Notes on the Harbour: From "The South Australian Colonial Gazette and Register. 12th August 1837

(Editors Note: These Cuttings from the Colonial Gazette and Register were placed between the pages of the Hindmarsh's diary. A transcription appears below.) 

THE HARBOUR AT PORT ADELAIDE.

We have great satisfaction of laying before our readers the following notes which His Excellency the Governor has done us the honour to address to us regarding the report made by Mr. Wood, Master of H.M.S. Buffalo, published in our last number. We now reprint that report, and subjoin His Excellency's observations to the paragraphs of that document to which they refer.

To the Editor of the South Australian Gazette. 
An official report respecting Port Adelaide, from Mr. Wood, Master of H.M.S. Buffalo, having appeared in the South Australian Gazette of this date, the Governor requests that the Editor will have the goodness to republish it in the next number, with the accompanying remarks, made by the Governor at the time he received the report from Mr. Wood.  

The Governor is induced to make this request in order to prevent the unfavourable impression which Mr. Wood's report would tend to create amongst the shipping interest both at home and in the neighbouring colonies. The facts stated by the Governor will be found to differ materially from those of Mr. Wood; their accuracy can easily be ascertained. The Governor trusts that his professional opinions recorded in his remarks upon these facts, will tend to place the question of the merits of Port Adelaide in a fair point of view.

Government House, 29th July, 1837. 

MR. WOOD'S REPORT. H. M. S. Buffalo at anchor off Glenelg Plains, South Australia, March 4th, 1837. 

Sir—Having complied with your orders, and separately weighed every circumstance attending getting into the harbour of Adelaide, with H. M. S. Buffalo under your command, I beg leave to furnish some remarks, with the most faithful report I can conscientiously make, as I am bound in duty to acquit myself towards you, and to be concerned for the safety of the ship and all on board, I therefore respectfully submit that the wind, weather, and tides cannot be depended upon, more particularly in the vicinity of what I deem the most intricate part, approaching the harbour, but so variable and uncertain have they been found since our arrival, that they have been remarked to be much less steady than in any other place." 

First Note by the Governor. 

Mr. Wood is correct in stating that the tides are irregular—i.e., it is difficult to at calculate within two hours when it will be high water. It may however be said generally to take place about six a.m., and about three p.m. But the time is subject to a range, nearly two hours without any apparent cause — it being sometimes high water an early as half past five, and sometimes as late as half past seven. The amount of the rise and fall depends upon the wind and weather; but is usually considerably greater under similar circumstances at fall and change.  

As to the winds, if Mr. Wood means that they are irregular also, I confess myself quite of a different opinion. The winds have greater regularity here than I ever observed any where out of the tropics. The sea breeze usually sets in from the westward about noon. — It veers gradually towards the south, increasing in strength for three or four hours. It reaches south about sunset, when its strength begins to decrease— still continuing to veer in the same direction, and decreasing in strength, it becomes the land breeze during the night. By daybreak it reaches north; greater part of the forenoon, still veering in the same direction, very light airs or cubit; and this regularity round the compass each twenty-four hours has been constant about five days out of every seven since my arrival on the 28th of December. 

The days on which this regular round does not take place, it usually blows hard—frequently almost a smart gale; but even these have a regularity as extraordinary—commencing about N.W., and veering slowly towards the south; and so soon as it gets to the southward of S.W. by S., it may be calculated upon with certainty that the gale is breaking up. 

" The bar, with other banks of sand near it, I found very dangerous, and the entrance not more than the breadth of a ship of large burthen, and although the highest water may rather exceed three fathoms, at spring tides the lowest water is barely one fathom and a quarter, which was also found to be the case on another considerable space or bar, at the distance of more than four miles. The channel between these two bars being generally in width little more than the length of a large ship, and open to the most frequent and violent winds prevailing on this part of the coast, and not admitting of tacking and wearing, or anchoring; with any certainty of safety, should there be occasion to do so quickly." 

SECOND NOTE BY THE GOVERNOR. 

The bar possess no peculiar danger, I have not found a rocky spot any where on this coast, and when the channel shall be properly buoyed, I conceive there will be no dangers whatever if the proper time of tide be watched. This watching will always be necessary in a large vessel, from the irregularity of the time of high water—as to the width of the entrance of the bar it exceeds the length instead of the breadth of the largest ships. Off the inner point of Point Malcolm, there is about the same depth of water as on the bar, and may therefore be called the inner bar. The distance between them is nearly as Mr. Wood states, but with regard to the width of the channel he is altogether in error; for instead of its being only the length of a large ship, there is no part narrower than one cubit's length, some parts bring three cables length; the general average being about two. The William Hutt turned in through this channel with the wind right out, and I consider this channel to be a safe temporary anchorage all over; and even should a ship take the ground in this channel, it would generally be attended with no danger what-ever, as she would then be within the protection of the bar. 

" It is necessary to have high water to cross the sea bar, and the tide off the coast being very little influenced by this entrance it would be better to wait and have slack water, or it will run obliquely to the channel whilst you are passing the most dangerous parts, so that a large ship must wait for another day tide, before she can have sufficient water to cross the second bar, subject to changes of weather, for twenty-four hours, or probably longer; and should the wind blow across the channel, the dependance of riding safely will be on a short scope of cable. Therefore, a ship of heavy burthen like the Buffalo, by any accident whatever, touching the ground, and not got off immediately, which is most likely to happen at this time of tide, some damage might reasonably be expected to happen to an old ship like her, or by blowing hard, a total loss, or some such calamity, before any assistance could be procured; indeed, none but our own resources could be expected, being twenty miles from either locality." 

THIRD NOTE BY THE GOVERNOR. 

This I believe to be speculation against fact, as on the many occasions, I passed the bar near, and at high water, the tide invariably ran a channel course. Mr. Wood was there on one occasion when it blew hard, which I have not been. As it is generally calm about high water in the morning tide, it would be advisable to haul a large ship over, or tow her over before the flood is done, the bar not exceeding half a cable's length; she will then have plenty of room to anchor to wait for the sea breeze, as my note No. 2 shews. If the ship cannot be got over the flat off Point Malcolm, which Mr. Wood calls the second bar, she can at least be placed in perfect security from all winds, and in a space three cable's length wide, and this too in the very spot Mr. Wood says is only equal to the length of a ship. Damage might accrue to any ship getting ashore; the Buffalo, however, notwithstanding her age, works less in a gale of wind, and shews more signs of strength than almost any ship I ever sailed in. 

" A bar harbour is generally to be approached with caution, and requires long practice, but more so when the breadth of the channel and depth of water are so nearly alike; the ship's breadth and draught, which in this instance would be the case, making the steerage rather difficult. After remaining on the spot for several days attentively sounding and examining in the locality of the harbour, the sea channel, and the other parts best and chiefly suited for vessels, I found that the Buffalo, throughout the greatest part of the inside harbour, would sew at low tides from three to five feet, and there was only one anchorage, in an inconvenient part of it, of moderate extent, that the ship could be moored in any commonly decent manner, I mean to say, in such as would be considered suitable for the security of a king's ship, during the worst season of the year." 

FOURTH VOTE BY THE GOVERNOR. 

One good spot to moor the Buffalo in would have sufficed for that ship. The harbour is doubtless better calculated for vessels of three hundred tons, than for such ships as the Buffalo. She could, however, I have no doubt, be taken into Port Adelaide, and there safely and properly moored in five fathoms water, and as the greatest rise and fall is under twelve feet, rarely exceeding eight or nine feet, she would never touch. 

"In offering this statement, my best judgment has been used, aided by the experience of upwards of forty years in constant employment, out of which twenty-eight were passed in His Majesty's service, bearing the responsibility of Master in one or other ships of war, acting as pilot in all cases during that period, happily without an accident, which leads me to declare, that I would not risk or attempt to recommend a vessel of more than between three or four hundred tons, or drawing more than twelve to thirteen feet, to use the harbour at present." 

FIFTH NOTE BY THE GOVERNOR.

 Mr. Wood states that the sea reach, which is near four miles in length, is very little broader than the length of a large ship. I sounded this reach in my gig, sailing across and across, about the outer two and a half miles, with the wind abeam, and going at least six knots, and had sufficient time to get from seven to nine casts of the lead on each board, tacking on either side on shoaling to fifteen feet water. I therefore estimate the breadth of the reach in this part to be not one hundred and fifty feet, as the report would lead to suppose, but from one thousand to eighteen hundred feet, find that it is nowhere less than a cable's length. I do not see how Mr. Wood's long service can alter facts, however they might tend to give weight to his opinions.

Sunday, 6th August 1837

Like an old Portsmouth tart there seems to be no end to the things Fisher will do for money.

But I fear that unlike an old Portsmouth tart he does not have the good sense to realise that no-one will believe his claims to be pure and innocent.

The rumours that were about the colony regarding Fisher and his irregular sales of oxen, cows and pork that I have written of previously (Editor's note: See entry for Sunday, 16th July 1837) came to a head just recently when a letter was written, anonymously, to Stevenson in his capacity of Newspaper Editor stating the rumours as fact and demanding an explanation from the half man half rabbit. Scoop Stevenson, who can sniff out a story the way a hound sniffs out a badger, informed Fisher of his intention to publish and asked for comment.

Fisher, whom few doubt has been fiddling like Nero, responded by getting on his high horse, saying that "it was not his habit to respond to anonymous letters".

He then started dropping dark hints about the town regarding legal actions for libel and seeking redress for "the damage to his reputation", though I cannot help but suggest that the business did not damage so much as confirm his reputation.

In the meantime he has been sending out a shower of notices to all and sundry demanding to know if they are the anonymous letter writer. Really, all we have not had is pistols at dawn and I think that we have not only because Fisher has been unable to find out who exactly he needs to be shooting.

With any luck Fisher will gather his skirts, flounce about and resign from the Council again. He has already done so twice, each time to return when his flunkies - Brown and Mann - beg him to stay. Perhaps the third time will be the charm and he can spend more time at home producing another gross of offspring.

I am pleased to be able to add "published author" to "Knight of the Royal Hanoverian Order", "Governor and Commander in Chief of His Majesty's Colony of South Australia" and "Hero of the Battle of the Nile" to my string of accomplishments.

That ninny James Wood the "Master" of the Buffalo wrote a report for Stevenson which was published in the last edition of the Gazette decrying the harbour at Port Adelaide as unsafe and unsuitable.

Of course, Wood is an incompetent who is confused if you place a paper boat in his bath water, but really, I can't be allowing shipping interests at home and in the other colonies to think that we have no decent harbour here.

As a result I spent three pleasant days sailing about the river this week, measuring and surveying and disproving his claims point by point. I have written this up and it is to be published by Stevenson in his next printing. I look forward to it!

My sailing at the Port combined with a horse ride with Strangways to the summit of Mount Lofty means that I have had quite the time in the open air. And, may I say, despite that fool Hutchison's febrile melodrama about his ascent of the summit, I found it no more than a pleasant day's ride.

But I fear I have saved the worst news till last.

I received during the week a lengthy complaint from Light, telling me that I had belittled his reputation, decried his abilities, held him up to ridicule and trampled any friendship remaining between us into the dust!.

Naturally, I was at a loss to understand where this ill feeling could have originated. Ask any who know me and they will tell you that I am of the sunniest, good-hearted disposition and that it is not in my nature to speak ill of others.

However, I have since learned the source of this dissension and disharmony. Last week Sam Stephens came to the house "to share a bottle of Indian whiskey with his old friend The Governor". It transpires that the following evening he went to share a bottle of Indian whiskey with his old friend the Surveyor-General.

Now I admit that, influenced by the spirit of the Sub-continent, I may - MAY - have offered one or two opinions of an unnecessary frankness regarding Light. And I suggest that, misheard and misunderstood by an inebriate Stephens, these opinions might have appeared less than flattering, especially when related in alcoholically misremembered form to a Surveyor feeling the warmth of liquorous imbibulation.

But I am certain I feel no ill will towards Light and see all this as proof that strong drink and discretion are not able to share a bed. What particularly saddens me is that it is only a month ago that I invited Light to dinner with us and we shared a splendid evening sharing stories and laughing together at times past.

Well, now I need to write to Light and try to pour oil on troubled waters - or at least try. It is not a letter I look forward to writing, as even if I said half of what Light remembers Stephens as reporting then I should be, sadly, ashamed of myself. Please God that Mrs Hindmarsh doesn't hear of this or I'll never hear the end of it.

Sunday, 30th July, 1837

I note with some regret that so intent have I been upon recording the practice of government in this fledgling colony, that I have neglected to sufficiently record happenings of a more familial character.

Of my wife I can say little. It is said that amongst adherents of the Roman Church it is not uncommon for them to secretly wear a shirt of haircloth against the skin as a mortification for wrong doings and a penance. I feel that I am doing something similar with Mrs Hindmarsh. I am laying up treasure in Heaven.

She spends much of her time here at the Vice Regal Palace. I try not to take her out too often for fear of frightening small children and horses, but she accompanies me to Sunday Services each week and follows along when my official duties require me to attend some function where I cut a ribbon, or tell some colonist what an asset he is or grease the wheels of civilised society generally.

Speaking of which, up until recently Charlie Howard has been boring for God and Country beneath the sail that I still suspect he acquired by foul means. However, with the winter months coming in he decided that religion en pleine air was quite impractical and so he has moved services into the new, albeit temporary, Court House that Old Gilles stumped up the cash for. (Two bottles of gin and the man grants wishes like the genie of the lamp in some inebriate pantomime)

To be fair, we have repaid O.G.'s investment by naming the Courthouse the Gilles Building and the laneway outside, Gilles Arcade.

So this morning we all trotted over to the courthouse to hear one of Charlie Howard's finest. Ninety fruity minutes on Hebrews 6:1-6:

Therefore leaving the principles of the doctrine of Christ, let us go on unto perfection; not laying again the foundation of repentance from dead works, and of faith toward God, of the doctrine of baptisms, and of laying on of hands, and of resurrection of the dead, and of eternal judgment. And this will we do, if God permit. For it is impossible for those who were once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come, if they shall fall away, to renew them again unto repentance; seeing they crucify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame.

Or, at least, it would have been ninety minutes of vintage Howard, except that at the seventy-five minute mark, just as Charlie, his countenance ablaze with prophetic fire, turned into the home stretch, I leaned back to check my watch and be buggered! if the vice regal wooden bench, graced by the arses of His Excellency, the Governor; his good lady wife; and his three daughters didn't tilt over backwards, falling to the floor with a crash that woke most of the congregation and sent me and my family bum over bosom.

Of course all but two in the room thought it hilarious. The exceptions were, naturally, Mrs Hindmarsh, who felt that she had been made "an undignified object of derision" (although, in truth, I think that she was more upset at the thought that the colonists of Adelaide might have seen that her drawers were patched) And the other was the Reverend Howard who, sad to say, had his train of thought interrupted just as he was coming to a particularly knotty question regarding "the powers of the world to come".

He never really regained his form and, as a result, even though he carried on manfully for a further twenty minutes, the congregation could only manage a doze and not really attain the deep, restful slumber granted by Howard in peak condition and at the height of his powers

John, my son, treats me with all the disdain and lack of patrial respect natural to a son aged seventeen. I am, it seems, out of touch with all that is new and have no understanding of what seventeen year old boys really want. Actually, I have a pretty damned good idea of what it is that seventeen year old boys want and I can assure him that he'll be having none of it!

My daughters are just as silly as ever, but it appears that this has not stopped them from becoming the darlings of the colony. They suddenly find themselves the sinecure of all men's eyes and the object of all men's desires. They, of course, believe that this has something to do with their own natural vivacity, youthful vitality and beauteous charms. It is, perhaps, cruel to disabuse them of these vapid notions, but the truth is that it appears that any number of young men aspiring to greater things are willing to ignore: their tedious talk of trashy novels; their mooning over the dream-like characteristics of Herr Liszt and Herr Schumann; their inane giggling; their plain looks; and their obsession with horses; and still declare themselves as my daughter's suitors if it means having access to and perhaps even influence with me. The girls, naturally, have declared me a beast for saying so and their mother has, inevitably, sided with them. So, once again, if we had a dog house, I would be in it.

On Wednesday last I arrived home to discover Sammy Stephens sitting in my kitchen. It appears the he did, indeed, tell dour David McLaren, the Scotch Baptist his risible anecdote regarding Adam and Eve and the cucumber and, as a result it has been suggested that he head to Encounter Bay to inspect the Company's whaling station there. It is typical of Sam's lack of practical thought that he traveled from Kingscote to Encounter Bay via Adelaide, just so he could share a bottle of Indian Whiskey with "his dear friend, the Governor".

Sam Stephens, of course, is a riot on legs, but we shared a pleasant evening together before I sent him on his way.

I had a visit from Gouger who told me that the Commissioners in London saw fit to include a Library of one hundred and seventeen books for us all here in the Colony. He had a catalogue of the page turners with him. "A Report of the Commissioners of Sierra Leone". "An Account of the Millbank Penitentiary". Every one a cracking read. Just the ticket to boost morale.

In London these books were packed into a metal trunk (I suspect they had 120, but could only manage to jam in 117. I hope the three left out were not something people would actually want to read.) and loaded aboard The Tam O'Shanter before it left Plymouth for the Colony.

Ah, yes, The Tam O'Shanter. Captained by that prize arse Whiteman Freeman who won his Captain's papers at a coconut shy and managed to run aground on a sandbar in the Port River.

Gouger isn't sure quite what happened, as there are different reports. Some say that the trunk of books was loaded into a dingy, but unsecured and Freeman and his crew of clowns watched it slide off the boat and into the water as they brought it ashore. Other reports, the which I find more credible, say that they tried to float it ashore. Think on that for a moment. They tried to float a metal trunk ashore.

Still, whatever happened, the consequence was that The State Library of South Australia ended up at the bottom of the Port River.

Oh, they fished it out and drained out the water, but it's taken poor old Gouger this long, what with one thing and another, to get the books dry and back to a presentable condition.

And now he wants to know where he can put them.

I restrained myself from the obvious riposte, but honestly: having seen the list of books in the trunk I cannot help but feel that the bottom of the Port River is as good a place as any. Still, I suppose we will have to find somewhere for them, but at the moment they are sitting in the corner of my bedroom.

Honestly - State Library: the tin trunk next to the commode. State Archives: third drawer down on the left side of my desk. If someone suggests a State Forestry I can see my vegetable garden going.

The mad poisoner asked if there were any cook books in the trunk. "Not that it matters," she said, "as cooking like mine don't come from no cook books."

Indeed.

Sunday, 23rd July 1837

A  difficult week this week as I  decided - wrongly as it transpired - that the best way to get rid of all the remaining stock of pickled cabbage beer was to drink it up as quickly as was possible. Since I was unable to induce anyone else to touch the stuff it fell to me to finish it off. It took a deal of heavy work and intensive concentration, but eventually I polished off the remains of the barrel,

Sadly this meant that I spent the Council meeting this week feeling indisposed. In fact I have little recollection of the meeting at all and will need to peruse the written record in order to see if anything too ridiculous was either proposed or enacted by me or by one of the Council members.

Really, someone could have stuck an act to decree that all colonists paint their arses purple in front of me and I would have signed it. I may have done so already and just not know it yet.

They could have put the act in front of me I meant. Not an act decreeing that all colonists paint their arses purple in front of me. What a horrifying thought!

And God damn that greedy monkey Hack! A more money grubbing, parsimonious baboon I have never met!

Since arriving in February he has robbed the colonists blind with his exorbitant prices transporting from the Bay to the Town on his bullock dray and his stocks of stale weevilly flour that he brought with him from England for ninepence and now sells to all comers at prices that will line his pockets with gelt and leave all else poor. Greedy sod that he is.

And now he has upset most of the Colonists by undercutting them all in the tender process for the channel at the Port.

The Company wants a canal dug from what has become known as Tam O'Shanter Reach (after the ship of that name got stuck on a sandbar there due the Captain's utterly stupid incompetence) to the centre of Light's planned Port Town. Their notion is that a canal will make the loading and unloading of cargo all the easier. I think they see it as a test run for the canal from the Port to the River Torrens that Light and I suggested in a fit of prankish high spirits.

There were a number of tenders put forward, most of them saying that they could do the job for about the sum of six or seven hundred pounds or there abouts. Hack put in a tender of four hundred and twenty pounds and the  Company came in like the tide. Dangle a cheap price in front of them and stand by with the landing net, because they'll swallow that bait hook and line and all.

Brown I think it was had the good sense to ask the obvious question of  Hack: i.e. "How was it that every other tenderer couldn't see a way to do the job for less than nearly double what Hack said he could manage it for? If everyone else said seven hundred and Hack said four, where was Hack saving his money? Mightn't it be better to pay the extra and have a decent job of it done?"

Hack assured all that had ears to listen that his quote was the correct costing and all the others had padded theirs out with unnecessaries to line their pockets with government money - a thing not beyond the realm of possibility to be sure.

But I cannot help but feel that Fiddle Fingers Hack is playing the hat trick with us and quoting low in order to charge high. I fancy that once the job is done and he comes to settle up his accounts there will be a number of "onforeseen contingencies" and "unexpected adjustments" and the bill will blow out to exactly the same six or seven hundred pounds that all others tendered for. Of course, I may be wrong, but I am willing to wager that I am not. The Company has assured me that "they know what they are doing", and after I had recovered from a fit of uncontrolled laughter I took them at their word. I ceetainly would not take Hack at his.

The lovely Miss Gandy came to see me this week. She was accompanying Light up to town and she stopped by the Vice Regal Palace to see if Mrs Hindmarsh and I were at home. Since I try and let Mrs Hindmarsh out in public as little as possible, for fear of frightening children and horses, we were, indeed, at home and Miss Gandy spoke to the two of us at length regarding the situation of the natives.

It concerns her, as it does me, that we have arrived on what amounts to their estates without invitation or even a by your leave and propose to co-opt the lot for ourselves.

I am all too aware that the official position is that we are here to bring them to the light of Christianity and to give them the benefits of British society, but truly, when the best examples we have to offer of British Society are old Gilles, Fisher and Morphett and the Light of Christianity is held aloft by Charlie Howard then really I would hardly blame the natives if they told us to shove it where the monkey put the nuts.

Miss Gandy has made the admirable suggestion that we set aside some part of the plains solely for the use of the Natives. She says that the area of the plains far exceeds our use and it would be nothing but greed if we took it all for ouselves.

She had noticed on a map drawn by the Colonel that the Paddy Will Linger Lagoon forms the mouth of two of the streams the flow across the plain: the water course that runs from the foot of the Brown Hill and the Sturt River. With the line of the hills these two rivers form the edges of a large wedge shaped triangle across the Adelaide Plain.

"Would it not be of a goodness, Your Excellency, to gift this triangle in perpetuity to the Adelaide tribe and allow them to live there, undisturbed and in harmony with us?" said Mis Gandy.

Well yes, it probably would. And certainly my orders from England and the Letters Patent I carried with me from England would give support to such a notion.

But I suspect that all our upright pillars of British Society would see if they looked at such a plan would be a vast quantitiy of land that could be theirs if they don't go giving it away to a bunch of natives. When Miss Gandy says "it would be nothing but greed to take all the land for ouselves", she seems to be unaware that "nothing but greed" could be the motto on the family crest of many of our settlers.

But I have promised Miss Gandy that I will put forward her proposal and we will see what happens to it.  Nothing much, I suspect.

During the week Morphett came to see me and asked if I could direct Bromley "to instruct the natives and make them understand that the trees upon the Town Lands are private property and not to be cut down, or lopped, without the consent of the Proprietors." How Bromley is meant to perform this miracle upon people who seem to have little concept of "private property", ""town lands" or "consent of the propietors" is beyond my understanding. But if this is Morphett's attitude then I do not hold out much hope for Miss Gandy's proposal.

Mrs Hindmarsh invited Miss Gandy to stay to tea, which I thought remarkably civil of her, though perhaps hypocritical given the opinions Mrs Hindmarsh had given me the benefit of regarding Miss Gandy and her domestic arrangements with the Colonel.

Miss Gandy had the good sense to graciously decline her offer. Perhaps the qualities of the Vice Regal table are becoming known about town? Certainly when Mrs Hindmarsh rang for tea and Lucrezia appeared with what I took at first sight to be river pebbles, but which the mad poisoner assured me were scones, I understood Miss Gandy's reticence.

I was surprised to see that our scones were served with a dish of jam of some description. Since fruit of any sort is at a premium in the colony I expressed my interest in what was in the dish. Was it jam?

"Oh no bless you, ya rexellenncy," simpered the Widow. "There baint be no jam to be had here. But I find that if you mash up a bowl of sauerkraut with rather a lot of sugar it makes quite an acceptable substitute."

Is the world really so dark and terrible a place that there are people in the world so degraded in their moral sensibilities that sauerkraut and sugar could be considerd "acceptable". I weep for our future.

Sunday, 16th July, 1837

I predict entertaining times ahead in the management of the South Australia Company now that the new commercial manager has settled in and begun to hit his stride.

It was no secret, I think, that Sammy Stephens was not a satisfactory choice in filling the role of head of the company in the colony.

A taste for the imbibulous and a conviviality that has meant that many of his indentured workers seem to be employed only to provide him with drinking partners; an attitude towards account keeping and dispatch writing that could fairly be described as "whimsical"; an enthusiastic use of his idiosyncratic interpretation of the powers vested in him by the company as commercial manager that a Caligula or Heliogabalus might find erratic; a delight at being in the vanguard of every new project no matter its chance of success; a generosity completely at odds with sound business sense - rumour has it that the man has burned his way through fourteen or fifteen thousand pounds in the past twelvemonth; all these factors have meant that the company is in complete financial disarray and Kangaroo Island has gained the reputation of being a drunken orgy surrounded by water.

And into the middle of this farrago of incompetence is thrust David McLaren: as miserable a Scot as ever walked the streets of Glasgow.

I am told, by those who have spent time with him, that he was born into a family adherent to the Church of Scotland, but this not being of a serious enough tone for him he went over to the evangelical, Calvinist Scottish Congregationalists. Finding them of a rather too frivolous nature - they allowed smiling I believe and failed to hold that laughter was the path to damnation - he became a Scottish Baptist and hence reached the very terminus ad quem of Scottish dourness.

He wrote to me at one point before his departure from England and his letter was not filled with frippery and prinkum prankum. He was coming to South Australia, he said, not for a livelihood or to gain a sense of usefulness, nor even because he wanted to. But his sense of debt to Angas made him put aside personal pleasures and preferences and required that he act in a manner consistent with duty. A chuckle and a giggle in every line of it.

And now he has pitched up in Kingscote where he is required to work with that riot on two legs, Samuel Stephens. I say it will last three months. Less if Stephens tells McLaren the joke he told me about Adam and Eve and the cucumber.

Hutchinson is stomping about town complaining to any who will listen that his artistic sensibilities have been violated by me, by Stephenson and by Thomas when we rewrote his piece for the newspaper about the Ascent of Mount Lofty. It would appear that every word of the piece he wrote was carefully chosen for the exact effect it might produce in the mind of the reader and we hamfistedly ruined his piece. Buffoon!

My beer has not be entirely successful. It certainly brewed up well and has an excellent colour and a fine head of froth on it. However, on reflection it might have been improved if I had thought to wash out the sauerkraut barrel before letting the beer brew in it. The result is that the beer has a taste strangely reminiscent of pickles. It is not entirely unpleasant - or at least so I tell those who taste it - but it is not exactly the taste thought desirable in a beer. Fortunately I only made the one barrel of it, because no-one but me seems to want to drink it and I cannot afford to waste the materials by tipping this in the river. So I have rather a lot of pickled beer to drink over the next weeks.

It would appear that Fisher has been up to his usual tricks and all over a load of bullocks.

Throughout the colony there has been great want of means to transport goods and materials from place to place. The Commisioners, recognising this, have sent out a cargo of draught bullocks from the Cape of Good Hope for sale to the general public.

Along with the shipment of bullocks came a shipment of cows, once again, to be sold to the general public, for whom the possession of a cow - particularly to those with young children - would be of the highest value.

Now the rumour about town is that when the bullocks arrived Fisher offered his two sons the first pick of ten of the finest specimens, which, since they have established a carrying business between the Port and Adelaide must have been of benefit to them. He then offered the next eight to Gilles, his friend White and Stevenson. Only after these men had had their choice did the scraps get offered for sale - at high prices - to the public.

The cows seem all to have ended up on the farmlands of Mr Hack, who now seems to have a complete monopoly on milk in the colony.

As if this wasn't enough there is also talk that a shipment of salt pork belonging to the Commissioners was sold at a cheap rate to the South Australian Company. As a side light, what business the Commissioners of the South Australian Company had selling goods at cut rates to themselves in the guise of the South Australian Company is anyone's guess.

Be that as it may, that same pork is now being sold for the extraordinary sum of ten guineas a barrel to the general public by none other than Mr Fisher's two sons.

Mr Fisher, I fear, will shortly be asked some questions that he will need to answer very carefully.

The Ascent of Mount Lofty

[Editor's Note Contained on two loose sheets of paper within Hindmarsh's diary, Hutchinson's original account of the first ascent of Mount Lofty has never before been published. The Governor felt that the tone of the original needed "softening" and gave Robert Thomas the task of rewriting.]

The Dangerous and Heretofore Unattempted

Ascent of that Glowering Presence Above Us

Known to All as

Mount Lofty.

A thrilling adventure

told in vivid style

by

The Adventurer and Leader of the Expedition

Young Bingham Hutchinson

Published for the delight and entertainment of all colonists.
Suitable for families

Our expedition consisted of: myself; James Fisher Junior (son of the Resident Commissioner); Charles Fisher ( younger brother to Jas); and George Gandy, (friend to the Surveyor General) Only each man knew what thoughts went through his own head as he prepared to meet the challenge  - and perhaps his doom - on the treacherous slopes of Mount Lofty - that undiscovered country from which whom of these travellers would return?

Our journey into the dark unknown began by the bank of a brook that flows from a ravine at the base of the mighty mountain that we were about to attempt to climb. We were foolish to attempt it? Some might say so. And as we looked up skywards towards the lowering peak high above us we knew as a certainty that this undertaking would require all our strength and perseverance. We knew that the mountain felt no pity and would claim us for its own if we showed it scant respect.

Almost as soon as we attempted to enter the gully formed by the babbling brook we were met by the slavering jaws of four wild dogs that came galloping out from the bushes, their eyes red with blood lust and fixed upon our throats!

There was the crack! of four baker rifles and the musket balls did their work. The murderous dogs lay dead upon the ground, a fatal wound in the skull of each of them; a testament to the efficacy of British craftsmanship in the hands of an Englishman.

But each member of our party was thinking the same thought. Was not the gateway to Hell in the old myths guarded by a many headed dog? Was this dog attack a sign that we too were about to enter the Hell of the Adelaide Hills? Which, if any of us, would, Orpheus like, return to sing his story?

As we struggled up the natural path by the side of the brook towards our goal our progress was slow, impeded by thick bushes nearly as tall as our heads, and the undergrowth of creeping plants. The bushes scratched and dragged at us, like the fingers of the Harpys long ago and the undergrowth clutched at our feet and legs as if to drag us back, as if it said "Save yourselves! Go no further!"

And then, at the very point we thought the limit of our exertions had been reached,we turned a corner and were remarkably surprised by seeing a wall of sheerest rock towering about fifty or sixty foot above us, which stretched across the ravine, and from the top of it leapt the brook which had so long been our companion.

We each looked at each other and our thoughts were clear enough. Did we dare ascend the cascade and proceed deeper into the unknown, all hope of easy escape from danger cut off by the precipitous drop that would then blocked our way?

Without a word we all four answered the call, leaping to the jagged rocks and beginning the hazardous ascent. Hand over hand we struggled up the vertical wall of rock, finding a hand hold here, a toe hold there, struggling and sweating to make what progress we could.

And then, disaster!

The youngest of our party, Charles Fisher, scarce more than a boy, missed a toe hold and slipped, gashing his leg against a rocky outcrop and near falling to his certain doom! Only the quick thinking and strong hands of George Gandy saved him, snatching him from danger and setting him back on the rock face.

But if we reckoned young Fisher at scarce more than a boy then we had not bargained that he was an boy with the heart of a British Lion.

"Let me go!" he said. "Go on without me! I'll only hold you up with my leg like this. Let me climb down and you go on."

"Don't be a fool, Charles,"said his brother. "You wouldn't last five minutes out there!"

"But we've already seen wild dogs! If there are more around then they'll get the scent of the blood from my leg and come after us! Leave me and go on! I'll be nothing but a burden."

I fixed him with a steely glare and spoke through gritted teeth.

"No man gets left behind," I said. "Not on my watch!"

Without another word we continued the ascent, reaching the top and throwing ourselves down on the level ground  by the brook to catch our breath. Then, revived with water from the fast flowing stream, we continued pushing on through the mysterious vegetation.

These grass trees gave off a sweet aroma - "Too sweet," said one of our party. "The smell of death!"

When we cautiously investigated we found a hard resin at the base of these grass trees the which we risked breaking some lumps of off with a heavy stick. I believe it is this resin which is used by the natives to fasten sharp stones (and since our arrival, broken glass) to the heads of their spears. Perhaps my discovery will be of benefit to the people of the colony. If the natives are able to use this resin to create death dealing spears, what uses might industrious Britons, led by the light of the Christian faith, find for it?

We pushed on up the stream, struggling and sweating despite the drenching rain that now poured down upon us as we traced the stream against obstacles as great as those which we had hitherto met.

After a time we came to a spot where the course suddenly turned to the left, and became so steep, narrow, and obstructed, that the older Fisher gave opinion that "if there are natives about, this would be the place for an ambush!"

"Have any here seen any natives?" I asked.

"Not seen," said Gandy. "Not seen as such. But for the last hour I have had the feeling of being watched!"

The two Fishers nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"Like eyes drilling into back of your neck," said one.

"But not actually seen any natives?" I asked again.

"But you can feel them Hutchinson," said the other Fisher. "You don't have to see them to know that they are there!"

And so, rather than risk certain death by ambush we were obliged to abandon the stream, and ascend a hill on the right. Soon we observed from this position a fearfully deep and steep, dark ravine, which lay between us and the object of our ambition. Who knows what secrets and mysterious dangers lay in the eerie and ghostly chasm that lay before us?. Perhaps some giant creature from long ago made it home. Had strange rites and sacrifices had been carried out in that fetid place since time immemorial?

But a check of our watches showed that it was time to return, so we commenced a retreat, though not by the course of the stream—we had no desire to try that again.

Eventually we managed to return to the place where we had narrowly avoided a surprise attack from the spears of the natives and began our second attempt on the mountain peak.

We began by ascending the hill on the right hand side of the stream; this took us for some time a great way to the right of the direct course, but still our progress was quicker than if we had held a straight course, and descend the gloomy, mysterious vallies. After some time, the ridge turned to the left, towards Mount Lofty, and we began to flatter ourselves we should arrive there without having to cross any valley. Yet as we walked on in the teeming rain the Mount appeared as far off as ever and vallies seemed to grow and open up where before there had been none, almost as if the ancient spirits of the mountain were barring our way, lest we should conquer them.

But conquer we did and after ascending a very steep and stony hill, covered with gum trees, very close, and shooting up into tall, straight, slender stems, we found ourselves at last on the highest part of the range, after five hours of incessant exertion.  We attempted to light a fire, in order to notify the success of our exertions to our friends in the capital but every thing was so wet, that we were obliged to submit to the frustration of being unable to do so.

Young Fisher's leg was still very red and sore and he appeared unsettled and agitated, perhaps worrying about holding us back on the descent.

Suddenly he struggled to his feet. "I'm going out now," he said. "I may be gone for some time." And with that he turned and walked silently into the thick, screening scrub.

James, his brother called after him, but I silenced him with a look. "Let him go," he said. "He knows what he has to do."

He  was indeed gone for some time; possibly the result of the three bully beef sandwiches he had eaten, be when he returned he seemed much jauntier. "That's much better," he said, with a grin.

With that we stood and began our descent of the mountain.

On our way back down, we thought we observed a ridge on the other side of the ravine through which the stream runs, which led at once from Mount Lofty down to the plain without a single valley to cross, and we thought it worth another day's work to ascertain if such were the case.This day we were absent for nine hours, without having sat down during the time.

After the exertions of the previous day our third and successful attempt, which took us to the summit in three hours, without having to cross a single valley, proved a pleasant day's excursion, instead of one of great labour. By following the course of the stream for a short time until it divided into two branches then by crossing it, and ascending a steep hill, we found a ridge which ran nearly in a straight line to the top of the range. We discovered a great many new and beautiful plants; grass trees abounded, but from the ground having been recently burnt, we observed very few whose stalks were above ground. We discovered several mushrooms, two of which I ate, to satisfy myself of their wholesomeness, and we also saw today the first snail.

Our view was much interrupted by the trees, but between them, we could observe to the eastward and northward, ranges of hills gradually becoming fewer, and covered with wood. To the westward we saw two ranges of high hills across Gulph St. Vincent, and we had a perfect view of all the branches and winding of the harbour. The trees prevented our seeing anything to the southward. We descended by the same track by which we had ascended, satisfied that no easier route can be discovered.

Despite the dangers we faced, despite the risks to life and limb, we four all returned to the capital secure in the knowledge that we had done all that we could to extend the reach of our young settlement and proud of our achievement in planting the claim of the British Crown on the mighty peak of Mount Lofty!

A note, scribbled in Hindmarsh's handwriting, is on the back of the second sheet.

So these young monkeys piss farted about the Hills getting lost in the rain for days, ate a couple of mushrooms (and which they were lucky didn't poison them) and killed some poor native's pet dogs. Then they dress the tale up like a painted whore in the hope that everyone will say what brave lads they are - Charles Sturt, James Cook and Francis Drake all  rolled into one! In point of fact they are ninnies who couldn't even light a fire and, it seems, do not have enough good sense to stay out of the rain. Explorers, my Aunt Fanny's eye! Rewrite it Thomas and perhaps next time they won't be so damned silly.

From The South Australian Gazette and Colonial Register, Saturday, 8th July 1837

[EDITOR'S NOTE: The following newspaper cutting was found in Governor Hindmarsh's diary and is the account of The Ascent of Mount Lofty as it finally appeared after its tone was "softened" by Robert Thomas. Hindmarsh has made a handwritten note in the margin; "Much better. Far less silly."]



ASCENT OF MOUNT LOFTY.

BINGHAM HUTCHINSON.

We have been favoured by Mr. B. Hutchinson with the following account of his ascent to Mount Lofty, which we publish with great pleasure, and in his own words. Mr. Hutchinson's track has since been followed by various individuals, and we are informed that from the summit of the range immediately eastward of Mount Lofty Lake Alexandrina is distinctly visible. Its shores, we regret to say, have not yet been visited or seen by the Surveyors, or by any of the more enterprising colonists, although it cannot be more than forty miles distant. The attempt at present, in the depth of winter is not to be expected but in the course of the coming spring, it is to be hoped we shall know something, of the boundaries of this Lake beyond which Captain STURT disclosed several years ago.

"Our first attempt to gain the summit of Mount Lofty, which was represented to me as an undertaking requiring considerable exercise and perseverance, as well as a sound knowledge of the hills, was begun on the bank of the brook, which flows from a source in the right hand side of the Mount, as seen from Adelaide, Our initial progress was slow, and impeded by the trees and bushes by the side of the brook, being in height nearly as tall as our heads, and by the undergrowth of creeping plants.

So great were the exertions required that we welcome the prospect of rest when we resolved to proceed no further than what was beyond a point which impeded our view. We were remarkably surprised by seeing a wall of rock about fifty or sixty foot high, which stretched across the ravine, and from the top of it leapt the brook which has so long been our companion.

We determined at once to proceed and ascend the cascade; here our attention was first called to the vicinity of the grass tree, our nostrils being invaded by a strong honey-like smell, which proceeded from the resin which exudes from the stalk, accumulating in very hard lumps, at the base. We were not long in discovering the cause of the agreeable odour, and procured some lumps of the resin, which, however, required repeated blows of a heavy stick to remove it from its situation.

Continuing to trace the stream against obstacles as great as those which we had hitherto met, we at last came to a spot where the course suddenly turned to the left, and became so steep, narrow, and obstructed, that we were obliged to abandon it, and ascend a hill on the right.

Observing from this position a fearfully deep and steep ravine, which lay between us and the object of our ambition, and being warned by our feeling as well as our watches that it was time to return, we commenced a retreat but not by the course of the stream—we had no desire to try that again.

Our next attempt was by ascending the hill on the right hand side of the stream; this took us for some time a great way to the right of the direct course, but still our progress was quicker than if we had held a straight course, and descend the vallies. After some time, the ridge turned to the left, towards Mount Lofty, and we began to flatter ourselves we should arrive there without having to cross any valley, but as we proceeded, vallies seemed to grow, and the Mount to appear as far off as ever.

Notwithstanding this, however, after ascending a very steep and stony hill, covered with gum trees, very close, and shooting up into tall, straight, slender stems, we found ourselves at last on the highest part of the range, after five hours of incessant exertion. We attempted to light a fire, in order to notify the success of our exertions to our friends in the capital but every thing was so wet, that we were obliged to submit to the frustration of returning without being able to do so.

During our descent, we thought we observed a ridge on the other side of the ravine through which the stream runs, which led at once from Mount Lofty down to the plain without a single valley to cross, and we thought it worth another day's work to ascertain if such were the case. This day we were absent for nine hours, without having sat down during the time.

The third and successful attempt, which took us to the summit in three hours, without having to cross a single valley, and which proved a pleasant day's excursion, instead of one of great labour, was, by following the course of the stream for a short time until it divided into two branches then by crossing it, and ascending a steep hill, we found a ridge which ran nearly in a straight line to the top of the range. We discovered a great many new and beautiful plants; grass trees abounded, but from the ground having been recently burnt, we observed very few whose stalks were above ground. We discovered several mushrooms, two of which I ate, to satisfy myself of their wholesomeness, and we also saw today the first snail. Our view was much interrupted by the trees, but between them, we could observe to the eastward and northward, ranges of hills gradually becoming fewer, and covered with wood. To the westward we saw two ranges of high hills across Gulph St. Vincent, and we had a perfect view of all the branches and winding of the harbour. The trees prevented our seeing anything to the southward. We met no natives, and with the execution of four wild dogs, which we found at the base of the hills, before we commenced our ascent, saw no living creatures but a very few small birds. Being thirsty, I ate a portion of the base of the young flower stalk of three grass trees, and found it cool, juicy, and of an agreeable flavour. I believe it is the resin of this tree which is used by the natives to fasten sharp stones (and since our arrival, broken glass) to the heads of their spears. We descended by the same track by which we had ascended, satisfied that no easier way can be discovered.

BINGHAM HUTCHINSON