The shepherd went from home in the morning, attended by his dog, and armed with a gun, now unavailing for his defence: he never returned. Had he escaped to the bush? Such a step was improbable. His employers are soon informed that the blacks have been near; that the sheep have been wounded, or beaten to death. The search now becomes diligent: at length, the melancholy reality is clear; they find a mutilated form, which still preserves sufficient proof that the lost shepherd lies there. The sad catastrophe excites the compassion of the master; but it provokes the fellow servants to rage, and they devote themselves to the destruction of the murderous race.

The little child strays outside the cottage of her parent—fresh as the morning, and warmed with the hilarity of young life: a shriek is heard to succeed quickly the loud laugh of pleasure. The mother rushes forward; sees a black boy fleeing in the distance, and then beholds the victim of his malice: she draws forth the spear, and her child is dead.

The settler, now grown rich by his flocks and tillage, looks forward to the enjoyment of his opulence in domestic happiness. The companion of his early labors and privations forms the chief object in the picture; but while he was dreaming of future bliss, the envious eye of a savage, which had recognised in that prosperous homestead a station of his fathers, had glanced over and blighted all.

Those who were compelled to travel from home, left their families the prey to inexpressible anxiety. Every moment of delay awakened new forebodings. Often would the settler see his wife and children, on some prominent spot, the subjects of fears which required no interpreter, shading the eyes in the attitude of earnest attention; and when they caught the first glimpse of his approach, the rushing together, and marks of gratulation, indicated the gladness of watchers, whose painful task is done. To appear in safety, was a new though daily deliverance.

But if such were the fears at home, the traveller himself was not free from perturbation. He would neglect the common dangers of a rocky descent, and "sidling" way, to guard against perils far more dreaded: he would often pause, to listen; the moving of the leaf, would terrify him. He would hear a rush—it was but the cattle: he would gaze steadfastly at some black substance far off, until convinced that it was the stock of a tree; then reproaching his fears, he would gallop on rapidly—then moving round some overhanging rock, he would see savage faces and poised spears! Retreat is now impossible: he spurs his horse, which seems almost to be conscious of danger, and perhaps reaches his home exhausted with fatigue and dread; happy, however, to have been once more preserved.

Nor is it possible to describe the emotions which were wrought up, by the consciousness that a feeble woman and helpless children were exposed to the clubs and spears of the savage. Men know, when they pass their threshold, that the ties of life are uncertain, and that desolation may blast whatever they leave tranquil and beloved; but there was an intense realisation of this hazard, in those parts of the colony where protection was least accessible.

Death, by the hands of a savage, is indeed invested with the darkest terrors: it was rarely instantaneous—it was often the effect of protracted torment, and of repeated blows: often, after a long pursuit, in which hope might occasionally gleam for a moment, to render death to the exhausted fugitive more distinct and terrible; or, perhaps, at once wounded mortally and prostrate, when the rush of early affections and long forgotten truth and brief supplication would come with that swoon, by which nature sometimes ushers in the fatal moment; the dying man would be roused by infernal shouts, and there would swim before him brandished clubs, and horrid visages distorted with demoniac rage. Such were the recollections of some who recovered; and such, we may be assured, were the emotions of many that died.

Comparatively, the natives did not frequently injure women and children; partly, perhaps, that they were less exposed, and partly from natural compassion. Thus, when the house of Clarke was destroyed by the Big River tribe, and its owner perished in the flames, the woman with him escaped with her clothes ignited—ran to the savages, and fell down upon her knees, imploring their pity. One of their number extinguished the flames, and bade her be gone. It may be doubted, if this instance of compassion always found a parallel in the conduct of the white. About the same time, a wretch boasted to Mr. O'Connor, that he had thrown a native woman on the fire, and burnt her to death. The equity of Providence seems vindicated by the fact, that he perished by the spears of the race, who watched him continually, until he fell into their power.

Long after the pacific mission of Robinson, it was found necessary to restrain the wanderings of the women, to prevent their sacrifice to white vengeance. But, on the part of the natives, there were not wanting fearful examples of implacable and treacherous violence. Such was the murder of Mrs. Gough and her children. In 1828, about twenty men, unattended by their families, had re-appeared in the centre of the island, and approached the neighbourhood of Oatlands: they attacked the cottage of one Moor, as a feint, and thus drew off the husband of the unfortunate woman, to the assistance of his neighbour. On returning, he met his daughter, with the sad intelligence, that children and wife were murdered, and that she only had escaped. He found the mother leaning against a fence, covered with blood: "Dear Gough," she said, "it is all over with me; the blacks have killed me!" He endeavoured to staunch her wounds; then hastened to his children, and found them, not dead, but dying. The blacks had inflicted reiterated blows, and answered entreaties with threats of murder. Mrs. Gough was shortly afterwards laid beside her children. The attack was more fierce, and yet deliberate, than common: but not long before, some stockmen at the Lakes requested two women to ascend the trees: while there, they shot them. It is necessary to add, that the women sometimes approached the huts, as spies, or such actions would be incredible.

The government and the press complained repeatedly, that no regular resistance was offered to the depredators; that the settlers did not instantly pursue, and, by combined efforts, intimidate or destroy them. It was said, that they easily forgot the danger, so soon as the blacks had withdrawn, and abated even the ordinary vigilance, which such formidable enemies might inspire. Thus, the slaughter of a shepherd had become too frequent to produce much sensation, and was set down as a common risk of colonial life. When they heard that a servant was speared, they would exclaim, "Ah! is he killed? poor fellow!"—and having brought in a verdict of wilful murder, they left him to the forgetfulness of the grave.

It was said, that as the passenger approached the towns, he found the anxiety of the people diminished, and their feeling revolutionised. In the interior, the blacks were spoken of with intense fear, and detestation: in the capital, even their depredations were questioned, and the subjects of conversation, were rather their sufferings than their crimes.

Governor Arthur strongly censured the negligence of farmers; but this was rather to arouse them, than to decide finally the fact, or culpability of their inaction. In truth, the pursuit of a party of aborigines, was a very hopeless affair: it required a minute preparation; and to a well fleshed, and not perhaps youthful yeoman, was attended with vast fatigue, and almost certain failure. An organised enemy may be found: not so, naked and scattered blacks, undistinguishable from the trees of the wood; who could crouch in a gulley—creep almost as rapidly as a dog. The appearance of apathy, in reality resulted from the uselessness or danger of action; nor can it be a matter of surprise, that men expelled from their minds an evil merely possible, which they hoped to escape, and which no forethought would avoid. Whether these imputations were just, or not, they were revived in various forms, by the Governor's private and public addresses. They constitute a large portion of his correspondence with the Home Government; but they drew forth from the Secretary of State what, perhaps, was chiefly desired—an approbation of his measures of protection; for, however apathetic individuals, it was admitted, that the repression of outrage, from whatever cause, and at whatever cost, was an obligation on government. There were, nevertheless, several instances of courageous defence: large numbers were successfully resisted by a single musket; and it was stated by Governor Arthur, that two armed men would strike a whole mob with panic—a contempt of their valour, which was often provoked by the subtlety of their escape. Such is commonly the case: savages, even when courageous, are unwilling to face the deadly weapon of the white man. They, however, lost much of their alarm; and, at length, would pause for the report, and rush on with shouts of defiance, when the English had discharged their guns.

The most courageous instances of defence, were furnished by females: they were sometimes surprised by a visit, when escape was hopeless, and relief unattainable. Mrs. Maclanachan maintained a post, purely by her resolution. Mrs. Dalrymple Brigge, a half-caste woman, was rewarded with twenty acres of land, for her heroism. She drew inside her house her wounded child, barricaded her door, and fired through a crevice. The blacks attempted, first to pull down her cottage, and then to destroy it by fire. The conflict lasted more than an hour, when relief came. Another: Mrs. Connel defended her house with the musket; a little child, of four years, bringing one to her as she fired off another: she was within a few days of her confinement. The fortitude displayed, on these occasions, was very justly admired: we cannot, however, but be sensible, that few possessed either the physical strength, or the knowledge of arms, equal to a task so hard.

In this colony, 1830 will be ever memorable, as the year of the Black War—that campaign, which formed the first military lesson given to the colonists. In the ferment of the public mind, innumerable plans were propounded for their capture: some merit remembrance from their oddity, and some for their kindness. It was suggested, that those natives in custody should be driven forward, secured by a tether, and thus compelled to guide the pursuit. It was also proposed, that depots of flour, sugar, and other tempting articles of food should be placed in the tracks, and when natives were engaged in seizing the prize, the Philistines would be upon them. A third plan recommended, that four or five persons should be placed in the vicinity of huts, to be erected for the purpose: they were to stand outside, and allure the natives; and when seen by them, to feign alarm, and run. The natives, it was expected, would make for the seemingly abandoned dwellings, to be surprised by the English, lying in ambush. Their dogs often gave them notice of approach: a scheme was propounded, to turn this advantage against them. The English were to be furnished with two sets of dogs: one leash, swift and fierce, to pursue the dogs of the natives; but as both would soon vanish from the sight of the pursuers, the second species were to be retained, to scent their course. Thus, the native would run first,—his dogs after him; then would come the large dogs of the English—then their little dogs; and, finally, the captors! An old mariner, who had witnessed the effect of music in taming savage tribes, proposed to try the persuasion of sweet sounds. He was not aware, that the expedient had been in vain tested under happier auspices; even had it been possible for a military band to career along with the requisite speed. The musician of the Recherche carried his instrument on shore, and played his sweetest melodies: the natives took no notice. Unwilling to doubt the efficacy of his art, on his next visit he used sharper tones and quicker measures: the aborigines put their fingers to their ears, and the Frenchman dropped his fiddle in despair.

It will be proper briefly to notice the state of the public mind at the moment. The natives were now a mere handful: an irregular contest of several years duration, now and then slackened, was ever adding some new victim to the slain. The constables occasionally fell in with the temporary huts, which told the mournful tale of rapid depopulation. In tracks, where thirty or forty huts had, in former years, indicated a considerable clan, four or five only were reared; but while the natives diminished, they seemed to increase their activity, moving to various places with almost incredible swiftness. It is said, that they would travel fifty miles in a day. Their superior knowledge of the country enabled them to reach stations more remote in appearance than reality. A colonist, of the present time, by better acquaintance with the road, can pass in a few hours to places, once several days journey distant. Such rapid progress may perhaps be doubted, but it was sufficient to give them the appearance of ubiquity; and since they now were no longer casual but habitual robbers, the havoc and alarm they created had rather augmented, as their numbers declined. The colony, then prosperous in its general affairs, was deeply depressed by their continued outrages: shepherds would no longer tend their flocks, unless accompanied by armed companions. On the slightest signal of the approaching foe, they would flee with precipitation: ten times a day the quiet of domestic life would be broken by the fears, feigned or real, of the workmen. If they idled on the road, it was the blacks that retarded them: if they lost provisions, the hut had been robbed by the blacks. Often, too, these vexations were tinged with the ludicrous: the rumour would reach the township that an unfortunate had been speared, who, when more closely examined, was found dead drunk. Some imaginative settler would return, with the sure information that the blacks were lurking in the woods: the cautious whites, well armed and skilfully disposed, would march round the hiding place, and stealthily approach a stump of more than usual likeness to animated nature.

An officer, newly arrived, when the depredations were most alarming and frequent, looked from the window of his cottage, in the twilight, and discerned many blacks crouching among the stubble of a corn field lately reaped. He hastened and ordered out his men: they cautiously crept round the inclosure, and were gratified as they drew nigh to discover that the enemy had not moved. Another small party of soldiers observed a body of fifty or sixty, on the borders of a creek, flowing into Oyster Bay: as they were approached by the British, they made for a point of land. It was, apparently, a certain capture: the soldiers and constables rushed on, when the foe took the water. In these adversaries the colonist will recognise the black stumps, left by imperfect farming, and the black swans which adorn our waters. Notice was brought, that some one in the far interior was killed: the coroner's jury was summoned; the verdict was, of necessity, "not yet dead."[16]

The disquietude occasioned by an enemy, so insignificant; the constant vigilance imposed, and the not infrequent heavy calamities inflicted, are events justly exhibited by the Aborigines' Committee, as a lesson to mankind. The long oppression of a race, not prone to violence, was now productive of its fruit, and exacted from the colonists a fearful retribution.

The most alarming movement of the natives was, the systematic destruction of premises by fire. This was revenge within their reach, at any hour; and its previous infrequency is a matter of astonishment. In three months, the huts of Messrs. Howel, Sherwin, and Clarke, had been destroyed. The property of Mr. Sherwin, lying between hills, was easily watched, and spies were posted on the heights. The mode of firing the premises was deliberate: they kindled the flames at twenty yards apart, so that the whole was simultaneously burned; this done, they went off, shouting and crying out to the English to go away. The extent of the mischief was not so alarming as its forebodings. That element, which nature has placed at man's disposal, and can be turned, by a moment's effort to the destruction of a fortune, might long have proved an effectual scourge, and made colonisation hopeless. The retention of properties, as well as the security of dependents, required decided and unanimous measures.

No part of Governor Arthur's character conciliates greater esteem, than his promptitude to encourage humanity in the whites, and to win the confidence of the natives. At the commencement of this year, he offered a liberal reward to any one who should open a pacific communication, or if a convict free pardon. He promised five pounds for every adult, and two pounds for every child, taken alive. He entreated the colonists to enjoin the utmost tenderness on their servants, and invariably to spare the women and children. These merciful intentions were but little successful: the rewards were rarely claimed. But no effort, in a right direction, is ever lost: the conduct of John Benfield, a convict, was distinguished for intrepidity and coolness in a capture, and Colonel Arthur bestowed warm praise. Observing a fire, at a short distance, he approached three aborigines, to whom he offered bread: one of them promised to accompany him, if he would put aside his gun; this risk he incurred. He led the black to his hut, and gave him food and blankets for his companions; and soon succeeded in completely conciliating them all. They joined him in hunting the opossum: thus he drew them on to the military party stationed at Captain Moriarty's. This man certainly deserved the reward he obtained, and the government notice of an action so courageous and humane, must have mitigated the fierce spirit of his class.

The orders and notices issued by the Governor during this year, represent the powerful agitation of the public mind, and from which he himself was by no means free. Sometimes, the hope of reconciliation seemed strong; thus, August 19th, he states that Captain Welch and Mr. G. A. Robinson had obtained a friendly parley with a hostile tribe. It was ordered, that no attempt should be made to capture or restrain such aborigines as might approach the settlement; but that, after supplying them with food, they should be suffered to depart.

He found it necessary to explain the conditions on which rewards were offered for capture, which had been abused, by the violent detention of inoffensive natives: those who, in attempting to arrest them, were guilty of wanton mischief, were threatened with the penalties of the law. These orders were followed by outrages, which threw doubt on the propriety of distinctions: the ally of to-day, was the robber of yesterday, and the assassin of the morrow. The natives of the south-west districts of the colony, and of the islands, were still exempted from proscription; but an explanatory notice, authorised the settlers, by whatever necessary means, to anticipate, or repel, the barbarous attacks, now renewed with terrible frequency and atrocity.

These public instructions indicate the alternate feelings which prevailed: they were natural to men who, reflecting on the origin of the warfare, felt that measures, now indispensable, were not wholly guiltless.

* * * * *

OFFICIAL LIST OF ATROCITIES COMMITTED BY THE NATIVES.

1830.—January 1. William Smith, in the employ of —— Triffet, jun., killed near the river Ouse. Piper's hut, at Bark Hut Plains, broken open and plundered of a musket, blankets, sugar, &c. Captain Clark's hut, at Bark Hut Plains, robbed, and his house entered by the natives.

February 1st. Mr. Brodie's hut, near the Clyde, was attacked while he was in it; he was speared in several parts of his body, but not mortally; they stole blankets, tea, sugar, &c. 9th. Mr. Mazetti's hut robbed; Lawrence Dering, servant to Mr. Bell, killed. 11th. Mr. Bell's house and servants attacked on Great Jordan Lagoon; the natives kept at bay from the house, but one man received a spear through the thigh. Mr. Hopley murdered about a mile from Mr. Betts'; James M'Carthy desperately wounded. 12th. Mr. Howell's dwelling hut burned. Mrs. Howell and her children narrowly escaping the flames. Twenty of Mr. Espie's sheep killed and maimed. Mr. Thomson's hut attacked by forty or fifty. Mr. Paterson's shepherd pursued by the natives. 17th. John Bluchaby and Philip Norboy killed at Dysart parish, Oatlands, at noon day. Lawrence Murray, servant to Mr. Bell, killed. A child killed at Bagdad, near the road side. 20th. Mr. M'Rae's house, near Bothwell, plundered of flour, and within a mile of the military station, at Bothwell. Mr. Sherwin's house burned to the ground, with the greater part of his property; his servants' hut and fences also consumed. The Weazle Plains Hut burned down; a black man wounded, in the act of setting fire to it. 22nd. Captain Clark's barn and corn stacks consumed, containing 1,200 bushels of grain.

March 2nd. A hut, near Captain Clark's, fired. A hut, at Davis' Marsh, plundered. 9th. A mob of natives appeared at Captain Smith's hut, at his run; a part of them killed 100 of his sheep. 10th. Piper's hut fired, and partly destroyed, 11th. Captain Wood's hut, at Poole's Marsh, robbed. Mr. Jones' hut, Side Line Marsh, threatened. Mr. Bisdee's hut attacked; also Mr. Thomson's stock hut, and Mr. Brodribb's, at the Black Marsh. Mr. Denholme's hut, at the same place, attacked, and his servant speared. 13th. M'Gennis' hut, Richmond district, plundered of muskets, powder, and ball, and every thing of value in the house. 15th. A hut, near the mouth of the Carlton River, attacked, a man and woman dangerously wounded; four spear wounds, and a cut on the head, supposed mortal. Another woman speared through the arm. 19th. About forty natives attacked the house of Mr. Brodribb, Black Marsh: they were divided into small parties, and made their attacks simultaneously: one man speared. On their being driven back, they proceeded to the hut of Mr. Thomson, which they robbed of every thing in it. On the same day, a man was speared in bed, at E. Danoven's, Black Marsh.

April 1st. John Rayner speared in several places, and dreadfully beaten by natives, at Spring Bay.

May 18th. Mr. Lord's hut, at Eastern Marshes, attacked; of two men in it, one was dangerously speared, and the other dreadfully beaten. The natives then plundered the hut, and retired.

June 1st. Mr. Sherwin's hut, Weazel Plains, plundered by the natives. 15th. The aborigines plundered the Den hut on the Lake River, of every thing in it, and murdered Mary Daniels, and her two infants, in cold blood.

August 7th. S. Stockman's hut, Green Pounds, plundered by natives. 9th. The death of Mr. Sharland (surveyor), and his men robbed of muskets, powder, and shot, by the natives; on the same day, government hut, between Bothwell and Blue-hill, robbed by natives, as well as the houses of Mr. Wood and Mr. Pitcairn. A man servant of Mr. Barrs, wounded. About forty natives met by Mr. Howell's party: a woman wounded. 23rd. The huts of J. Connell and Mr. Robertson attacked; the latter plundered. Mr. Sutherland's shepherds attacked, and their arms taken; one of them speared: arms taken from Mr. Taylor's hut. 24th. James Hooper killed, and his hut plundered of everything in it. The huts of Lieutenant Bell and Watts attacked by natives, who were repulsed from both.

September 8th. Captain Clark's shepherd attacked, but escaped. 13th. One man killed, and one man wounded, by the natives, on the banks of the Tamar. 14th. A man, employed by government at the lime kilns, near Bothwell, chased by natives, but escaped. 18th. A private, of the 63rd regiment, killed by natives: two sawyers speared, one of whom died of his wounds. 27th. Francis Broken speared and killed. 28th. Three men, at Major Grey's, wounded by natives, and one dangerously wounded with stones. 30th. Mr. G. Scott's house attacked by a mob of natives; they speared one man, and killed another—the body of whom they threw into the river. They ransacked the house of every thing they could find, and even went up stairs, and broke the doors open—a proceeding to which they had never before resorted. They took away blankets, shirts, sheets, knives, 600 or 700 lbs. of flour (which they tied up), half a basket of tobacco, 100 lbs. of sugar, a bag of tea, and a considerable quantity of slop clothing: so great ingenuity was displayed in the attack, that for some time it was supposed that Europeans had conducted it. On the same day, the natives plundered a hut, opposite to Mr. Scott's, of all the tea, sugar, flour, and bedding, that were in it.

October 16th. The settlement at Sorell attacked by natives: one severely wounded; four houses plundered of blankets, flour, tea and sugar, and clothes of every description. 18th. Captain Stewart's shepherd wounded by spears, and Mr. Guildas, a settler, killed by two spear wounds. 19th, Natives showed themselves on the farms of Messrs. Gatehouse and Gordon, and attacked the house of Mr. Gough, whom they wounded severely.

November 16th. Two huts robbed on the Ouse. 18th. Captain Wight's shepherd killed by natives; dreadfully mangled twenty-seven sheep. A hut on the South Esk attacked by natives: every thing portable sent off.

February 3rd, 1831. The natives attacked Mr. Bursby's house, on the Tamar; speared Mr. Wallace in several parts of the body, and inflicted several severe and dangerous wounds on his head: they likewise wounded a child. The hut of Allright attacked by them; plundered of every thing it had in it. The hut of Mr. Sutherland, Nork Esk, robbed: three horses speared, three others wounded. A woman, named M'Haskell, killed at Retreat, near Westbury: house robbed of 300 lbs. of flour, knives and forks, blankets, chest of tea, 100 lbs. of sugar, tobacco, two casks of butter, three muskets, and powder. 7th. Stewart's house attacked by natives, who were beaten off.

March 8th. Two sawyers attacked by natives; severely wounded. Two huts, near New Norfolk, plundered. 12th. Mrs. Cunningham's hut, at East Arm, robbed by natives: she and the child wounded, very dangerously. 21st. Mr. Lawrence's servant murdered, and three men dangerously wounded by the natives, on Norfolk Plains.

April 5th. J. Ralton speared through the body, whilst at work splitting wood. 6th. N. Fitzgerald speared twice through the body, whilst sitting reading at the door of his cottage; the house plundered by the natives of guns, blankets, and other things. 7th. The same house again attacked.

May 10th. Hut on Patrick's Plains, containing government stores, burnt to the ground, by natives. Mr. Kemp's establishment, at Lake Sorell, attacked by a considerable mob of natives: the fire arms carried away, buildings totally consumed by fire; two men murdered, and one wounded.

June 6th. Several huts attacked, near Hunter's Hill; J. Triffits speared. Mr. Baretti's hut robbed, likewise Mrs. Bell's, of every thing in it, and the wife of N. Long murdered. Mr. Clark's hut plundered.

September 5th. Thomas Smith, hut-keeper, at Tapsly, murdered: hut plundered. John Hignston speared, and hut robbed; four sawyers' huts robbed. 7th. B. B. Thomas, Esq., and his overseer, Mr. Parker, murdered near Port Sorell, by a mob of natives, whilst, actuated by the most humane views, they were endeavouring to carry the conciliatory measures of government into effect. Mr. Thomas had received ten spear wounds, and Mr. Parker eleven. Stocker's hut desperately attacked; a child wounded; a man, named Cubit, speared. 22nd. Mr. Dawson's hut, on Brushy Plains, attacked, and his servant severely beaten with waddies. 23rd. Mr. Dawson's servant, Hughes, severely beaten by natives, nearly losing his life.

October 3rd. The natives, having possession of fire-arms, attacked and robbed the premises of constable Bird, and plundered the house of Mr. Amos, jun.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 14: In the western districts, the stockmen were usually mounted. When they saw the natives, these armed murderers galloped after them, and delivered their fire without danger to themselves.

An estate is called "Quambys:" the name is a cry of distress and entreaty, and signifies, spare me!. It was uttered by a black, who was found there, when imploring compassion; as the supplication is remembered, perhaps not then in vain: but mercy was rarely shown. A volunteer party discovered a tribe in a valley, surrounded by steep mountains; from the heights they poured down a volley of musketry, and then heaped the slain on the ashes of their fires. Another party overtook a tribe who had displayed a hostile spirit: they were on the banks of a lagoon, and all around were plains; escape was hopeless. They rushed into the water; as their heads rose above the surface, they were shot. These are specimens which rest on authority not to be disputed.

The slaughter of thirty aborigines, in 1838, at a remote station in New Holland, instanced the cool deliberation with which they were too often sacrificed. The deed was planned several days before, and the leisure of the sabbath was employed for its perpetration. The seven murderers had been all prisoners of the crown: a subscription was made for their defence; but in spite of strong sympathy in their behalf, they were sentenced to death, and ultimately executed. There had been no provocation: being on horseback, they surrounded the natives, who were reposing beside their evening fires. These ran to the hut of one of the assassins, with whom they had lived on terms of amity. There they were bound, and, amidst their groans, cries, and tears—men, and women with children at the breast—they were led off to a spot selected for the immolation. Great pains were taken to conceal the crime; but through a fall of rain the day preceding, their tracks were visible, and birds of prey attracted attention to the slaughter! The strongest suspicion existed, that the murderers were the miserable agents of persons still more guilty.]

[Footnote 15: The Aborigines' Committee observed, "that an opinion was gaining ground in the colony, that small parties should be formed by the settlers, for the extirpation of the blacks; an idea, which they contemplated with horror." It was more than an opinion—it was a terrible reality.]

[Footnote 16: Hobart Town Courier.]



SECTION VI.

Efforts of conciliation, were made through the medium of three women, captured by the police; and who, after being treated with kindness, were permitted to return to their tribe, and to invite their submission. One of these was seen in the journey, and slain, in error! After the absence of a few weeks, the survivors prevailed on the chief, and nine other men of the tribe, to accompany them to the residence of Mr. Batman: this gentleman, and his family, assiduously cultivated their good will, being one of the few who entertained a strong confidence in the power of kindness; notwithstanding, after remaining nine days, they eloped, it is said laden with plunder—displaying, in their progress, unmitigated hostility. Two natives, who delivered themselves up to a shepherd, and were lodged in the penitentiary at Launceston, after being supplied with abundance of food and clothing, within a month effected their escape, and were traced by their outrages. The celebrated chief, Eumarrah, captured by Robertson, after two years detention, when his artless manner and apparent reconciliation to his lot, threw his keepers off their guard, contrived to abscond. Justice is, however, due to the reputation of a savage. Eumarrah, afterwards complained, that when employed on the LINE, he was beaten by a constable: Jemmy, who escaped at the same time, had been chained to a bench all night, by a similar functionary. The newspapers of the day complain, that in gaol food sufficient for their appetites had not been always supplied them. The women were declining in health, when allowed their liberty. This last, was the great cause of their restlessness; they felt the oppression of civilisation; they were weary of clothing; the skin was irritated. The instinct which prompts a bird to seek some way of exit, also moves a savage: it was not so much indifference to kindness, as the passion for roaming—the habit of the race. Nor were they managed always with prudence: they were left to the mischievous influence of low white men, who delighted to terrify, even when they did not positively injure them. It was not until thirty had escaped, nearly equal to the whole number taken, that it was discovered, that to retain them, even their prejudices required tenderness, and that they were deeply sensible of contempt.

These retreats tended to extinguish the hopes cherished by the friends of the natives, and rooted the conviction more firmly in the colonial mind, that all efforts to tame them were unavailing. All the plans laid down for their expulsion, had been tried, and had proved to be impracticable. They still recurred to their usual haunts, and made up for their diminished numbers by their improved method, cunning, and audacity. Having committed depredations, they retired, with their plunder, to the districts reserved for their occupation, and whither it was unlawful to follow them, except for sworn offences. The Governor determined to try a movement, en masse, and by the united force of the entire population, to drive the Austral tribes within Tasman's Peninsula—a territory, joined to the main land by a neck, about one quarter of a mile in breadth. The success of this plan could never have been considered very promising. The Governor expressed his doubt respecting the result, while it was in progress; and there is no reason to question that, in putting it to the test, he was moved by the earnest entreaties of the colonists, and a conviction that nothing should be left untried, to preserve the people committed to his charge.

On the 7th September, 1830, the intention of the Governor was officially announced. Referring to the outrages of the natives, he asserted that their expulsion was impossible, but by a simultaneous effort. He called on every settler, whether residing in the town or country, to place himself under the direction of a magistrate, whoever he might prefer; that the whole military and police strength, combined with such assistance, might capture the hostile tribes, or permanently expel them. The solemnity of the engagement, no less than the preservation of the lives and property of the whole community, would require a serious and resolute co-operation. On former occasions, he observed such campaigns had been greatly perverted, and transformed into amusement and recreation. The Governor gave no promise of recompense, and insisted that the effort, however meritorious, was simply the duty of all; but with his accustomed tact, he chose this moment to reward, with large grants of land, those persons already distinguished for enterprise and success, and to distribute indulgences to prisoners who had been actively employed in the service. Mr. Batman, who had devoted twelve months to the pursuit of the blacks, obtained 2,000 acres of land. Mr. Howel, of the Clyde, whose losses had been great, but who was represented as displaying an untiring spirit of humanity, was consoled with 1,000 acres. The aboriginal Sydney guides, and Black Bill, a Tasmanian, received each 100 acres.

The volunteer parties from Hobart Town, were to join the force at New Norfolk, the Clyde, or Richmond: those from Launceston, were to patrol the westward and Norfolk Plains, the west bank of the Tamar, or the country extending from Ben Lomond to George Town. Enterprising young men, inured to the bush, were requested to attach themselves to the small military parties at the out stations, and, under military officers, to scour the northern country.

Men, holding tickets-of-leave, were required to enrol under the magistrate of their district, and settlers were enjoined to equip and detach whatever servants they could spare, reserving only sufficient strength for the protection of their families. The inhabitants of Hobart Town, in public meeting assembled, tendered their service to the government, for the furtherance of the object. The peace-loving Joseph Hone, Esq., was chairman of this warlike meeting: most of the leading speakers belonged to the profession of the gown. Mr. Kemp, one of the elder colonists, once an officer of the 102nd regiment, who had seen the process of extermination throughout, declared that the English were chiefly the agressors. Dr. Turnbull contrasted the effects of a vigorous resistance by government and the conflict of individuals: united effort might be followed by bloodshed, but would tend to repress the habits of violence, and, at least, save a remnant from destruction. A tribe, one hundred and sixty strong four years before, that frequented the Elizabeth River, was reduced to sixty by daily skirmishes with the stock-keepers. A question, however, arose, whether it were lawful to shoot aborigines refusing to surrender on challenge. Against this construction of law, Mr. Gellibrand earnestly protested; and maintained, in warm terms, their claims to sympathy and compassion—himself, alas! destined to die by the hands of the race. It seemed, however, generally understood, that capture should be attempted by the most merciful methods, but accomplished at all events. Colonisation by the French, was exhibited by Mr. Hackett, the distiller, in contrast with English; but Dr. Ross rose in reply, and stated that there was a rock which bore the name of The Leap, from which the last sixty natives of Grenada were precipitated. Mr. R. L. Murray treated the prevailing notion of danger with derision: three women, he said, would put a whole tribe to flight; but Mr. Home reminded the meeting, that the grass had not yet covered the graves of a mother and her children, recently slain. Thus, like the warriors of the heroic age, they debated before they armed; but it is difficult to reconcile the civic temper with military subordination: the committee nominated by the meeting to enrol the town guard, suggested that volunteers should be allowed to choose each their own company, as well as their own officers. One party of twenty-four, required the choice of their post, and the right to act as an independent division.

On the 22nd September, the plan of the campaign was minutely described in a government order, and operations were fixed for the 7th of October. Its main features may be briefly stated:—The Oyster Bay and Big River tribes, as the most sanguinary, were first marked out for pursuit. They were to be driven within the county of Buckingham; the utmost care being employed to prevent escape through the lines, while chasing them to Tasman's Peninsula.

A chain of posts was occupied, under Captain Welman, from St. Patrick's Head on the east coast; including the source of St. Paul's River, and stretching to Campbell Town. A second chain, under Major Douglas, extending from Campbell Town, passed south of the Macquarie, to its junction with the Lake River. Both divisions, marching in a southerly direction, formed a line from Oyster Bay tier to Lackey's Mills. During these manoeuvres, a party were sent to examine the tier, extending from Swan River to Spring Bay; carefully, however, concealing the movement from the natives, lest they should be deterred from passing the subjacent isthmus. Other parties were employed, under Captain Wentworth, to force the aborigines from the neighbourhood of the lakes in the west, towards the same centre, advancing due east to the Jordan. The lines being compressed and thickened, and joined by the settlers on their march, were then moved forward, followed by scouring parties, to guard against their escape, should the natives cross the line. Fires were kept burning to direct the troops, who were expected to march in unbroken order.

Captain Donaldson, who directed the operations in the north of the island, swept over the vast extent of country from Norfolk Plains to the Ouse—from Sorell Lake to Lake Echo. There he remained, closing the avenues of escape, while Douglass and Wentworth advanced to their last position: he then joined the main body. Twenty-two parties, under Major Douglas, and fifteen under Captain Wentworth, were then sent within the lines, to catch the natives, or drive them toward Tasman's Peninsula.

The distribution of provisions to this force, was entrusted to Messrs. Scott, Wedge, and Sharland, surveyors. The rations were delivered to the leader of each party weekly, and consisted of sugar, tea, flour, and meat, in considerable proportions. The principle depot was at Oatlands: where 1,000 muskets were provided, 30,000 rounds blank cartridges, 300 pairs of handcuffs, and whatever might contribute to the success of the assailants. Many thousands of rations were stored, and the settlers saw, with pleasure, their produce rise in the neighbourhood of this formidable band, to twice its recent value. L2,000 was paid to one merchant for the tobacco. The officers, to avoid its destruction, inevitable on so long a march, mostly threw off their military clothing, and assumed an uniform of Maria Island cloth, thus reserving their full dress to celebrate the coming triumph. The enthusiasm was universal: a blacksmith, at Sorell, unable to follow the army, offered to repair all the guns belonging to the volunteers of his district. His example was followed by another, who, having but one leg, contributed the same service to the common cause. Nor was supplication forgotten: a form of prayer was composed for those who used formulas, and extempore petitions were offered by other denominations. The colony, at large, cheerfully responded to the call of government: the military character of the plan excited the young, without much alarming the mature. The inhabitants of the towns readily enrolled, and the discussions every where exhibited a curious mixture of martial ardour and civil pertinacity.

There were many old soldiers in the colony, who were amused, without being repelled by this mimicry of war. More busy civilians, were anxious for the formality of incorporation, and the gradations of command. The townspeople were allowed their choice, between more active service and garrison duties. "Gentlemen," said an old soldier, "you may call yourselves marshals, generals, and colonels, but the duties assigned you are usually performed by a corporal's guard." It is gratifying to observe, that the last injunction of the Governor, and the last lesson of the press, suggested humanity. Under the excitement of losses and bereavement, the destruction of the natives had been invoked; but now, softened by the belief that the whites were about to complete a work which had been twenty-six years in progress, and to expatriate the race, with one voice all said, "spare them!"

The forces, including the military and constabulary, amounted to nearly five thousand; of these, 1,500 were contributed by Hobart Town, and 500 by Launceston. No army ever departed from their homes less agitated by the uncertainties of the future; and notwithstanding the dreary picture of the service, drawn by the colonel commanding, there was no danger that a bridge of Lodi, or a plain of Waterloo, would be found in the campaign. Some went out with the keenness of sportsmen who might at least catch a kangaroo: others were contented to live moderately well at government charge. The clerks, released from their offices, gladly embraced a holiday: the poor prisoner acted and felt as a free man, and rejoiced in the interval of his servitude; and keen and canny volunteers embraced the opportunity to range the unknown territory, for the discovery of some neglected spot, which might offer a future home.

On the 1st of October, the whole country was declared under martial law; excepting, however, from its operation, not only the British, but such of the aborigines as were pacific. This measure was of no great moment, except that it authorised the pursuit of all natives in every quarter.

The journals not favorable to the scheme, predicted its failure. There were vast probabilities against it: the nature of the force—the seat of war—the foe—the discipline—even the orders not to kill, were all peculiar and discouraging. Townsmen, little accustomed to fatigue, and sportsmen not disposed to be silent, were to move sometimes in a regular and quiet line. A shot carelessly fired, the momentary slumber of an undisciplined sentinel, or the lazy evasion of a scout, might disconcert the whole campaign. No Englishman could follow up the native: the array, the number and the glancing of muskets, gave warning from afar. An European, encumbered with his dress, could only move slowly, and when passing the bush must pause every moment, or be tortured at every step; but the native could swing from bough to bough, mount to the topmast branch like an opossum, move past the people seeking him diligently, or lie down until they were gone. To many of the colonists, the campaign was no child's play. The pursuit of solitary white or black rangers of the wood, was exhilarating to men of great animal courage, and who could enjoy long intervals of rest; but a regular march, through such a country, soon wore out the patience of many, and they were glad to resign the glorious undertaking to more ardent warriors.

As the campaign advanced, the weather was unpropitious: crossing the rivers became dangerous; trees had to be cut down to form temporary bridges. These obstacles cooled the spirit of volunteers, who passed rapidly from discontent to criticism, and from criticism to despair. "Many crawled home:" such was the indignant description of their retreat, given by their comrades; and whilst the drenched, but decreasing forces lay along the line, young men, it was said, crowded the streets of the capital, ignobly forgetful of the common cause.

Parties were divided into threes, each forming a night watch: fires were lighted for the night, and illumined the whole distance of thirty miles, from Prosser's River to Sorell; and sentinels paced within hail of each other. The police magistrates visited the several posts on horseback, and the Governor rode rapidly along the line, from the Clyde to Spring Bay. Dr. Ross recording his Excellency's exertions, states, that to allow them a full description, would leave no room for any other topic! His labours and perils were the theme of admiration and sympathy: it was reported, that he was lost three days in Paradise—a place renowned for its miserable vegetation, and the dreariness of its scenery. The warlike tone of the day may excite a smile, but the fatigue was indisputable; and although the slipperiness of the foe gave the air of mock heroism to the service, the watchers of the line were reminded, by frequent tidings from homeward, that their enemy was strong enough to deal death to the aged and the innocent. Four blacks, who crossed the line, and hung upon its rear, inflicted terrible vengeance. One attacked a settler, who returned a mortal wound with a pitchfork. The survivors hovered about the place to avenge his death: they at length found a victim in an amiable young lady, Miss Peters; who was speared in the breast. She felt, from the first, that the wound was mortal, and calmly resigned herself to her destiny. Others, left by their friends and dependants, were liable to the same perils: of this, Mr. Gildas, a settler on the Tamar, was a remarkable instance: he had sent his men to the line, and was thus alone. He left his house to seek for fire-wood, and was speared. The savages plundered his house, and defaced the pictures on the walls. A pilot, calling at his dwelling, found it pillaged and desolate. This man was at the battle of Trafalgar, and present when Nelson fell—himself reserved to perish in Tasmania, by savage hands.

The division under Captain Donaldson, which followed up the main body of the forces, arrived on the 31st of October. Colonel Arthur issued from the camp (Sorell Rivulet), a statement that the final decisive movement was at hand, and that those who had been exposed to great privations, would soon be released to their homes. Having been compelled to await reinforcements, the campaign had been unavoidably prolonged: to have moved without them, would have risked the success of the enterprise; the two dangerous tribes would attempt to escape, and the forces in charge were exhorted to redouble their vigilance, to prevent their breaking through the position.

These notices indicate a confidence of success, doomed to disappointment. To the precipitation of Mr. Walpole's party, Colonel Arthur attributed the failure of the expedition. They were instructed not to attempt a capture, unless a considerable number could be taken; but the sight of the slumbering enemy probably suspended the recollection of this order, and was one of those casualties which could hardly be avoided, in such a wide distribution of command. It was on the 22nd of October this misfortune happened: the natives were discovered hunting, and were watched, until their evening fires were formed for the night. No noise being heard, Mr. Walpole supposed they had taken an alarm, and advanced at twilight towards the first hut, where he saw five blacks, with their dogs, fast asleep. He seized one man by the feet, and after a severe struggle detained him: a boy, ornamented with figures on his body, about fifteen years of age, shared the same lot; but two others were shot: the remainder fled. The quantity of spears and baskets left behind, proved that their flight was sudden, and their numbers considerable.

An attempt was made by the natives to cross the line on the 27th October. The sentry had set down his piece, and was putting some wood on the fire, when a spear was thrown at him: he threw the billet in his hand, and was reaching his musket when he received another spear; an alarm being given to an adjoining party, the blacks were driven back, of whom, however, six only were seen.

A circumstance occurred, which strongly confirmed the impression, that some treacherous whites had directed the natives. In pursuing them as far as the isthmus, they discovered in their tracks the impression of shoe-nails, and other evidence of the presence of white men. The reports were soon spread, that the Oyster Bay and Big River tribes were in the rear. The hopes of the colony rapidly gave way, and the Governor, writing to the Secretary of State, on the 21st of November, intimated his suspicion that the movement would be in vain.

These reports were, indeed, constantly circulated, and tended to damp the ardour and diminish the vigilance of the line. Some scouring parties from Norfolk Plains fell in with a tribe of forty, whom they pursued beyond the Shannon. They followed them for three days, but were compelled to return: the blacks, in their progress, had surprised a settler, and murdered him. The rumours of escape were aggravated by imagination: a party of the whites were seen by some sawyers, who ran away and reported them as natives; and it was several days before they could be persuaded of their error.

The settlers, worn out with fatigue and longing for their homes, were impatient to advance, and afforded ample opportunities for concealment and escape. Among the rest a place is noticed, which enabled the natives to defy intrusion or discovery, near the "Three Thumbs' Mountain,"—an almost impenetrable forest, of seven miles extent: the spreading branches obscure the sky, and lofty plants grow entwined, and conceal an object at the distance of a few feet. The attempt of the blacks to cross the line discovered their retreat. It was resolved to assemble forces sufficient to surround, break through, and storm this thicket: it was penetrated by about 300 men, who kept up a constant fire of musketry. A party, hearing the rustling of leaves like the noise of cattle, followed the sound: they came up to an encampment, where the fires were unextinguished, and where half-formed weapons indicated a hasty dispersion. Here they found the impression of nails, and what were deemed sure proofs of a superior directing intelligence. The presumption, that some convicts were incorporated with the blacks, was certainly strong, but it was probably but a temporary or casual intercourse, of not much utility to the natives. The Governor had, however, a full conviction that to this circumstance the failure might be partly ascribed. In the middle of the march, he ordered the publication of a report, which appeared decisive of the fact. Savage, a servant of Mr. Bisdee, was met half naked by the Governor, near Mills' Lagoon, to whom he stated he had been surrounded by a tribe, and rescued from violence by a man named Brown, who was with them. This person he had known in gaol. Savage advised Brown to bring in the natives, but he refused: he said that he had been frequently at Hobart Town, where he had bought clothes for the women: he had a double-barrelled gun, and seemed to have complete control over them. They carried Savage with them as far as Mills' Lagoon, when he was told he might go. The Governor and his party instantly set off in the pursuit, but they discovered no traces of the natives. The truth of this narrative has been questioned, yet from the number of points in which a correct memory, or extraordinary powers of invention would be requisite, the Governor might have easily detected imposition. The man stated that fright cured him of rheumatism; his rags were consistent with his story. It is, however, the only clear testimony to the presence of white men with the blacks at that period.

On the 26th of November, it was announced by the Governor, that the first series of operations was brought to a close; and except a few, requisite to protect the country, the colonists and their servants were released, and the town guards replaced.[17]

Those who had condemned the plan, now censured its precipitate abandonment: they said that hundreds of blacks were enclosed when the troops were withdrawn. It is not likely, however, that the Governor was deceived on this point. It is certain that many blacks were in the rear, and the dispersion of the force was equal to a confession, that the object was impracticable—that it had failed.

Thus closed the Black War. This campaign of a month, supplied many adventures, and many an amusing tale; and, notwithstanding the gravity of his Excellency, much fun and folly. The settler soldiers returned to their homes, their shoes worn out, their garments tattered, their hair long and shaggy, with beards unshaven, their arms tarnished; but neither blood-stained nor disgraced. They had seen much and dreaded more; but, in general, they met no other enemies than scrub and thorns, and they sat down on their own hearths, happy in having escaped the ramrods of their friends. The odd tactics, awkward movements—the skulking and the foraging, and all the various small accomplishments of a bivouac, were long topics of conversation and laughter. The accidents were few, though of these some were fatal: two aborigines only were captured, and one soldier was wounded. Yet though not very glorious, perhaps no evening in the year passes, but some settler's fireside is enlivened by a story of the fatigues and frolics of the Black War.

When the last movement was completing, the Science sailed for England with despatches from Colonel Arthur: they indicate his expectation of a failure, and scarcely conceal his mortification. Either the original impossibility of the plan, or the indolence or incaution of those who carried it out, had exposed the government to more than ridicule. Five thousand men had taken the field, beside the town guard. Nearly L30,000 had been expended, and probably not much less value in time and outlay by the settlers, and two persons only were captured! Those who prophecied the result, of course exulted in their sagacity: for the rest, they either praised the motive or the details. An impartial retrospect will not permit a commendation of the plan. The arrangements were ably made, and the parties, though they encountered difficulties unusual, reached the appointed places with considerable precision.

A public meeting was called to thank the Governor for his exertions in the field. This assembly was summoned, says the chronicler of the times, by the largest placard ever published in the colony! The resolutions and addresses were nearly unanimous; Mr. Gregson being almost singly opposed to this tribute of gratitude. It was objected by this gentleman, that while the activity of the Governor was not to be disputed, exertions wisely directed were alone worthy of praise; and he compared the project for netting the aborigines, with an attempt to harpoon a whale from the heights of Mount Wellington. The ardour of the people would not, however, admit a comparison which it required at that moment some political resentment to perceive. Nor is it precisely just to estimate the merits of a plan, by the success of its application. A colonist at a glance sees, in the names which were attached to the addresses, that the war was popular: all parties, of every shade, contributed something to that warmth of commendation, which had been hitherto paid by one alone. In every district of the colony, the applauses of Hobart Town were re-echoed, and the Governor's replies gave back an exchange of praise.

To suppose that Colonel Arthur expected military renown from such an enterprise, is certainly to under-estimate his ambition: to imagine that he valued a military spectacle, is not consistent with a mind much too practical for chivalry. His avowed and real object was to stop the murder of his countrymen, and to arrest the extinction of the natives; and it was not unworthy the public gratitude.[18] The Governor was delighted, however, by those proofs of the discipline of the prisoners, which were afforded through the campaign: many hundreds were in arms: they performed their duty with exemplary diligence and sobriety, and thus afforded the only spectacle which Colonel Arthur valued. It was certainly unprecedented. Slaves have been armed by their masters—their wives and children were hostages—but convicts, never. Robberies were less frequent than usual, and the journals singularly free from the details of crime. The animating influence of confidence reposed, elevates the least romantic natures: since they were trusted, they were faithful: all returned home to their servitude.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 17: The sheriff, Mr. Dudley Fereday, had before dismissed that portion which guarded the gaol: he affected to believe that the prisoners were not safe. There was small chance of escaping, so observed the newspapers, while the civilians were on guard—the prisoners themselves had given up all hope! But the sheriff thought otherwise, or more probably availed himself of his office, to cast into the dirt the honors of the civic guard; who had observed the forms of military discipline, and who merited a more distinguished termination to their service.]



SECTION VII.

While the hostile proceeding was in progress, the future preserver of the natives, Mr. Robinson, had already given his thoughts to their conciliation. In 1829, he was appointed to take charge of Brune Island, where twelve natives, captured, were located, and mixed with others who had attained a partial civilisation. Mr. Robinson attempted to acquire their language, and was soon able to understand them. The pecuniary advantages of his office were not very alluring: L50 a-year, and rations, were thought equal to obtain a person of good character to manage the infant establishment, and to effect the proposed intercourse with this unfortunate race. Mr. Robinson described his plan, as the employment of persuasion only, and requiring the withdrawment of intimidation. He first laboured to acquire the language—a task of some difficulty: the English were scarcely less ignorant on this subject, than when they first landed, and the dialects of the tribes differed considerably. The aborigines were supposed to understand the English tongue much more extensively; but the words with which they were most familiar, were the imprecations so often addressed to them—they were able to retort common terms of menace. Their intercourse with bushrangers and stock-keepers on remote stations, was the chief source of their knowledge. To learn the language as an instrument of civilisation, would be the first idea of a Christian missionary; but it was a conception, too lofty for the colonial mind. It was forgotten that by no other means can savages be softened, or permanently conciliated. The effect, when adopted, was electric: they learned to address Mr. Robinson as their marmanake, or father, and thus to distinguish him from other white men. The stupidity attributed to barbarians, and the vacant laughter, with which they receive the announcement of new ideas in a foreign tongue, would be ascribed, by experienced teachers, to the absurdity of such a medium of communication.[19]

The plan adopted by Mr. Robinson, was not only humane—it was reasonable. The natives were proud of freedom: their restraint was disguised, and by unvarying kindness he taught them to regard him as their friend; and thus they were prepared, not only to submit to his authority, but to rely upon his promises. White men had thought it a merit to deceive, and it required some skill to convince them. Having explained the proposals of the government, he took with him several of their number, and went on his errand of mercy. The aborigines were evidently prepared for his mission. Most of the tribes had occasionally direct intercourse with Europeans—true, the more frequent, the more hostile; but while they regarded the whites with hatred, this commerce enabled them to appreciate the presents provided to entice them, and facilitated friendly communication. All on the east side of the island were confederated; and when any were gained, they became agents in each other's pacification. The late pursuit, though it had not subdued their enmity, or even their courage, had convinced many that there was no security but by peace. Others, however, long resolved to confide in their own strength, and to take refuge in the fastnesses of the island. Such was the answer they gave to the messages of Robinson; but the late events had separated them from each other—it had scattered their tribes: members of the same family were part in captivity, and the knowledge of their condition moved the sympathies of relations still at large. Of this, an affecting instance transpired in 1831. Some, who gave themselves up, stated that they had been very unhappy: they had gone over the country, searching for their lost friends, of whom they could gain no tidings. We realise a softening scene, in contemplating these fragmentary tribes, traversing their ancient haunts, and uttering the unanswered, and then melancholy call which distinguishes their race. When this party were told that their relations were living under the protection of Robinson, they expressed an anxious wish to join them, and met them with exclamations of joy.

The numerous islands that surround the coast, greatly facilitated the detention of captives: few of the male natives could swim; few understood the structure of a catamaran. The means of escape were not easily obtained, and for a time the novelty and repose of their bondage mitigated their dislike to its restrictions: these natural fortresses kept them in safety, without the aspect of a prison; and one or other island was accessible from most points of the Tasmanian shore.

Colonel Arthur implied, by his closing proclamation, when he dismissed the forces, that their labors formed the first series of a connected plan, only partially developed. The war was, in the estimation of the Governor and his friends, a preparation for a mission of peace. It was fortunate that Robinson's early progress imparted to the warlike expedition the eclat of reflected success. It is not necessary to scrutinise the notion, or to teach what this history will not warrant—that measures of conciliation are more successful, when pursued under the forms of hostility. Had the milder method been tested at an earlier period, the expenses of the campaign might have been spared. Colonel Arthur, however, warmly approved, and strenuously supported the pacific mission: not only was he convinced that nothing further could be expected from arms, but he felt a real compassion for the unfortunate race. In this course, he found considerable opposition. "We strongly raise our voice," one editor remarks, "against their civilisation. The natives are not to be trusted; and the lives of all engaged in the mistaken policy of conciliation, are never safe for one moment."

The conduct of this mission, the Governor entrusted to the Aborigines' Committee, originally consisting of Archdeacon Broughton, Rev. Messrs. Bedford and Norman; P. A. Mulgrave, J. Thomas, S. Hill, and Charles Arthur, Esquires. Their authenticated statements are embodied in these pages: their sentiments accorded with their character, but were slightly tinged by the feelings of the day.

To devise the means of capture, and superintend their application, was their most important function. It was proposed by one gentleman, exasperated by injuries, or perhaps unconscious of the details of his plan, to pursue the natives with bloodhounds. Another suggested the employment of a man, "who would soon put an end to the eastern mob; and who had already killed half that tribe, by creeping upon them and firing among them." He thought that "the worst men were the best to engage" in this work. Another proposed to employ the sealers—men who had waged a war of extermination with great success. It is but just to observe, that proposals like these, though received, were not favored by the Governor. They are in the records of Office, connected with the names of their authors, and they admit no other excuse than a reference to recent acts of aboriginal violence, which had shaken the common principles of British humanity.

The Governor had already announced the re-capture of the natives who escaped from Mr. Batman's, while he was absent at the war. They re-commenced depredations: he finally re-took them without bloodshed. But the most pleasing intelligence, and that which chiefly inspired hope, came from the south-east extremity of the island: Mr. Robinson went round the coast; touched at Macquarie Harbour, visited Circular Head, and Portland: there he took Lemina Beginna, a chief, and twenty-two others, including thirteen conciliated at George's River. These were brought round to Gun Carriage Island; a temporary abode, ill-suited for their entertainment, and where several soon concluded their troubled career.

Lemina complained that, many years ago, his wife had been taken away by sealers, and entreated the Governor to procure her restoration; another petitioned, that his sister and his mother might be recovered from the same vile oppressors. The sister was known as Black Jock, and seems to have been greatly in request: she was in alliance with the leader of one of the parties—less modest than familiar. A sealer, from whom she had eloped, when she came back to the coast demanded her, with some vehemence, as his wife! So much beloved was this Tasmanian belle. The arbitration of these disputes was no easy task: though sufficiently ridiculous, they often seriously endangered the mission. The Governor issued an order against the interference of the sealers, and declared Mr. Robinson under the special protection of government.

In reference to these captures, the Governor publicly expressed his great gratification, and requested the colonists to promote pacific intercourse, by all available means. The discretion displayed by Robinson, not less than his courage, excited much admiration, and hopes were entertained that the true means of safety were at last discovered. Mr. Robinson now requested that the armed parties should be recalled, depots established to afford an asylum to the captives, and additional agents employed. Mr. Cotterell, and others were engaged to act in subordination to the movements of Robinson. The Sydney blacks, ten of whom had been brought down by Mr. Batman, for the mission, had been found less useful: they were rewarded, and sent home. The aborigines of New Holland despised the Tasmanian blacks—a race, ignorant of the womera![20]

In the following September, 1831, Mr. Robinson obtained another considerable accession, assisted by Lemina Beginna: they travelled, backwards and forwards, for four hundred miles, and found old acquaintances. Eumarrah, the chief of the Stony Creek tribe, when he saw Mr. Robinson, ran to him and shook hands, and with five men and one woman, gave himself up: three only of his tribe remained! The captives were described as remarkably athletic: they talked incessantly, and complained bitterly that their women had been stolen. The inequality of numbers confirmed this charge. While Robinson was with them, a boat's crew came in sight; and it required all his influence to prevent the natives from retreating with precipitation. Thus the evil they suffered in their first intercourse, pursued them to the last moment of their freedom.

M'Kay, who had been employed under Mr. Robinson, added to these captures. Two friendly native women accompanied him, and they followed the track for a week. At last, they found the natives encamped in a plain: in the dead of night the party dashed in among them, and took two men, one woman, and a boy. Surrage, also assisted by two native females, captured eight men and two women. Their method was curious: the tame women were sent up the hill, where the fires were seen: they returned; four men followed them down to the boat, and six others, men and women, were speedily seen in the footsteps of their companions.

While these captures were proceeding, Mr. Robinson started for the Surrey Hills and Circular Head. He left the party lately conciliated in Launceston: they were cheerful, and expected their proposed voyage to the islands with great glee. They spoke of their past outrages without reluctance, which they justified by relating the cruelties they had suffered.

The Governor was anxious to notice every instance of intrepidity and kindness: it is the coward that is ferocious. The indulgences of the crown were freely given to persons, of whatever class, who exemplified courage and humanity. Mr. Anstey, a young gentleman of the interior, was rewarded with five hundred acres. He had surprised and taken several, and the skill of his arrangements prevented the effusion of blood. In a few instances, the natives voluntarily surrendered. Mr. Charles Headlam saw two approaching, holding up their hands—thus indicating the absence of their spears: he was standing on the threshold when he remarked the signal, and immediately lowered his gun. These unfortunate beings were admitted into the house, and supplied with food; and finally conducted to a place of safety.

These feelings were occasionally damped by acts of atrocity, committed by the blacks. It is not to be supposed, however, that provocation ceased, or that the impulse given by four years conflict, could be simultaneously paralysed. The tribes frequenting the Tamar and the Forth, were represented as becoming increasingly mischievous. The fate of Mrs. M'Alister was deeply affecting: when wounded, she ran bleeding from her dwelling: her servants carried off the children to a place of safety. The unhappy mother concealed herself, for a time, in a field of corn: unable longer to suppress her anxiety, she rushed from her hiding place, crying out for her children. She was seen by the blacks, and slain! The relater of this catastrophe concludes—"Let the sentence of extermination in their hearts, be firmly sent forth on our parts." If we shudder at such sentiments, they scarcely awaken surprise, when closing a narrative like this.

The murder of Captain Thomas and Mr. Parker, by the Big River tribe, renewed the exasperation. His servants, who had landed some provisions, gave a small portion to the natives. He was told by three of the blacks, that many were in the woods, and he resolved to follow them. Parker, who accompanied him, advised him to take his gun. As they were walking, a native snatched it away: they became alarmed and ran, and were pierced with spears. This case seemed to indicate a hopeless spirit of innate malice: Captain Thomas was known to be humane, and his object was to conciliate. The natives had, however, experienced great cruelties from the servants and others. A coroner's jury brought in a verdict of wilful murder: those charged were arrested, and committed to gaol; afterwards, they were removed to Flinders. As the vessel rounded the coast, the scene of the murder was visible, and they became extremely agitated; but the opinion of the colony was no longer favorable to executions, and the government had discovered a more excellent way.

Mr. Robinson now landed at Circular Head, and assisted by his native companions, he followed up the Big River tribe: he fell in with the party at Lake Echo; they had moved with haste, and left behind several stand of arms, a looking glass, and the gun of Captain Thomas. Other encampments were passed, but when Robinson approached them, they invariably fled. They had been to a spot twenty miles south-east of the Van Diemen's Land Company's establishment, whither they were accustomed to resort for a mineral, which is found in a decomposed bed of felspar. From this place they were followed by Robinson, who overtook them thirty miles north-west of the Peak of Teneriffe. He saw them first to the east of the Barn Bluff Mountain, and was not more than two miles distant. He hailed his people, and selected a few of his friendly natives, who, together with the woman present at the murder of Captain Thomas, were sent to meet them. The party of Robinson were concealed by a scrub. In less than half an hour he heard the war-whoop, and perceived that they were advancing, by the rattling of their spears. This was an awful moment to their pacificator. On their approach, the chief, Manalanga, leaped on his feet in great alarm, saying that the natives were coming to spear them: he urged Mr. Robinson to run, and finding he would not, took up his rug and spears and went away. The rest of the allies prepared to follow him; but were prevailed on by Robinson to remain. They inferred, that the natives sent on the embassy of peace, were either killed, or that they had joined the hostile tribe. As these advanced, the friendly emissaries were unseen, being hidden by the larger number of the strangers, who still raised their cry, and approached in warlike array. At length Robinson saw his own people: he then went up to the chiefs and shook hands with them. He explained the object of his visit; distributed trinkets among them, and sat down and partook refreshment with them. From that time they placed themselves under his control, and as they advanced towards Hobart Town, he encouraged them to make excursions, which left their own actions free, and prevented suspicion and distrust. With their wives and children, this party consisted of thirty-six, and at length they were safely lodged on Swan Island. They were fine muscular men, and excited great interest and sympathy.

This incident suggested to the venerable artist, Mr. Duterreau, the idea of a national picture: he depicts the interview, and delineates the various countenances, drawn from the life, with great energy and effect. Robinson is seen in expostulation with a listening chief; a woman, behind him, is endeavouring to pour distrust into his ear. Others are looking on in expectation or in doubt. The grouping is skilful and expressive; and this picture, which has the great merit of minutely representing the attitudes and customs of the natives, will be an interesting memorial, in another age, of the most honorable passage in Tasmanian history.

The results of his enterprise produced a strong impression in favor of Mr. Robinson: he had been thought rash, and even fanatical; his death had been predicted a hundred times—his success was attributed, half in jest and half in earnest, to some species of animal enchantment. The government, at the suggestion of the Committee, acknowledged his exertions, not only with warm eulogy but substantial rewards. He received a maximum grant, in the title of which his service to the public was recorded, and was paid a salary more suited to the office he filled. Others were also liberally recompensed for their contributions to his success, of which the merit was more in its conception than in its detail.

Having shewn the possibility of conciliation, Mr. Robinson declined the further risk of his life, except on terms which would place his family beyond the reach of want. The Governor fully met his just claims, providing pensions for his wife and children, in case of his death, and promising L1,000,—L300 in hand, and the rest when all should be brought in. It was understood, that the future government of the aborigines should be entrusted to his charge, when the mission had realised its intention. The Governor granted all his requests, and spared no expense to ensure his success. The task was not accomplished for several years, but from this time the natives at large rarely appeared, and the colonists enjoyed that repose to which they so long had been strangers. His labours were attended with various and unusual perils. It was the custom of the men belonging to the Circular Head establishment, to approach the native fires, and destroy all they could not capture. One night, Robinson, with his black attendants, were on a point of land six miles from the establishment: the people were attracted by the smoke, when turning accidentally, he saw seven men cautiously creeping round: they had levelled their muskets: but for an instant recognition of his voice, his labours and his life would probably have ended.

Mr. Robinson had learned, that a large party were approaching Arthur River, on their way to their own country, and returning from a warlike expedition against those recently captured. He resolved to send four friendly blacks, and three recent converts, to open a communication with this tribe: they were to make signals, if successful. Two days after, the sign was given. On reaching the farther bank, he saw the wild natives coming towards him with their waddies and spears. He proposed that they should re-cross with him: they, however, desired him to remain, promising to hunt for his entertainment. He consented, and made them presents; but he left his son, and a small party, in the rear. He was alarmed at night by a friendly native, who being acquainted with one of the hostile tribe, had learned that it was intended to murder him and his people. Robinson concealed his knowledge from his companions, lest their fears should be too powerful to suffer their remaining with him. The assassins extinguished their own fires, but did not lie down to sleep: Robinson kept his burning brightly, that he might watch their movement. They were earnestly chattering, and were trimming their weapons, while one of their number insisted upon the cruelty of killing the white man! On Robinson's rising, the whole seized their spears—one grasped in their right hand, and a bundle in their left. The dogs of Robinson's party had been secured, and their spears removed; they, however, escaped, and he was left alone. In a moment, he darted into the scrub: at this retreat, they seemed struck with astonishment; and quickly covered by the thicket, their spears did not reach him. On clearing the scrub, he hastened to Arthur River, and crossed on a floating tree. At this instant, the natives reached the bank: he was soon joined by his own friends, and confronted the hostile party, who stood on the opposite bank flourishing their spears. Robinson cried out, that he forgave their conduct, and offered them his protection. This induced a girl and two men to join him; but his situation was perilous, and having made fires, as if for signals, he hastened away, to deposit the proselytes in safety.

This tribe continued at large until 1834. They had determined never to be taken—to subsist upon the quoib (badger), and to perish rather than yield. Finding Mr. Robinson in pursuit, they endeavoured to elude his search by false direction sticks. The blacks in his company dreaded an ambush, and declared that they should all be slain, if they proceeded further, now that their pursuit was known to the hostile tribe. Mr. Robinson, however, resolved to persevere, and soothed their fears. The march was long and harassing, the natives having divided into three parties, the better to escape. They were captured: eight in February, three in March, and in April, nine; and were embarked at Circular Head for Launceston, and thence to Flinders' Island.

The Governor warmly congratulated the colony on its deliverance, but the numbers that remained were greater than he imagined. The abolition of martial law was deemed by some to be premature. Twenty were captured in 1834, and seventeen in 1835. Mr. Robinson, after nine months pursuit, came up with the small relics which were known to be still at large, in Middlesex Plains, and found one man, four women, and two children: they had travelled as far as the head of the Derwent. Two men, sent by Robinson with despatches from the place of their capture, were lost in the bush, and perished. It was now announced, that no more aborigines were at large: in this, both Mr. Robinson and the government were mistaken. Rumours, for several years, were continually stirring, of blacks fleeing in the distance; of the thin smoke, the native cry, and other indications of their presence. At length it was proved, that these were not the ghosts of the departed tribes. In December, 1842, at Circular Head, seven persons were captured, and rejoined their long banished countrymen. This remnant consisted of a single family: the parents about fifty years; the rest of ages from childhood to thirty years. They were taken by a sealer, whose boat they had pilfered, and conveyed to Flinders'. They were more than usually intelligent in their appearance: they did not understand one word of English, and they had probably retained to the last the primitive manners of their race.

Mr. Robinson was a builder at Hobart Town, his family was large, and depended on his trade. It detracts nothing from his merit, while it is honorable to the government, that he was a gainer by successful humanity. The munificence of the crown, alone prevented a larger subscription by the people; he had, however, the warm and unanimous expression of public gratitude.

The character of his mission was supported by his conduct. He went unarmed, and if the natives approached him at all, they were devoid of fear and therefore of ferocity. He plunged into the heart of the forest, assumed the habits of a wanderer, and continued his absence for months together. He shared the danger of his allies, and confided in their affection: he encouraged their sports, and so far as could a white man, without debasement, he became one among them. Hitherto the English had dealt treacherously, and rarely approached their camps, but to oppress, to mock, or to destroy them. They now discovered, that all were not enemies, and kindness was felt more powerfully by contrast. It is said by Backhouse, that Robinson acted under a sense of religious duty; by Mann, that he was a fatalist or predestinarian: he was calumniated by the base and the envious: the ascendancy he acquired over the natives, the Christian philosopher can easily comprehend. The effect of "good will to men," is peace on earth. Moral courage, united with generosity, often overpowers the suspicion and hostility, of even the most barbarous. The coward dies, while the man of bold spirit dissipates the clouds of distrust, and wakens in others the confidence he himself cherishes. Nor is it necessary for the writer to observe, that Divine Providence gives back often, the "hazard of their lives," to the resolute in right, or that an omnipotent protector attends the footsteps of the merciful.