John Brockman
“…were struck with terror at the sudden appearance of this new, dreadful enemy, the white man…”
From “The Northern Times”:
On April 4, 1875, John Brockman left Geraldton with a dray, several white stockmen, five horses, a large mob of cattle, provisions, and an invaluable Aboriginal assistant whose name was Nannup.
Brockman wrote in his diary: “Breakfast was out of the question as we had to save the little drop of water left in the bags (about a pint in each) in case we did not find water that day. … We had a hot day before us. We pushed on walking and driving our poor half-famished horses before us. At 1pm we halted at a small clump of shady gumtrees for a few hours’ rest. Here we finished the last remaining water in our bags.”
They pushed on later in the day “almost in a dream.” After dark they spread their rugs on the ground and slept, exhausted.
Nannup went off shortly before daylight to bring in the horses while Brockman strapped together the camp gear in readiness for another long, hot and thirsty day. As he toiled, his thoughts were interrupted by a shout. Looking up, Brockman saw the Aboriginal man coming towards him with the horses, “and holding something in his hand.”
It was precious water. The grazing horses had found a spring. Nannup had brought some back for him in a crude cadgeput vessel fashioned from bark.
John Brockman later reminisced: “I often think of, and see in my mind’s eye, that beautiful flowing spring … I can never forget the smile that lit up his good, honest, black face as he handed me that drink of glorious fresh water. Poor Nannup, he had been with me since he was quite a small boy, and no man had a more faithful servant. He has long gone (and while yet young) to his long rest, and has left with me the memory of all his good faithful service, which I shall never cease to remember …”
In the drover’s overland travels to explore the North West river country, numerous sightings were made of Aborigines who watched the white men from a distance, but quickly disappeared into the scrub if approached.
“They were as wild as kangaroos,” the diarist noted, “and all our overtures of friendship were disregarded …”
Once, while surveying the country ahead for a safe route, Brockman and Nannup discovered a flint deposit still used by the Aborigines for spear and axe heads, as well as trading items with neighbouring tribes.
“I learnt afterwards that the natives broke off a large piece of flint and kept on chipping small pieces from it, watching all the time for pieces of the shape and size required. As these fly off, they are carefully picked up and placed on one side until a sufficient quantity is obtained; hence, the little heaps of chips are left.”
In the region of the Murchison River, the leader observed: “ … Very few natives in that part … had ever seen a white man. They were terribly afraid of us, and naturally looked upon us as deadly enemies. Our horses were considered by them (as I learnt afterwards) as so many gigantic dogs, ready at a word from their riders to tear them to pieces. No wonder then, that these poor people with their primitive weapons and their firm belief in the supernatural were struck with terror at the sudden appearance of this new, dreadful enemy, the white man. It was difficult in the extreme to get on an amicable footing with them.”
Searching the land north-east of the Murchison, the pioneer overlander “followed along the bank of a creek which … flowed into the Gascoyne.”
The drovers and their stock “camped near a large pool” on the Gascoyne River where they shot 7 ducks for roasting on the coals of their camp fires.
“The day of June 7, 1875, fixed on our final start for the Gascoyne will long be remembered by me,” Brockman later reminisced. “The pleasures, the remembrance of how all those under me worked day and night for upwards of 50 consecutive hours in the parched wilderness, through terrific heat, without any rest and with only a crust of damper, or mouthful or two of meat and a drink from a waterbag that was brought round to them at intervals by a man on horseback …”
Travelling with a mob of almost 300 head of pregnant cows on the verge of calving, the Brockman team were faced with constant logistical problems.
He wrote: “For two reasons it was imperative that I should push on with all possible speed – first, on account of the advancing hot weather which would dry up all the shallow pools … Secondly, the summer would soon be upon us and now we had the great dividing range between the Gascoyne and Lyons River to get over which, from all I heard, was rocky and very bad travelling, and the water supply uncertain … To accomplish this, I had to kill all the young calves as they came, and to force the young mothers on with the herd … The poor cows would go back each night to where their calves were killed, and every day for hundreds of miles a division of the party were constantly employed to bring up these cows. Having to kill so many beautiful calves was a cruel necessity, but there was no alternative.”
Brockman and one of his men, Robert Heppingstone, surveyed the landscape between the Gascoyne and Lyons Rivers, trying to find the route with the best water supply and to ascertain the least stony country.
“Oh, and what a trouble it was,” he wrote in his diary. “No-one who has not experienced it can imagine what it is to have to DRIVE and THRASH hundreds of poor animals whose feet are ground down to the quick, over stony ridges and gravelly plains, where every step made is really marked with blood.”
As the droving party moved the cattle through an opening in the rocks at the top of the Kennedy Ranges, where the land sloped down to the Lyons River, a group of taunting Aborigines appeared dancing about and rattling their spears in a threatening manner. Four of the mounted white men charged the Aborigines on horseback, causing them to scatter in all directions.
“We cut off two of them who were terribly frightened,” Brockman recorded in his journal, “and no doubt expected to be instantly despatched. They stuck to their spears which were terrible looking weapons, freshly barbed and pointed … They carried spare barb points, about 10 inches long, fixed to their arms. The womeras (sic) were neatly carved and ornamented. They were fierce, wild looking fellows and gave us to understand that we were to go our way and they would go theirs. They appeared to be quite astonished at our leaving them unhurt.”
John Brockman and his drovers traversed the North West via the Alma, Henry, Ashburton, Fortescue, Cane and Robe Rivers to deliver their mob of cattle to various pastoralists. During his long, torturous, overland journey, they had only one and a half per cent loss of their cattle tally, plus one horse.
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