Monday, 4th June, 1838

I am sitting, in the rain, on the beach at Rapid Bay, in a tent that barely promises to provide any degree of shelter. Despite Stevenson's assurances, we were not met by whalers with horses or indeed, whalers without horses. We arrived just before sunset and while it was light, hope remained and we stood around in the rain, waiting on the beach until darkness fell. At that time we set up the tents and then sat around in the rain instead.

Stevenson's continuing assurances that the whalers will certainly be here at first light tomorrow sound increasingly hollow, but despite all he maintains a sublime and blissful confidence that come the dawn we shall hear, see and probably smell, whalers in our midst.

This is simply the icing on the cake of a most curious day. It began with Mrs Hindmarsh shilly shallying as usual. Despite having said that we would meet Captain Lipson and his ketch at Glenelg at nine in the morning, her preparations for our excursion stretched out so long that we eventually boarded the boat at nearly a half past the hour of ten, and did not get underway until eleven.

The result was that we had barely reached the mouth of the Onkaparinga River before the party declared that it was time for luncheon. Milner Stephen, who had suffered from mal de mer from almost the moment we hauled up the anchor, did not, I fancy, feel at all peckish, but the rest of the party drew up on the beach for a selection of Lucrezia Harvey's cold delights.

Whilst we were wondering what we should do with the large portion we had failed to stomach a group of natives appeared at the top of the dunes behind the beach. Suddenly one gave a great cry and began to run toward us. Stevenson and Milner Stephen seemed to think that their end had come, while Mrs Hindmarsh, with admirable fortitude, armed herself with a parasol. I, however, had noticed that the man was not shouting in anger, but was, in fact, laughing. 

He stopped directly in front of me and addressed me with a great grin on his face. It was then that I saw that he had a cord slung across his shoulder and that the cord included strips of blue woollen blanket. I realised that this must be one of the men who had come to our camp at the Paddy Will Linger Lagoon in January last year, when Stuart and Alford went hunting for lost horses and that, clearly, he had recognised me.

I shook him by the hand and he showed me the blanket strips that he had used to make the cord. I can take a hint as well as the next man and led him down to the boat, where I had another blanket stowed. I gave it to him and he seemed as pleased as Punch, heading back into the sand hills with it, no doubt to show it to his fellows.

Shortly after this encounter we made to head on our way, leaving the remains of Widow Harvey's lunch for the gulls, several of whom were eyeing it doubtfully. Just as we were about to launch the boat there was a shout and three natives appeared and gave us a dozen fish, clearly in return for the blanket.

As I have said we arrived at Rapid Bay just on sunset and so have had little opportunity to inspect the site. We were expecting to find whalers and an established campsite, but of course were disappointed. If the whalers disappointed us, the Native's gift of fish did not and we ate with much satisfaction after Lipson built us a fire. 

I then had the rare experience of watching Mrs Hindmarsh attempting to get into a camp stretcher to sleep for the night. She displayed a level of apprehension, awkwardness and incomprehension at her situation such that she gave an impression of nothing other than a sheep called upon to perform on a tightrope. She is currently lying stock still upon the thing, convinced that the slightest movement will either see her tumble out of the thing or have it collapse beneath her.

As yet I have managed to not laugh or even snigger, but it is a near run thing and the slightest slip will, I feel sure, bring the most terrible consequences. Mrs Hindmarsh has already made mention of the blanket I gave to the Onkaparinga man and has made it clear that I gave away my blanket and not hers.

Well, for the cost of a blanket I feel I have done something to advance the good relations between the natives and ourselves. The friendliness with which we were met seems to me to be a vindication of my thoughts on those we have found here already.

I am surrounded by people keen to attempt "to deal with the Native Problem". It is my opinion that if we spent a bit less time treating them as "a problem to be solved" and rather more time treating them as fellows and neighbours we might all achieve something. But I fear my view is the minority one and, if I am recalled to London, that minority will drop from "One Vote" to "None at all".

And I cannot help think, having seen some of the problem solvers, that the solution may not be an equitable one.