A Home Union Member’s Experience of Being Lost in the “Scrub”.
When I was a child to be lost in the bush seemed a very interesting and exciting experience. So it is, no doubt, but it is not altogether comfortable and it is rather more pleasant to look back upon such an experience than to realize it.
Early on Saturday morning, January 13th, I set out to walk from Whitemark to Mr Holt’s at Badger Corner at the S.W. of Flinders Island. I knew it would take me several hours to walk 15 miles, a good many of which lay through rough scrubby country, so I set off soon after 6 am on a lovely summer’s morning, and after walking three miles stopped to have breakfast with friends.
Starting so early I expected to reach Badger Corner by midday or soon after, so I only took as provisions a small quantity of bread and butter. For about six miles my way was quite plain, then I had to branch off the cleared road and follow a faint bridle track, which I had traversed twice before. Fires had been through this part recently so it was difficult to find the track. However, I kept picking pieces of the yellow fire weed and as I searched for the track, I stuck the flowers into logs and trunks of trees or dropped them on the ground so that I might easily retrace my steps if I could not discover the track. After some searching I did find the track, however, and went on for a mile or two more without experiencing much difficulty. Before I proceed, let me offer a piece of advice to young Home Mission Workers, particularly to those of the weaker sex. Do not attempt a 15 mile journey on foot through unfamiliar country alone or without a guide, it is never advisable and it is hardly ever necessary. Until this time, however, whenever I have gone on journeys I have been accompanied and guided by one or more H.M.U. members who know this island and the waters around its shores. But this time I was unable to let my guides know definitely I was going. When I found, after travelling six or seven miles, that the track was really difficult to find and to follow, my own common sense should have told me it would be wiser to turn back. But for several reasons I was particularly anxious to reach Badger Corner that week, and it was such a lovely morning and I so enjoyed exploring and getting right away from the scene of my scholastic duties for a day or two that I refused to listen to the voice of “common sense” and just went on.
Well, to make a long story short – walking as I believed in the right direction for about six hours I found that I had completely left the right track. The one I was on was just a Surveyor’s line and I did not know where it would lead me. I had gone through some marshy boggy country; indeed in one or two places I had found it rather difficult to get out of the bogs, and now, about 3 pm, I found myself in a thick scrub, high, tough cutting grass, swamp ti-trees and thick undergrowth. I had already met, in a place where I could not get out of their way two large snakes. I had been very respectful to them, I can assure you, merely saying in quite a gentle whisper “sh-sh”. And standing quite still until they glided out of sight and they did not attempt to attack me, but the remembrance of them, and of those boggy quagmires I had come through made me determine to try and struggle onward through the scrub rather than turn back along the way I had come. So, trying to take my bearings from the sun I struggled on and it was a struggle, make no mistake. The scrub was so thick and high that I could not see a hill or the sea, but by the sun I had some idea which direction I ought to take. I tried hard to keep my head clear and to follow the direction, but first I found the thick ti-tree too much for me, then the cruel cutting grass caught and tied me by the neck and hands and feet, and then I got into the bogs again, then again that hateful cutting grass. Evening shadows began to fall and I found myself growing weary so when about 8pm. I found myself on a piece of ground that has no bogs and did not seem likely to harbour snakes, I just pulled a few rushes, said my prayers and lay down, wet through, to have a sleep. The night was cold and a heavy dew fell, so I did not sleep much, but the stars were beautiful and I watched the Southern Cross rise and go across the sky and at daylight on Sunday I left my couch and set off, hoping to get through the scrub. I felt sure that Badger Corner must lie only a few miles to the S.W. of where I was. I had eaten half my bread and butter on Saturday and now finished the rather crushed and sodden remainder of it. I soon found to my dismay that I was too tired and weak to struggle through the scrub as I had done the previous day, so, finding some damp ground and little pools of water I made quite a comfortable bed of ti-tree, took off my soaked boots and skirt and hung them up on trees to dry, remembering that it was Sunday, I lay down and rested peacefully all day, only standing up at intervals to cooee loudly in case someone might be travelling within earshot. I knew this was not at all likely however. That Sunday was a very hot day and I could smell the smoke of bush fires a few miles off, but I was glad of the sun’s warmth. I was so hot and weary. As the day wore on though, the sandflies, mosquitoes and March flies became unbearable and I was thankful when night fell again. On Monday to my horror I found that the pools of water were drying up. My Sunday rest had refreshed me, and feeling stronger, I again tried to struggle through the scrub, first onward towards Badger Corner and then towards home but again I failed. Many times that day I cooeed loud and long. I knew that by 9am the children would discover my absence from home and that when they returned to their homes their parents would know that something had happened to me. Only two families knew that I had started for Badger Corner and by Monday afternoon my friends at Whitemark had become anxious and one boy rode post haste to Mr J Holt’s at Badger Corner and found that I had never reached my destination. By this time it was evening. The news soon spread and messengers were sent to ask all who could to join search parties. By daylight on Tuesday nearly all the male residents of Badger Corner were out, and nearly all the residents of Whitemark and its neighbourhood were out too [80 men and boys and about 40 horses]. – knowing as they did that I had taken scanty provisions and that the weather had been exceedingly warm my friends expected me to be quite exhausted. Meanwhile, on Tuesday morning, finding that the pools had all dried up, I made one more determined effort to struggle through the scrub in the direction of Badger Corner, but after falling and nearly fainting twice, I just returned to my ti-tree couch and rested there. I grubbed a hole in the damp mud with my hands and when the black muddy water which oozed into it settled I dipped a piece of calico into it and thirstily sucked the water through it. The remembrance of the muddy taste almost chokes me now when I think of it. About midday on Tuesday I was lying still with a white cloth spread over my head and face to keep off the flies and the sun when I heard footsteps and the sound of bushes and twigs being broken by something approaching. At first I thought it was a wild pig [there are plenty in the bush here]. I was too weary to move but suddenly I heard a gasp and knew that a human being had caught sight of me and probably thought I was dead so I called out “I’m all right” and sat up. My rescuer was a descendant of Tasmanian natives and half castes. His name is Dick Brown and he works for a farmer at Whitemark. I had often seen him poor fellow. He looked startled, he really had thought I was dead lying there. He ejaculated “Thank God. I’ve found you woman. Keep still I can carry you”. But I assured him I could walk, and so I did with some difficulty, Dick going before and kindly breaking down obstacles, and helping me through difficult places. After what seemed to me like two miles [ but in reality, I suppose, was less than three quarters of a mile] hard walking we reached clear ground and Dick shouted and waved a signal till he made some horsemen hear ; they hurried up and dosed me with whisky and milk and after a few minutes rest I was able to mount a horse kindly lent by D Maynard and, under the guardianship of Mr J Holt, rode about three miles [at walking pace] to his home at Badger Corner where Mrs Holt and her daughters tended and cared for me so kindly that in twenty four hours I felt almost as well as ever gain. I stayed with the Holts till Thursday, when their youngest son, a H.M.U. member, as are all the family, kindly guided me on horseback home to Whitemark. I can never forget the great kindness on the part of all those who so promptly and willingly went in search of me. Many at great inconvenience, to themselves started off at daylight after they heard that I was lost and never stopped going until I was found. Indeed Messrs. Harry and Alf Briant with several of Mr Holt’s sons were out several hours after I was found. They were following my tracks with infinite care and patience all through the thickest scrub and did not see the smoke or hear the cooees which told that I was found.
I wish the H.M.U members in Tasmania to know how very kind all the people here were in coming to the rescue of this Home Mission Member. None seemed to grudge the time and trouble spent. I also wish the H.M.U. Members to know how much the thought of many prayers being offered up by them “for all of those who are working for God in the lonely parts of our Island Homes” helped when I was so far from any human help in the very lonely part of this island. I think those prayers helped me more than anything. I could not feel afraid. God and his angels seemed so near.
J.B.Adams
School Teacher
Whitemark 1912