A ten ton crushing is going through the little 3-head mill on the Lake Way lease from the Black Swan in a day or two. This parcel is bound to yield well, and I will leave further comment until the mill has had its say.
The mill had its say and the crushing yielded 97 ounces of smelted (heating the ore so that only the metal remained) gold. The partners of the mine, Ephraim Walsh and Jack Wallace, would have been pleased. From Lake Way (near Wiluna) Mr Charles Milton (a Commission Agent) brought the gold to Lawlers for transportation to Cue under Police escort.
May it please Your Royal Highness, On behalf of the citizens of Perth, the capital city of the State of Western Australia, we, the Mayor and councillors, beg to tender to Your Royal Highness a loyal and hearty welcome.
And welcome him they did. The people of Perth lined the streets and cheered loudly as Prince Edward, standing in a car specially provided for him, acknowledged the thousands who came into town to see him.
The official schedule for his visit was jam-packed. The Prince was not only staying in Perth, he was spending 10 days in Western Australia and was visiting some of the country towns.
He was to travel to each destination by railway (the fastest way to travel in 1920) and, in order to ensure that the Prince travelled in the comfort he was accustomed to, a special carriage was constructed and fitted out accordingly.
This blog post is a follow up to Death at Lake Austin. You may wish to read Death at Lake Austin first before reading the story of Credgington and Bradbury.
Old Mate! In the gusty old weather,
When our hopes and our troubles were new,
In the years spent in wearing out leather,
I found you unselfish and true –
I have gathered these verses together
For the sake of our friendship and you.
To An Old Mate – Henry Lawson
Having a mate on the goldfields may not have been preferred or necessary for some but for others it certainly helped. It meant there was someone there to talk to; to share in the ups and downs and discuss the next move over a cup of billy tea. It meant the jobs of prospecting and transporting equipment as well as the burden of costs were shared. Most importantly, it meant there was someone there to look out for you should anything untoward happen.
Alfred Credgington and Ernest Bradbury’s stories were separate for most of their lives. Both were chasing the golden dream and it was this dream, on the goldfields of Western Australia, that led the pair to meet; their stories converging and remaining joined indefinitely.
The origin stories of words and how they evolved is fascinating. A word may have a particular use or meaning today but had a completely different meaning in the past (such as the word ‘dude‘). A word may have developed from another word or started off as slang. Perhaps a word which is common today filtered into the public’s vocabulary thanks to clever use of advertising. Then there are words and their meanings, regularly used at one point in time, which eventually disappear. The ‘hatter’ is one such example.
WARNING: Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are warned that the following blog post may contain images and names of deceased persons.
On 26 November 1930 Hughie King departed Austin Downs Station (his place of employment) and headed southeast towards Lake Austin. Foxes were a nuisance in the area and, as part of his job, he went hunting to try and curb the pest.
It was the end of spring and the steady approach of summer was making itself known. The weather was hot. Lake Austin (a system of mostly water-less salt lakes) shimmered in the unforgiving sun. The grass was long in places and perhaps it was the heat which drew Hughie to a small gum tree at the southeast part of the lakes. Perhaps it was something else entirely; an indescribable intuitive feeling. He approached the tree and there, beneath the limited shade and partially covered by grass and sand, were the skeletal remains of two people. Understandably spooked by the grim vision before him, Hughie did not choose to hang around and immediately took off.
It all started innocently enough. The British India steamer Nalgora departed Calcutta in early November and arrived in Fremantle Harbour on 27 November 1931 carrying a cargo of gunnies (coarse, heavy fabric) and bananas. The unloading of the cargo began almost immediately and it was at that point that a monkey was spied on deck.
All Olaf Magnus Svenson really wanted was a home, food, water, a garden and peace and quiet. To achieve this, he decided to set himself up far away from civilisation; over 50km away from the nearest town; on a remote mountain near the Yellowdine Nature Reserve.
Described as a “bare granite rock” and a “waterless, hungry spot“, Mount Clara (nearly an hour away from Southern Cross and close to the Karalee Rocks) would not have been the most hospitable place in Western Australia. To his credit, Olaf made it work.
Often described as German, he was actually Swedish and was born to parents, Sven Olsen and Christina Nilson, in approximately 1854. In Sweden he married Anna Swenham at age 30 (1884) and had three children. He was a sailor which could explain how he ended up in Australia, spending two years in Victoria and two years in Tasmania. By the 1890s (perhaps coinciding with the goldrush) he arrived in Western Australia and in 1896 he was located east of Southern Cross, having decided that the area at Mount Clara would do nicely for a home.
Excitement was caused in Northam when it was reported that a strange creature had been seen on two or three successive nights in the Avon River, near the Central Bridge.
On 14 January 1929, The West Australian broke the story of the strange creature in the Avon River. While some swore that what they had seen was a small alligator resting on a sandbank, others stated that it was a shark. Most people however felt that both speculations were incorrect and that it was most likely just a large lizard. Whatever it was, Police found the claims to be serious enough that, at 1am in the morning, they attempted a search and, during the day, a Constable patrolled the bridge with a rifle. With no success, a more thorough investigation was organised to take place on 15 January.
Hundreds of people lined the riverbanks and the bridges and watched the Police carry out their search, all to no avail. Despite descriptions (said to be five feet long) and the occasional sighting, the monster eluded capture.
By the 16 January, the monster was still at large.
While today (in most parts of the world) whaling is thankfully banned, in the past, whaling was an occupation that was carried out regularly. Whales were hunted to extremes for their blubber, oil and bones. Western Australia was no exception with whaling being an early industry in the colony. Early accounts indicate great excitement at whales being killed and reports were regularly printed in the papers. On 2 September 1843, the Perth Gazette and Western Australian Journal printed an article recounting the news for the whaling industry for the previous fortnight. They then went on to describe “a curious scene” in Fremantle.
Numerous whales had been attacked by the whalers however it was reported that one of them had been harpooned and then managed to pull away, dragging the boat and its occupants with it. Near Straggler Rocks it began to dive and the whalers in the boat had no choice than to cut the rope attached to the harpoon.
Thinking that they had lost the whale, the whalers returned to shore. A few days later news soon spread that the whale had in fact died from its wounds and had been found washed up on North Beach, located a few miles from Fremantle. The whalers gathered what they needed and headed straight to the beach, hoping to recover as much of the whale as possible.
Meanwhile, news also reached Perth of the whale on the beach. The fascination at seeing a whale close up was too much for some and as it was only an hour’s ride from Perth to the Fremantle area, many people took off on their horses to catch a glimpse of it. One amongst the group was a young man, suitably nicknamed ‘Jonas’ by the paper, perhaps in a bid to protect his identity.
‘Jonas’ arrived and noticing that the first spade was about to be dug in, decided to seize the opportunity of being first for himself. He jumped on top of the whale and dug in his spade, only to be met with an almighty explosion! There was nowhere else for ‘Jonas’ to go but down into the rotting belly of the whale.
Initially everyone laughed at his predicament but seeing as though ‘Jonas’ was struggling, they quickly went about undertaking the difficult task of rescuing him from inside the whale. ‘Jonas’ was safely returned to land unhurt but left in a rather putrid state.