E23 - Off to the Rush - Crossing the Darling - Twice

A newborn in a spring cart, a flood-swollen river, and a punt that won’t run on Sundays—our 1852 trek along the Murray is a study in grit, chance, and consequence.  We read the original diaries aloud and sit with what they reveal: Regent parrots blazing over saltbush, lost stockmen saved by First Nations know-how, and the stark reality of cattle drowning as they “ring the water” mid-crossing.  Every scene is anchored in place—Frenchman’s Creek, Bagot’s Billabong, the Great Darling Anabranch—so you can feel how the landscape sets the agenda.

We trace the web of stations claimed by Ned Bagot and unpack squatting in plain terms: land taken, lines drawn, and law arriving after the fact through Commissioners of Crown Lands.  From McLeod’s rough inn to a government-proclaimed ferry, the junction that becomes Wentworth shows how a track hardens into a town.  Along the way, river science meets story: the Darling’s brown current sliding beside the Murray’s clearer flow, a two-toned seam that Sturt and Hawdon both recorded.  Those split waters echo the cultural currents that meet without blending—overlanders relying on local canoe crews while the diaries stay quiet on payment and credit.

There’s tension and tenderness in the details: Mary Emmett nursing two small children while the drays inch through bog and scrub, horses swimming clean while bullocks panic, tolls posted while floodwater erases the “original road.”  We follow the rise of policing and lockups on the riverbank and the later heritage that preserves bricks while we argue over meaning.  By the time the convoy reaches Gol Gol, the Murray has the last word, forcing a pause and a plan for another day.  If you care about Australian history, river systems, First Nations labour, overlanding, and how towns like Wentworth came to be, this story gives you the map and the mud.

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Transcript

Setting The 1852 Scene

SPEAKER_06 0:03

G'day, I'm Peter. And good day, I'm Greg.

Birth At Lake Victoria

SPEAKER_00 0:06

Welcome to today's Stories from Our Past, a podcast about a history of Australia from about 1800 onwards. So it's August 1852. Our hardy trekkers had eventually made some good progress after having spent a couple of weeks on Chowwilla Station rounding up stray bullocks. They'd travelled from Lake Bonnie to the northern end of Lake Victoria. When they arrived there, Bill Emmett's wife Mary gave birth to a baby boy. Now she had a newborn plus a 15-month-old son to take care of while on the trek.

SPEAKER_06 0:45

Yeah, so what's next?

SPEAKER_00 0:47

Well, firstly, as with the last episode, a warning here. Along this and the next sections of their journey, our party and other Europeans encountered groups of First Nations people. As usual, we will use diary entries from those Europeans who are involved in our story. The language used in the diaries wouldn't be appropriate today and may be offensive to some listeners. However, we don't want to filter or alter the content of the diaries. So throughout we are quoting them verbatim.

SPEAKER_06 1:22

Okay, so if Mary had just given birth, they're saying camp for a while to give it time to get over the delivery.

SPEAKER_00 1:29

I'll let the father, Bill Emmett, tell us what happened next.

A Note On Historical Language

SPEAKER_04 1:34

Friday, 10th of September. Mary and baby doing well and wishing to get on as fast as possible. Dr. Lloyd, who was one of our party, said we could start on with easy journeys. We therefore determined to start next morning. Saturday, 11th September. All prepared to start about half past nine. The road being pretty good and camped at five o'clock within a few miles of station. Saw some splendid parrots.

Regent Parrots And Country

SPEAKER_00 2:00

When Bill Emmet talks about seeing some splendid parrots, they must have been something out of the ordinary, as they would have seen various parrots and cockatoos all the time. I suspect that he is referring to regent parrots, who are bright yellow with a bright orange beak and a black tail. Today, in Eastern Australia, regent parrots are confined to the area that they were traveling through. Sturt was so impressed with this parrot that he included a painting of it in his 1832 report. The painting is entitled A Black Tailed Parakeet, but in the report of his journey, he doesn't actually say where he saw it. Interestingly, Sturt wasn't the first European to see the Regent Parrot. A painting of it was published in England in 1832.

SPEAKER_06 2:52

Isn't it a bit rough on poor old Mary travelling in a spring cart over a rough bush track just a day or so after giving birth?

SPEAKER_00 3:00

Agreed. Bill Emmett next writes.

SPEAKER_04 3:03

Sunday, September 12th. Started about 10 o'clock. Some parts of the road being very heavy and camped at Frenchman's Creek on a swamp. The mosquitoes being so numerous, we expected to be devoured by them.

Pushing On After Childbirth

SPEAKER_00 3:16

Given that it's taken a couple of days to reach Frenchman's Creek, this confirms that they must have camped at the northern end of Lake Victoria when Mary went into her confinement, as it was known at the time. Frenchman's Creek is a short but important tributary of the Murray River on the New South Wales side. In the 1920s, Lake Victoria was modified by the then River Murray Commission to its current state as a regulated off-river storage. Embankments and regulators were built to control water entering the lake from the River Murray via Frenchman's Creek, upstream of Loch No. 9. These changes increased the maximum capacity of the lake to 677 gigaliters. Water released through the outlet regulator flows from the lake into the Rufus River and returns to the Murray downstream of Loch No. 7. Lake Victoria covers 12,200 hectares, yet only has a maximum depth of about 5.5 metres when full.

SPEAKER_04 5:16

Yeah. Bill then writes. Monday, September 13th. Very glad to leave the swamp and reached Baggett's Billabong. Tuesday, September 14th. William Henry Neal and Bill Emmett went to Baggett Station to kill a bullock to eat, and brought three fine young bullocks, called steers, to yoke up.

unknown 5:38

Mr.

SPEAKER_04 5:39

Hennel and Charlie went for the horses about eleven o'clock, but not returning. We became alarmed in fear they should have lost their way in the scrub. James O'Donohue went in search of them, but could not find any trace.

Baggett’s Billabong And Supplies

SPEAKER_00 5:51

We had mentioned Ned Baggett before. It's time to discuss him in a bit more detail now. Edward Mead Baggett, known as Ned, was an Irish-born Australian pastoralist and developer. The 18-year-old Ned emigrated to South Australia with his parents and siblings, arriving in December 1840. His father took up a pastoral property at Kunanga in 1841, which Ned helped manage. And then in 1843, Ned took a position as accountant and store manager at the newly opened Capunda Copper Mine. Ned took up numerous squatting runs across Victoria, South Australia, New South Wales, and the Northern Territory. We'll confine ourselves here to his southern properties. In South Australia in 1846, he took up the Merthu Run. Merthu was northeast of Renmark and was bounded by the River Murray on its northern and western sides and the Victorian border on the east. Chawilla Station is on the opposite side of the river to Merthu. In Victoria, he took up several runs. The 1862 Victorian Scottish Directory lists his runs as Lindsay Island, Woolwall, Lower Kullmine, and Lower Kalallarine, which were all adjacent and bordered the southern side of the river. Hence, the locality is now known as Ned's Corner. These runs ran west to the South Australian border, so they connected with the Merthu Run. In New South Wales, in 1848, Ned set up a string of cattle and sheep stations on the northern bank of the Murray River, west of the Great Darling Annum Branch, which included the Mourner, Wanganema, and Rominia runs, though by 1854, the names of the latter two runs seems to have changed as they vanished from the map. By 1853, a police station was established at Mourna.

SPEAKER_06 8:00

Well, Ned Burger certainly claimed a lot of land for himself.

Who Was Ned Baggett

SPEAKER_00 8:04

Yeah. What Ned was doing was called squatting. We'll discuss the whole business of squatting in later episodes when we talk about one of my ancestors who became one of the pure merino squatters on the Darling Downs. Essentially, the squatters just lobbed onto land unoccupied by Europeans and claimed it for themselves. Colonial governors had little control over this activity and were always playing catch-up. Eventually, commissioners of Crown Lands were appointed in various districts across the continent to administer, as best they could, this land rush. For the southwest corner of New South Wales, the first commissioners of Crown Lands were appointed in November 1851 and were based at Warner, along with the Court of Pretti Petty Sessions and the Native Police.

SPEAKER_06 8:57

But what about the First Nations people who lived there?

SPEAKER_00 9:00

They had no say in this process. As I said, we'll discuss this in detail later on. Now, when our trekkers say they went to Baggett Station to kill a bullock tweet, I'm fairly sure that they mean the Mourner Run. The Mourner Run includes a large horseshoe-shaped billabong that was variously called Baggett's Billabong, Pink Lake, and more recently, Purda Billabong, and this is where our hardy trekkers camped. As an aside, like Joseph Horden, Ned Baggett also did an overland trek from New South Wales to South Australia in order to bring cattle to that colony. His trek was in 1847, and it was reported in many of the newspapers at the time.

SPEAKER_06 9:50

Okay. But what about Henry Henel and Charlie who had got themselves lost?

SPEAKER_00 9:56

James O'Donohue can tell us what happened next.

Squatting And Crown Control

SPEAKER_01 10:00

Wednesday, September 15th. James O'Donohue and natives started at daybreak in search of Henel and Charlie, walked all day, but could not discover which way they had gone and returned at sundown. All considered it well to send all the natives, as well as our own people, on horseback next morning in search of them. About 10 o'clock that night, we were all very pleased to hear Henel's voice. They were very tired and hungry, not having had anything to eat except a few roots, which the natives call amber. Thursday, September the 16th, started once more on our journey, having eight miles to reach Annabranch. The three steers working very well. The water that supplied the Annabranch came out of the Murray higher up and again went into the Murray lower down. You could not see any current, the water being very dirty.

SPEAKER_00 10:52

Just some explanation here. An Anabranch is a water course that runs parallel to a river, but generally only flows in a big flood. The first thing to note here is that the Annabranch is not out of the Murray. It's out of the Darling. The Great Darling Anabranch flows approximately 470 kilometers from its offtake on the Darling River south of Menindi, southward to the Murray River, west of Wentworth. In most years, there is very little flow in the Annabranch, which was the situation when our group arrived there. Bill Emmett continues his story.

Lost In The Scrub

SPEAKER_04 11:30

Friday, September 17th. About 200 natives were here camped, and with their mongoes or canoes were ready to cross our luggage. The water that supplied the Anabranch came out of the Murray higher up a few miles and again went into the Murray lower down. The Anabranch was only a sluggish stream. You could not see any current, and the water looked dirty. With the help of the natives, we crossed the Anabranch about four o'clock, after which the horses and bullocks had to swim across. The bullocks were put into the river. It was about the width of the Thames in England, and which is not frequently the case, commenced what is called ringing the water, and unfortunately, three were drowned. The horses and cows came over safely.

SPEAKER_06 12:20

But uh ringing is really what happens when cattle start swimming across a stream. Instead of going straight across, they start to circle back on themselves driven by pressure from behind or the current of the water and end up getting all intermingled. And it's pretty difficult in that situation for cattle to keep them afloat and heading in the right direction. So it's no wonder that some cattle were end up being drowned. But once again, they don't say how they paid the First Nations people for their labour.

SPEAKER_00 12:52

No. Now, outrekkers weren't the first Europeans to cross the Great Darling Anna Branch. Joseph Horden crossed it on 2 March 1838. He recorded the following in his diary. March 2nd.

The Great Darling Anabranch

Crossing With Canoes And Tragedy

SPEAKER_03 13:08

Early in the morning we encountered a tribe of stout, powerfully made blacks. I counted about 100 men, with the same number of women and children behind them. The men stood threatening us with their spears and motioning to us to go away. Not being in a humour to hold conversation with them, we passed on, crossing two broad and deep channels, which I am rather inclined to think are in times of great flood, outlets from the Darling into the Murray. Here we saw a tribe of natives equal in number to those past in the morning. They carried their spears and were a very important set of fellows. In spite of all my threats and warnings, they would close around the stockman. One of them asked me in perfect seriousness whether the heifers, pointing to the cattle, were our wives. This sage question so amused my fancy that I called to Mr Bonnie, telling him what the black had said, and we both of us indulged in a hearty laugh, on which the old fellow turned away, seeming quite ashamed of his ridiculous blunder. Some of the others began to get rather troublesome, and one was nearly shot by Brian, one of my men, who saw him raise his spear at me while my back was turned. They gathered in such numbers close around the stock that the cattle got alarmed and wheeled about among them, two of the beasts charging the blacks right and left, who saved themselves from being gored only by their extreme agility. It is astonishing that, although on the course of our journey we passed through so many tribes, yet on every approach of a new tribe, the whole herd of cattle were so agitated as to become nearly unmanageable. Long before they could catch sight of the blacks, they evidently knew of their approach by the smell, and would carry their heads erect in the air and snort aloud. The present tribe followed us no further, but while crossing an extensive plain, we saw another large tribe sitting on the brow of a hill, in rows one above the other. The last party were painted with white stripes, these with red. At first I suspected there was some mischief brewing from our having seen so many natives within the last two hours, but I soon perceived, to my satisfaction, that the upper lines consisted of women and children. When we got opposite to them about forty of the men came after us without their spears, led by a fine old chief, and evidently desirous of being on friendly terms with us. Most of them followed us to the place where we encamped on a high bank. Their chief was one of the most sensible men I ever met with among the savages of New Holland, and appeared to have his men in great order and perfectly under his command. He was anxious to have the use of everything explained. It was a long time before he could be made to comprehend how it was that the wheels of the Dreys were able to pass round. I gave him an iron tomahawk, with which he was delighted. Taking my hand, he placed it on his breast, and pointing to a little boy, his son, and gradually raising his hand above the boy's head to the height of a man's stature. He by these signs gave me to understand that he would keep this tomahawk for him and give it to him when grown up, to hunt opossums with, at the same time imitating the manner in which these animals were taken and killed. He described to me an extensive lake that lay to the northward, and produced a piece of flint that had been picked up in its neighbourhood. It is therefore not impossible that ranges might still be met with, forming a back to this vast continent, if so good land would be sure to be found in their vicinity. My impression was that the sandy country I had been crossing commenced from the south of Lake Alexandrina, and would most likely terminate to the north, a little higher than our present position, as the country in that direction appeared to be of a rather more elevated character. The next day, Horden recorded. March 3rd. The old chief came at daylight to breakfast with me on some of the ducks we'd shot together on the previous evening. He was anxious to know when we should return, and at parting he sent forward two of his men as ambassadors to announce our coming to the tribe in advance. We passed over plains covered with bushes and salsuiness plants, to a creek in whose channel there must flow a considerable body of water in times of flood. Following up its course until an hour after sunset, we encamped for the night, but found very few reeds for our cattle. The journey performed by the Dreys today was nineteen miles.

SPEAKER_06 17:55

It's interesting that Horden is aware that he's moving between different First Nations countries and he needs a diplomatic envoy to ensure a safe passage into the new country.

Early Overlanders’ Encounters

SPEAKER_00 18:05

Yeah. Now there's something I don't understand here. Today, the Great Darlingana branch is crossed by a flash new bridge. Beside that bridge is an old wooden structure. The original wooden bridge was built in 1867. A sign near the bridge notes that the modern road should not be confused with the coach route that took a much less direct route closely following the river.

SPEAKER_06 18:33

Yes, so what's your issue?

SPEAKER_00 18:35

Well, I'm wondering how our trekkers, and later on Sydney to Adelaide coaches, crossed the Great Darling Anabranch. As we will soon see, there was a punt at what would become Wentworth, which trays and coaches used to cross the Darling. So how did our trekkers get their bullock trays across the Anna Branch?

SPEAKER_06 18:55

Good question, but moving on, what happened next?

SPEAKER_00 18:58

Bill Emmett can tell us what they faced next.

SPEAKER_04 19:02

Saturday, the 18th of September. Getting all packed up. We started about 10 o'clock and arrived at the River Darling about half past two. Having to cross the loaded drays in a punt, they thought it could be done that afternoon, but several of the bullocks refused to enter the punt. We only got five drays over this day. Sunday, 19th September. Camped some each side of the river. Not very pleasant, as the man who worked the punt refused to work this day, and all our cooking utensils were on the other dray. We understood it was 300 miles from here to the diggings, and the roads near the river were completely under floodwaters.

SPEAKER_06 19:39

Okay, so they crossed the darling a second time, if one considers the Great Darling Anna Branch to be part of the Darling. And from Bill's description, it doesn't seem that the Darling is is in much of a flood. However, they are now aware that the Murray itself has broken its banks and flooded local bilowongs.

SPEAKER_00 19:58

Yeah, and because of the flood in the Murray, our trekkers would not have been able to see the confluence of the Murray and the Darling at modern-day Wentworth. It is often noted that when these two rivers meet, they do not mix instantly, and it is possible to see the brown darling flowing parallel to the clean Murray for some distance downstream of the confluence. Sturt was the first to comment on this phenomenon.

How Did They Cross Back Then

SPEAKER_02 20:26

When he and his party reached the confluence of the Murray and the Darling, although he was not sure it was actually the Darling, he wrote in his diary, The new river, whether the Darling or an additional discovery meets its more southern rival on a north by east course, the latter running west-southwest at the confluence, the angle formed by the two rivers, is therefore so small that both may be considered to preserve their proper course, and neither can be said to be tributary to the other. At their junction, the Murray spreads its waters over the broad and sandy shore, upon which our boat grounded, while its more impetuous neighbor flows through the deep but narrow channel it has worked out for itself under the right bank. The strength of their currents must have been nearly equal, since there was as distinct a line between their respective waters to a considerable distance below the junction, as if a thin board alone separated them. The one half the channel contained the turbid waters of the northern stream. The other still preserved their original transparency.

SPEAKER_00 21:42

Hordon also commented on this phenomenon. On one March 1838, he wrote in his diary.

The Darling Punt At McLeod’s

SPEAKER_03 21:50

March 1st. We had travelled only three miles when we came upon the River Darling, just at the point where it joins the Murray. On the trunk of a tree, That stands on the neck of land forming the junction. I read the words cut in large letters Dig under. The direction was instantly obeyed when we dug up a small file in which was deposited a slip of paper written by Major Mitchell, dated 3 January 1836, and stating that from this point he commenced his return from the darling, that he was surrounded by hostile tribes, and was very anxious about the safety of his party at the depot near the junction of the Murrumbidgee, and giving the names of eleven persons then with him. I again buried the file in the same spot after taking a copy of the Major's memorandum, and adding to it another of my own, to the effect that I had arrived at this point in safety, and with a fair prospect of my having a prosperous journey to St. Vincent's Gulf, should I only find sufficient food to keep alive my stock. The cattle and drays now forded the darling, whilst one wheel was in the dark, turbid water of the darling. The other was in the dark, clear waters of the Murray, passing down the stream in this manner for about three hundred yards. We then turned shore out on the right bank of the latter river. At this season, the water running out of the darling was more than equal to one fifth of the size of the Murray. Proceeding seven miles further, we encamped on the banks of a creek. The country here consists of plains of poor soil, without timber occasionally sprinkled with small bushes, but with scarcely any appearance of grass. The sand hills did not appear, though we here and there crossed the ridge of pine trees. I shot a new kind of owl, which abounds amongst these bushes, with its moor full of beetles. The crested pigeons were also numerous, rising up in covvies of six or eight at a time. These with the wild ducks afforded a pleasant variety to our diet of beef, bread and tea.

SPEAKER_00 23:55

Now I'd be fairly confident that the new kind of owl that Hordon refers to is a tawny frogmouth. These nocturnal birds are not actually owls, and they are insectivorous. Also, if you go to the confluence today, you'll find a memorial to Hordon there.

SPEAKER_06 24:14

Okay, but what's happening with our hardy trekkers?

SPEAKER_00 24:18

Well, they had just taken a punt across the darling. I'm not exactly sure where the punt operated. Now, Wentworth, as we know it today, didn't exist back in 1852 when our trekkers went past. But there was some settlement there. James McLeod opened a hotel of sorts there in about 1847, and thus the junction of the Darling and the Moray became known as McLeod's Crossing.

SPEAKER_06 24:47

So do you think that the punt operator was James McLeod or one of his workers?

Rivers In Flood And Two Colours

SPEAKER_00 24:51

It's probable, but I haven't found conclusive evidence of that yet. Because of the number of overlanders camping there, a police officer was uh stationed at this remote corner of New South Wales from 1851 onwards. A small, unofficial town emerged. In eighteen fifty-three, the government in Sydney advertised the following The River Darling.

SPEAKER_05 25:17

It having become necessary to appoint a place at the crossing of the River Darling, near its confluence with the Murray and near Moorquong, where a road from Sydney to Adelaide meets the River Darling, about nine chains above the Junction Inn, His Excellency the Governor General, by proclamation in Tuesday's Government Gazette, has appointed the said crossing of the River Darling to be a place at which a ferry shall be established, and at which tolls shall be collected to the amount and under the regulations, restrictions, and provisions of the Act, of which ferry all persons concerned are required to take notice.

SPEAKER_06 25:53

So the government in Sydney had recognized the need to license the punt and collect tolls for crossing the Darling. I assume that the Hotel of Sorts that McLeod had operated was a junction inn mentioned in that proclamation.

From Crossing To Township

SPEAKER_00 26:07

Yeah, I think so. By 1858, McLeod's crossing, which had also been known as Hordon's Ford, had grown as the riverboat trade commenced in 1853, and more stations along the Darling were occupied. The government decided to survey a town there, which it did in 1859, and they changed the name to Wentworth on 21 June 1859, after the pioneer who had crossed the Blue Mountains in 1813. Yeah. In mid-1857, Edmund Morris Lockyer, that's the son of Edmund Lockyer, the noted explorer after whom the Lockyer Valley is named, was appointed second lieutenant in the Native Police, Lower Darling District. The first means of detention used in Wentworth was a huge tree trunk at the corner of Adelaide and Darling Street, with a bullock chain and ring bolt, to which the prisoners were handcuffed. The next lockup was a slab hut, located at the southern end of Darling Street. This lockup was used to confine prisoners with sentences of 14 days or less. It was proclaimed to be a prison on 1 December 1870. The current jail was erected in 1879. It has a quadrangle, cell block with 10 male and two female cells, kitchen, hospital, storeroom, the warden's residence, and two observation towers on the corners of the high external walls. The current jail has a set of stocks, a whooping stool, and a flogging rack. With the erection of other jails at Silverton, Broken Hill, and Golbon, the need for a jail at Wentworth declined. The jail was closed in 1928. Old Wentworth Jail, as it is known today, was listed on the New South Wales State Heritage Register on 21 October 2016. Bill Emmett describes their next obstacle.

SPEAKER_04 28:18

Monday, 20th of September. Crossed the remaining drays, and travelled on about four miles, and obliged to camp on account of a large creek, where we were again obliged to unload and cross everything with the natives and their munges. Crossed most of the goods this afternoon and camped at the entrance of a scrub, the original road being about a mile near the river, which was completely covered with water. Tuesday, September 21st. Finished crossing the Dreys and travelled on about one mile, having another creek worse than the last. Put two drays across this evening.

SPEAKER_06 28:57

Yeah, and once again they obtained assistance from the local First Nations people and neglect to tell us how they were paid for their services.

SPEAKER_00 29:05

Yeah. The creek that Bill describes is almost certainly Tucker's Creek, which is best described as an Annabranch. It leaves the Murray about eleven miles, that's 17 kilometers in a straight line from Wentworth, and then meanders on the northern side of the Murray until it flows into the Darling, just upstream of the confluence with the Murray. James O'Donohue can tell us what happened on the next day.

SPEAKER_01 29:30

Wednesday, 22nd September. Got the rest of the things across and loaded up once more. Travelled on about 10 miles and camped at the entrance of a scrub, the original road being about a mile nearer the river, but completely underwater.

SPEAKER_00 29:46

By now, they'd reached the flooded Murray River at their intended crossing point, which is modern-day Golgol. But you'll have to wait until our next episode to see how they got their substantial convoy across the mighty Murray. So, it's goodbye from me.

SPEAKER_06 30:04

And it's goodbye from me. Thank you.