exhausted, and poor M'Leay preferred pure water to the bitter draught that remained. I have been sometimes unable to refrain from smiling as I watched the distorted countenances of my humble companions while drinking their tea and eating their damper.

March 17th. We had been drawing nearer the Morumbidgee every day; and the following afternoon, to our great joy, we turned our boat into the gloomy and narrow channel of the tributary. Our feelings were almost as strong when we re-entered it as they had been when we were launched from it into that river, on whose waters we had continued for upwards of fifty-five days; during which period, including the sweeps and bends it made, we could not have travelled less than 1,500 miles.

Our daily journeys were short, and the head we made against the stream but trifling. The men lost the proper and muscular jerk with which they once made the waters foam and the oars bend. Their whole bodies swung with an awkward and laboured motion. Their arms appeared to be nerveless; their faces became haggard, their persons emaciated, their spirits wholly sunk; nature was so completely overcome, that from mere exhaustion they frequently fell asleep during their painful and almost ceaseless exertions. It grieved me to the heart to see them in such a state at the close of so perilous a service, and I began to reproach Robert Harris that he did not move down the river to meet us; but, in fact, he was not to blame. I became captious, and found fault where there was no occasion, and lost the equilibrium of my temper in contemplating the condition of my companions. No murmur, however, escaped them, nor did a complaint reach me that was intended to indicate that they had done all they could do. I frequently heard them in their tent, when they thought I had dropped asleep, complaining of severe pains, and of great exhaustion. "I must tell the Captain, to-morrow," some of them would say, "that I can pull no longer." To-morrow came, and they pulled on, as if reluctant to yield to circumstances. Macnamee at length lost his senses. We first observed this from his incoherent conversation, but eventually from his manner. He related the most extraordinary tales and fidgetted about eternally while in the boat. I felt it necessary, therefore, to relieve him from the oars.

April 12th. I determined on sending Hopkinson and Mulholland, whose devotion, intelligence and indefatigable spirits I well knew, forward to the plain.

The joy this intimation spread was universal. Both Hopkinson and Mulholland readily undertook the journey, and I, accordingly, prepared orders for them to start by the earliest dawn.

Six days had passed since their departure; we remaining encamped. I had calculated on seeing Hopkinson again in eight days, but as the morrow would see us without food, I thought, as the men had had a little rest, it would be better to advance towards relief than to await its arrival.

On the evening of the 18th, therefore, we buried our specimens and other stores, intending to break up the camp in the morning. A singular bird, which invariably passed it at an hour after sunset, and which, from the heavy flight, appeared to be of unusual size, had so attracted my notice, that in the evening M'Leay and I crossed the river in hope to get a shot at it. We had, however, hardly landed on the other side, when a loud shout called us back to witness the return of our comrades.

They were both of them in a state that beggars description. Their knees and ankles were dreadfully swollen and their limbs so painful that as soon as they arrived in the camp they sunk under their efforts, but they met us with a smiling countenance and expressed their satisfaction at having come so seasonably to our relief. They had, as I had foreseen, found Robert Harris on the plain, which they reached on the evening of the third day. They had started early the next morning on their return with such supplies as they thought we might immediately want. Poor Macnamee had in a great measure recovered, but for some days he was sullen and silent; the sight of the drays gave him uncommon satisfaction. Clayton gorged himself; but M'Leay, myself, and Fraser could not at first relish the meat that was placed before us.