Atlas Page 93
By Sir T. Cockburn-Campbell

WESTERN Australia, with its three to four thousand miles of coast line, is singularly deficient in good harbours. King George’s Sound and Cambridge Gulf, indeed, may probably be cited as the only two really first-class shelter grounds for vessels which the colony possesses. From Eucla across the Bight to Cape Arid no refuge of any kind exists, nor does a single watercourse, forming creek or inlet, find its way through the limestone cliffs to the seashore. Granite succeeds limestone after passing Cape Arid, and thence to the westward several indentations, such as those at Esperance, Doubtful Island, and Two People Bay, afford protection for small vessels in certain conditions of the weather. Beyond them, Cape Vancouver and Bald Head —bold, jutting buttresses —protect the wide entrance to King George’s Sound, a gulf some ten miles deep, and well sheltered from all but south-western storms. In the centre of the Sound rise the two rocky islands of Breaksea and Michaelmas, on the former of which is a lighthouse and signalling station, connected with the mainland by a submarine cable. From the northern extremity of the Sound -a narrow passage, navigable for vessels of light draught, leads into an inner sheet of water, named Oyster Harbour from the beds of that bivalve with which in former days it was plentifully stocked. Into this lake-like expanse, with its picturesquely-wooded shores and hilly background, flow the King and the Kalgan Rivers, from their distant sources westward of the Porongerup and Stirling Ranges. Three miles south of the entrance to Oyster Harbour another opening in the rocky shores of the Sound presents itself, deep enough to give passage, to the largest ocean steamers, and forming the approach to Princess Royal Harbour, on the northern shores of which stands the town of Albany, the site of the earliest settlement established in the colony, and memorable also in colonial annals as the goal of Eyre’s celebrated and perilous journey across the Great Australian Bight. This harbour, generally known as the "Inner Sound," is a circular basin with a fairly large area of deep water near the entrance, but shallowing towards its western and southern shores. Protecting it on the north are two sister hills, Mount Clarence and Mount Melville, bold masses of granite frowning upon the houses of the town which nestle between and are gradually creeping up their steep and scrub clothed sides. Albany is a well-built, prosperous-looking place, containing over a thousand souls. It is the south terminus of a land-grant railway now in rapid course of construction, which, when finished, will unite the capital and comparatively populous central districts with the only present port of call in Western Australia for the ocean mail steamers. Formerly the vessels of the Peninsular and Oriental Company’s fleet, both outward and inward bound, took in supplies of coal from the large depot maintained in Princess Royal Harbour, and the staff and labourers in the Company’s employ formed no inconsiderable part of the local population. But of late years improvements in machinery and in capacity of stowage have rendered these steamers less dependent upon Albany for coaling purposes, and the Company’s establishment has been broken up.

Private enterprise, however, has led to large stores of fuel being maintained for the accommodation of passing vessels, by which King George’s Sound is becoming annually more and more frequented. Being the only harbour of refuge and coaling station to which steamers making for the open ocean from East Australian Waters can resort, and the first port of call for vessels outward bound, commanding also the regular track of a great part of the commerce of the continent, King George’s Sound has ever been regarded by naval and military authorities as a position of the utmost importance in any scheme of Australian defence. Were it securely fortified and safe from capture, hostile cruisers coming round the Leeuwin would find a descent upon the eastern capitals hazardous if not impracticable Were it, on the other hand, allowed to fall into the occupation of an enemy, the latter might do incalculable mischief to Australian shipping from such a base, and prove most difficult to dislodge. The necessity of providing, adequate protection for Princess Royal harbour has, therefore, long been urged by experts both upon the Imperial and Australian governments, and has by these been acknowledged theoretically, although no corresponding practical steps have hitherto been taken. Western Australia is at present passive in the matter. Her own interests being less concerned than those of her eastern neighbours, she is waiting for some definite agreement as to the share in the work which the latter are prepared to take. Propositions have also recently been made for the establishment at King George’s Sound of a station for federal quarantine, where all vessels arriving from the westward with disease on board should deposit their sick and be disinfected before proceeding to the centres of eastern population. The government of the colony have consented to this proposal, on the understanding that the station be placed at a safe distance from the town of Albany, and have suggested Michaelmas Island, in the outer Sound, as a suitable site. Albany is not merely of importance for its situation on the shores of the grand strategical harbour of King George’s Sound —well named the "Gate" of Western Australia, and the naval "key" of the eastern colonies. It is also a port of distribution for a large extent of pastoral and agricultural country, and supplies a majority of the farms and stations within a radius of one hundred and fifty miles. The land in the immediate neighbourhood of the town is poor and sandy, but-justly celebrated for the profusion and variety of its wild flowers, which in the season make a magnificent display.

From King George’s Sound to the Leeuwin and thence to Cape Naturaliste the coast is rocky and granitic. It is broken by numerous streams and by three lake-like inlets at the mouths of the Hay, the Forth, and the Deep Rivers. Only one of these, known as Nornalup, is accessible from the sea, and that only to vessels of light draught. Into Nornalup the Deep River, named the Gordon in its upper course, discharges waters fed by the drainage of a large extent of country. On its banks is an abundance of magnificent timber, a species of jarrah, which will probably feed the sawmills of the future. Behind the promontory which forms the celebrated Leeuwin is Flinders Bay, a fairly good anchorage, protected from the roll of the Indian, Ocean. Here lies the village of Augusta, one of the oldest of West Australian settlement, but now best known as the headquarters of Mr. M. C. Davies’ great Karri Timber Mills. At Augusta the Blackwood joins the sea, but though the most important river of the southern district, it is not available for navigation at any distance from its mouth. From the Leeuwin to Cape Naturaliste the coast presents a succession of sombre, scrub-covered hills. Thence for hundreds of miles northward it is low and sandy, with ranges in the distant background. Sheltered by Cape Naturaliste lies Geographe Bay, with its beautiful sweep of golden beach, upon which stands the settlement of Busselton, headquarters of a community chiefly devoted to timber getting and dairying in the back country, and to potato-growing in the swampy bottoms between coast and range. Thirty miles north of Busselton lies the town of Bunbury on a sandspit at the entrance to the Leschenault Inlet, the scene of an abortive attempt at colonisation in the early days of Swan River settlement. Bunbury, with a population of several hundreds, is a place of some importance, being the outlet of a district which, though thickly timbered and as yet sparsely settled, contains extensive areas of magnificent soil, and every requirement for supporting in the future a large and thriving agricultural population. The anchorage at Bunbury is indifferent, but the coasting steamers are seldom unable to approach the jetty, now the terminus of a railway to the timber ranges, which it is hoped may in time be prolonged in sections till it joins the line from Albany to Perth. Peel’s Inlet is the only break in the monotony of the low sand-hills which fringe the coast, between Bunbury and Garden Island. On the banks of the Murray, a river of some importance flowing into this backwater of the sea, Mr. Peel, one of the earliest of the first settlers,’ established himself in days gone by; and here, at the little hamlet of Pinjarrah and in its neighbourhood, a small and scattered population is still maintained, devoted primarily to pastoral pursuits, and secondarily to agriculture and to the growth of fruit of excellent quality, which ripens in great abundance on the alluvial soil. Pinjarrah is memorable in Western Australian history as the scene of the most serious of the many skirmishes which in the earlier days of settlement took place between the colonists and the blacks. The Pinjarrah tribes had committed atrocious murders on several of the few white residents in the district, in 1834, and in October of that year Sir James Stirling, the then governor, accompanied by Mr. Peel and several other colonists, headed a party of police and military which came up with the culprits in large numbers on the banks of the Murray, some ten miles from the Inlet, and there fought with and dispersed them. In this so-called "Battle of Pinjarrah" a considerable number of natives were killed, and several of the whites more or less seriously injured. The result of it was, however, that outrages and depredations on the part of the natives ceased, and that friendly relations between themselves and the settlers were eventually established.

Garden Island —low, scrub-covered, and sterile —protects Owen’s anchorage and the quiet waters of Cockburn Sound from the storms of the open sea. On Rottnest Island, some few miles to the north of it, are the native prison and the governor’s summer residence; and between the two is the passage, through which vessels heading up from the southward approach Gage’s Roads and the seaport of Fremantle. This town, the general depot of distribution for a large part of the colony, is built upon a low-lying neck of land between the rocky elevation of Arthur’s Head, with its light-house, on the one side, and some gently-rising limestone heights on the other; being hemmed in by the Swan River and by the sea. From the distance, Fremantle presents no features either striking or attractive, the only building standing out from the rest being a vast prison, placed upon a hilly background-a relic of misdirected Imperial expenditure in the convict days. Nor are hidden beauties discoverable at close, quarters. Its street architecture, somewhat dilapidated and of singular style in the older quarters, is merely commonplace in the newer; and a lately-finished town hall and Anglican Church, rising side by side, are the only buildings of really handsome appearance which the town possesses. The roadways also are macadamised with limestone, unpleasantly reflecting the glare of the summer sun; and, taken altogether, Fremantle is scarcely a locality which would be regarded by strangers, at first sight, as a desirable place of residence. Its streets, however, show signs of busy life and activity; its jetties are the scenes of brisk work and movement, while its railway workshops and station buildings are on a scale indicative of the importance of the commercial traffic carried on with the capital, the up-coast towns, and the far interior. Two timber bridges, spanning the river Swan, afford passage for the railway and road respectively, which unite the port with the twelve-mile distant city; but the journey to the latter should, by the lover of fair scenery, be made by water.

VERY beautiful are the reaches of the Swan. Narrow and rock-bound above North Fremantle, they widen with a crescent sweep round the timber-studded grass slopes of Point Walter, and open farther on into the fine expanse of Melville Water, with its low wooded shores broken to the right by the inflowing stream of the river Canning; then contract suddenly where the headland of Mount Eliza stands sentinel over a gap leading into another road, upon the slopes of which is built the city of Perth. From down the river, Perth, its gardens, villas, spires, and public buildings mirrored in the smooth waters of the Swan, with a distant background of soft blue hills, is very fair to look upon. A closer inspection of the he town, however, proves somewhat disappointing. Sir George’s Terrace is the only thoroughfare calling for comment. A mile in length, straight and broad, shaded by rows of the flowering Cape lilac, containing many handsome buildings, among them Government House, the Anglican Cathedral, the public offices, the banks and residences of the wealthier inhabitants, the terrace is a street which in time will make a grand appearance, and already lends the capital its chief attraction. Running parallel to it is Hay Street, a narrow thoroughfare in which are the Town Hall, with its lofty tower, and the principal business premises. Beyond that again is Murray Street —broad, long, and tree-planted, but adorned by few good buildings —extending from the heights of Mount Eliza to the Roman Catholic Cathedral, which overlooks the city from lofty ground, having grouped around it the bishop’s palace, the convent of the Sisters of Mercy, and the Public Hospital. The railway line cuts the town of Perth in half. On the northern side of it are macadamised roadways crossing and recrossing each other at right angles, an flanked with small villas and cottage residences.

With the sole exceptions, however, of the prison and the Government Girls’ School, all the public buildings of the city, with the chief business houses and the churches of various denominations, lie between the railway and the Swan. On the eastern outskirts of the town the ground rises, and the river sweeps round a cemetery-crowned hill from which lovely views may be obtained of dark wood and shining water, and of the distant Darling Range. Around Fremantle and Perth, between the two, and along the river banks as far as the pretty little town of Guildford, nine miles above the city, the land is sandy, with occasional patches of richer soil, alluvial deposits, and here and there some swamp ground. The country looks sterile, the timber is somewhat stunted, as a rule, and the undergrowth of scrub furnishes indifferent pasture but this sandsoil, if fairly treated, is prolific in a high degree. With the aid of moisture and of fertilisers, it grows fruit and vegetables and every imaginable product of temperate and semi-tropic climes in rare abundance. The orange, the olive, the grape, and the banana flourish in it equally with fruits of English origin, and wherever water is procurable rich and productive garden-lands may readily be formed. At Guildford, red loam and fine alluvial flats replace the sandy soil, wheat fields and rich pastures alternating with vineyards and orchards along the riverbanks. Perth, with its eight thousand inhabitants, the capital of the colony’, the seat of government, of the Supreme Court, and of the Legislature, is also the mart and source of supply for a large extent of country, ranging from the Victoria Plains on the north to the agricultural areas of the eastern districts, and south to the sheep-walks of the Williams. But Fremantle is the commercial centre of the colony, receiving produce and distributing goods from and to ports as far north as Derby in Western Kimberley, and as far south as the Vasse in Geographe Bay.

GERALDTON, two hundred miles further up the coast, as a port stands probably next at present in commercial importance to Fremantle. A well-built, prosperous town of about one thousand inhabitants, it commands the trade of a large and important pastoral, agricultural, and mineral district, drawing to itself wool bales from the Upper Murchison, and other pastoral areas, cereals from the celebrated Greenough Flats, and lead ore from Northampton. Champion Bay, or rather the district to which Geraldton serves as port, is acknowledged from the rich and varied nature of its resources to be one of the most promising portions of the vast western territory, and here capital wisely spent, particularly in pastoral enterprise, seems destined to bring large and certain profit. Following up the coast from Geraldton, the next settlement is the little town ship of Carnarvon, at the mouth of the Gascoyne. Fifty or sixty miles south west of it, in Shark’s Bay, is located a small pearler population, while on Dirk Hartog’s Island also a few settlers have established themselves, and a little trade is carried on. But Carnarvon is the only seat of a stipendiary magistracy between Champion Bay and Roebourne, and serves as a port for the Gascoyne, Lyons, and Minilya River stations. The Shark’s Bay pearling industry differs in many respects from that carried on in more northern waters. The shell is smaller and dredged off Shallow banks, no diviner being required. The pearls also are of the "seed" variety, and extracted by a curious and unpleasant process. Barrels are filled with the mussel, and this animal matter is left to rot. As it decomposes it is vigorously stirred, the pearls gradually dropping to the bottom, while an indescribable stench poisons the surrounding air. This Shark’s Bay fishery yields smaller profits than that of the ordinary mother-o’-pearl of commerce, but maintains in comfort the owners of a fairly numerous fleet of boats. Some two hundred miles to the north of Carnarvon is an indentation known as Exmouth Gulf, formerly a favourite resort of the Nor’-west pearlers. Here the coastline turns to the eastward, and before forming the harbour of Cossack, gives the waters of the Ashburton, the Robe, the Fortescue and other smaller rivers access to the Indian Ocean. Cossack, a small township of uninviting aspect, is the port of that magnificent pastoral district lying between the Ashburton and De Grey, commonly known as the " Nor’-west." It is united to Roebourne, a larger urban settlement where the government holds its’ court, by a tramway eleven miles in length. A dreary, hot, and lifeless locality under ordinary conditions, it acquires sudden, noisy, and not always most agreeable animation when the pearling fleet resorts to it, and the motley crew of natives, Malays, and Island nationalities disport themselves on shore.

Beyond the De Grey, the Ninety-mile Beach extends its monotonous sandy length intersected by that imaginary line, the nineteenth and a half parallel of latitude, which forms the southern boundary of the Kimberleys. Half way between that boundary and Derby is Roebuck Bay, the scene of an abortive attempt at settlement in the sixties. Here in a deep-water creek is a splendid anchorage for vessels, held by many to be the future outlet for the Mount Barrett goldfields, and best placed terminus for a line railway, to connect them with the coast. This idea, however, is naturally distasteful to those who have vested interests in Derby, the present port of the Fitzroy district at the head of the great gulf known locally as King Sound. The natural advantages of Derby, as a shipping place are not conspicuous. The rise and fall of tide are phenomenal, and do not conduce to security of navigation. A jetty has been built, however, with a causeway bridging a wide stretch of marsh which at low water divides it from firm land, and alongside this jetty steamers find fair accommodation. At the Amur Pool, also, under the lee of Mary Island, is good anchorage. Derby lies at a greater distance from the present scene of gold-mining operations than Wyndham in Cambridge Gulf, but the western road being easy to travel, is in the summer time preferred to the eastern for heavy-loads. In the wet season, however, when the rivers are down it is said to be impassable. The existence and trade of Derby do not depend upon the goldfields alone, for there all the stations formed on the magnificent flats of the Fitzroy, Meda, and Lennard Valleys find their most convenient outlet, and even were the Mount Barrett traffic entirely diverted from the western route, Derby, would still have before it a fairly prosperous and important future. From King Sound to Cambridge Gulf the coast presents a series of deep indentations, among them being Collier Bay, Camden Sound, Prince Regent’s Inlet, York Sound, Admiralty Gulf, and Vansittart Bay. Of these localities, offering apparently more or less convenient shelter for the shipping of the future, little is at present known, nor is there settlement as yet in the neighbourhood of ally of them. Cambridge Gulf, on the other hand, is the site of a mushroom town which has sprung up since the recent rush for the Mount Barrett Goldfields. This place, where are the quarters of the government resident of East Kimberley and his police staff, besides several inns, stores, and private residences, built of wood and iron, is on the western arm of the Gulf, at the foot of the Bastion Hills. It occupies a situation of much natural beauty, and with splendid accommodation for the ships which, even of large size, lie close beside the shore.

The distance from Wyndham to the goldfields is variously calculated at between two hundred and fifty and three hundred miles. The road is rough but well watered, and with the expenditure of a modest sum of money could easily be rendered passable throughout for an), kind of traffic. At the head of the eastern arm of Cambridge Gulf the Ord River finds its outlet. On this river and its branches, and on other streams flowing into the Gulf, large stations are now forming, and the pastoral prospects of the district of which Wyndham is the port equal the mineral in the abundance of their promise. Trade is chiefly with Port Darwin, though regular communication is kept up also with the southern settlements. But the commercial and other relations of the Kimberleys are developing much more rapidly in the direction of Port Darwin, Sydney, and Melbourne than in that of Fremantle and other trade centres of the colony to which politically they are attached.

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