# Life and Adventures of William Buckley/Chapter I

LIFE OF WILLIAM BUCKLEY.
CHAPTER I.
"Poor is the friendless Master of a World."
I was born in the year 1780, at Macclesfield, in the County of Cheshire, England. My parents were humble people, who honestly provided for the support of themselves, and a family of two girls and two boys, by cultivating a small farm in that neighbourhood. What has become of my brother and sisters, is not known to me; ​but a short time since I heard the former was still living at Middlewitch, also a town in Cheshire, and celebrated for its salt works.
The wandering, extraordinary life I have led, has naturally obliterated from my memory, many of the earlier scenes of my childhood; but few presenting themselves before me occasionally at this period, and those only as a dream. The following are however still vivid to my mind.
I remember, that from some circumstance or other, I was adopted by my mother's father, and that I was sent by him to an evening school, where I was taught to read; and that when about fifteen years of age, I was apprenticed by the same good old man to a Mr. Robert Wyatt, a Bricklayer, residing in that neighbourhood, to be taught the art and mystery of building houses for other people to live in—it being my fate, as will presently be seen, during thirty-two years, to inhabit dwellings of a very different description, having for their roofs only the wide spread of Heaven. Having been removed in the first instance from the immediate charge of my parents, I was, I suppose, not so strictly treated by the old people as I should have been, as a boy, and hence the restraints imposed upon me by my master, and his very proper endeavours to make me useful and industrious, were considered hardships and punishments, unnecessarily and improperly inflicted. This feeling, in time, completely unsettled me, and my uncontrolled discontent mastering my boyish reason, when I was about ​nineteen, I determined to enlist as a soldier, and to win glorious laurels in the battle-field, taking my chances of becoming either a corporal, or a colonel,—I cared not which; neither did I very well understand the difference between the two positions, or the career of dangers, trials, and sufferings, upon which I was entering.
Acting upon these impulses, I enlisted in the Cheshire Militia, receiving ten guineas as a bounty, which sum I thought would prove inexhaustible; but, at the end of about a year, I took another bounty, having volunteered into the Fourth, or King's own Regiment of Foot, then laying at Horsham Barracks. The Regiment was commanded by a Lieutenant-Colonel Dixon, a very excellent officer, and in about six weeks after joining, we were ordered to embark for Holland, where His Royal Highness the Duke of York, at the head of the British army, was endeavouring to sustain himself against the French Republican forces. My Regiment was in the division commanded by the late Lieutenant-General the Earl of Chatham.
It is not the purpose of this narrative, to refer particularly to that period of my life, neither shall I attempt to give the details of the campaigns in Holland: suffice it to say, that in a battle fought in that country, our regiment suffered heavily, and that I was wounded, rather severely, in the right hand. Almost immediately after this action, the Fourth, with other corps, embarked for England, and were landed at Chatham, where we lay some time. Here I received another bounty for ​extended service, having now been about four years a soldier, and by attention to my duty, and general steadiness of conduct, having acquired the good opinion of my officers. Perhaps my unusual height, six feet five, may also have predisposed them in my favour. It would have been well had I continued in the same line of rectitude, but my imperfect education, and early feelings of discontent returning upon me, I unfortunately became associated with several men of bad character in the Regiment, who gradually acquired an influence over my conduct, which very soon led me into scenes of irregularity, and riotous dissipation. At length, after a six weeks' furlough, during which I visited my friends in Cheshire, I was apprehended, as being implicated with those men in an offence which rendered me liable to punishment. The consequence was, that I was tried at Chatham, and found guilty, but as the laws were strangely administered in those days, where soldiers and sailors were concerned, I do not know to this hour the precise character, or extent of my sentence.
This may appear strange, but the reader will remember, that transportation, as a punishment on any regular or fixed system, had then scarcely been thought of, and, that soldiers and sailors were dealt with more at the pleasure of the Chief Military, and Naval Authorities, than by Judges or Justices, many of whom considered the army and navy outside the pale of their protection. With this sentence, whatever it was, ceased my connection with my family, and I have never since heard of either, or any of them, excepting as I have ​already said, that my brother was supposed, a short time since, to be still living at Middlewitch.
My fortune had now changed. I was a prisoner, working at the new fortifications being thrown up for the defence of Woolwich. In about six months, however, a new light broke out over my unhappy existence, and an opportunity was afforded me of ultimately retrieving my character, and acquiring freedom: this was by the determination of the British Government to found a penal settlement at Port Phillip, on the south-eastern coast of New Holland; that part known as New South Wales being the only portion of the Continent then occupied. Being a mechanic, I, with others, was selected and placed on board His Majesty's ship Calcutta, Captain Woodriff. Lieutenant-Colonel Collins, of the Royal Marines, was appointed Governor, and he accompanied the expedition, having with him in the same ship, several officers and a detachment of his corps, as a guard over the prisoners during the voyage, and after their landing. The treatment I received on the passage was very good, and, as I endeavoured to make myself useful on board, I was permitted to be the greater part of my time on deck, assisting the crew in working the ship. In justice to the officers placed over us, I must say, the treatment all the prisoners received at their hands, was as far from suffering, as could be expected, at a time when prison discipline was generally carried out by coercion, and the lash and the rope were, in too many instances, considered too good for all who had been convicted. To amend ​and reclaim, to bring back to society, and to administer hope and consolation, were, in those days, considered the encouragement of mutiny, and hence, to be permitted to live without additional sentences, and summary punishments, was looked upon,—as mercy.
At length our voyage was at an end, and the Calcutta came to an anchor within the Heads, at about two miles from what is now known as Point Lonsdale.
The Natives call that place Koonan, which means eels, that fish being in great abundance in almost all the streams running into Port Phillip. The particular locality had been chosen as the scite of a penal station, it being six hundred miles from the nearest settlement, Sydney, and the chances of escape offered to the prisoner being, therefore, very few. In a short time the Marines and convicts landed, and encamped. A distinction was made between the mechanics and the rest of the prisoner people, the former being permitted to hut themselves outside the line of sentinels, whilst the labourers were placed under a more careful controul. This was necessary, as the lime-burners, brickmakers, and sawyers, were compelled to work in all directions, and at a distance from the encampment. A magazine and a store-house were the first public buildings commenced, and at the former I had been employed about three months, when I determined on endeavouring to make my escape, and to get, if possible, to Sydney. The attempt was little short of madness, for there was before me the chances of being retaken, and probable death, or other dreadful punishment; or again, ​starvation in an unknown country inhabited by savages; with whose language and habits, I was totally unacquainted, besides the dangers innumerable which the reader may in part imagine, but which no man can describe—no, not even myself; although, by the merciful providence of God, I surmounted them all.
These perils and difficulties are now passed; they were then staring me in the face; but possessed of great personal strength, a good constitution, and having known what might be done by courageous men when combating for life and liberty, I determined on braving everything, and, if possible, making my escape. Perhaps my unsettled nature in a great measure induced this, and, that my impatience of every kind of restraint, also led to the resolution. However this may be, four of us agreed to take to the bush, as absconding is called, and being allowed the use of a gun for killing kangaroo and opossums, we made up our minds to start the first dark night, taking it with us, and as much provisions as we could muster.
The opportunity soon offered and we left, as we hoped, unobserved; we however were not so fortunate, for one of the sentinels challenged, and receiving no answer, immediately fired, shooting the last man of the four of us, as I thought, dead; at least, I never after saw, nor heard of him. After running the greater part of the first three or four hours, to make our escape the more certain, we halted for rest and refreshment. We were now fairly launched on our perilous voyage, and it became necessary to reflect on our position, and to examine our ​resources. The latter consisted of sundry tin pots, an iron kettle, the fowling-piece already mentioned, and a few days' rations. We now pushed on again until we came to a river, and near the bay; this stream the natives call Darkee Barwin: here we rested until daylight, and then prepared to renew our march. Early in the morning, a large party, or tribe of the natives, was seen, armed with spears; and, thinking to alarm them by so unusual a sound, I fired the piece, on hearing which, they retired hurriedly into the bush. I should here observe, that we had now very little apprehension of being retaken, believing the opinion of Governor Collins to be, that any prisoner attempting to escape, would gladly deliver himself up, rather than perish of hunger; besides, we had, by the rapid rate at which we had travelled during the night, placed a considerable distance between us and the encampment. Light marching order being very desirable, when starting on our first day's march, we resolved on parting company with the iron kettle, as a useless article, and therefore threw it into the scrub, where it was found, thirty-two years after, by a party of men clearing ground for agricultural purposes.
Our next business was to cross the river, but as all of us could not swim, I passed first to try its depth, and after considerable difficulty succeeded in getting my companions over, and then I swam over again for their clothes, being the best swimmer of the party. That night we reached to about twenty miles distant from what is now the City of Melbourne, and halted there ​until the morning, when we crossed the Yarra River; and, after passing over extensive plains, reached the Yawang Hills, where we finished the last particle of bread and meat that we had, not having divided our rations properly, and taken the precautions necessary to avoid starvation. Here we remained the night; the next morning, I told my companions that we must make for the beach to look for food, or death was certain. They agreed with this suggestion, and after a long and weary march we again made the shore of the bay, and finding a few shell fish, with them appeased our hunger. At a place the natives call Kooraioo, in an extensive bay, we were so fortunate as to find a well of fresh water, and here we remained the night:—the following day continuing our course along the beach gathering shell fish, until we reached a place called Woodela, signifying rock. Here we again rested, if rest it might be called, suffering as we were from the want of the absolute necessaries of life: the fish although preserving it, affecting us all very severely. The next day our route was the same, and as we saw several native huts in our journey, we were hourly expecting to fall in with one of the tribes, hunting or fishing on that part of the coast. Another day's travel brought us to a little island, called Barwal, which we could reach at low water, and here we halted several days to recover our strength, which was by this time greatly exhausted. We found about this place a sort of gum, which, when placed over a fire became soft, and palatable; on this, and fish, we subsisted. From ​Barwal, we could see the Calcutta at anchor on the opposite side of the bay. The perils we had already encountered damped the ardour of my companions, and it was anxiously wished by them that they could rejoin her, so we set about making signals, by lighting fires at night, and hoisting our shirts on trees and poles by day. At length a boat was seen to leave the ship and come in our direction, and although the dread of punishment was naturally great, yet the fear of starvation exceeded it, and they anxiously waited her arrival to deliver themselves up, indulging anticipations of being, after all the sufferings they had undergone, forgiven by the Governor. These expectations of relief were however delusive, when about half way across the bay, the boat returned, and all hope vanished. We remained in the same place, and living in the same way, six more days, signalizing all the time, but without success, so that my companions seeing no probable relief, gave themselves up to despair, and lamented bitterly their helpless situation.
At the end of the next day they determined on retracing their steps round the head of the bay, and if possible, rejoining their companions at the encampment. To all their advice, and entreaties to accompany them, I turned a deaf ear, being determined to endure every kind of suffering rather than again surrender my liberty. After some time we separated, going in different directions. When I had parted from my companions, although I had preferred doing so, I was overwhelmed with the various feelings which oppressed me: it would be vain to attempt describing my sensations. I thought of the ​friends of my youth, the scenes of my boyhood, and early manhood, of the slavery of my punishment, of the liberty I had panted for, and which, although now, realized, after a fashion, made the heart sick, even at its enjoyment. I remember, I was here subjected to the most severe mental sufferings for several hours, and then pursued my solitary journey.
How I could have deceived myself into a belief of ever reaching Sydney, and particularly by travelling in that direction, is to me astonishing; and even if I had found it possible to do so, of course I should, on my arrival there, have been confined as a runaway, and punished accordingly. The whole affair, was, in fact, a species of madness.
During my first day's lonely march, I saw, at a distance, about a hundred natives, in and about some huts built of bark, and boughs of trees, and others of the Tribe making toward me. Being greatly, alarmed, I took to the river, and swam across it with my clothes on, and in so doing extinguished my fire-stick, so that I was deprived of the means to cook my food. This was a sad loss, not only as respected the way of making what I could obtain to eat, palatable, but of preserving my health, under the great privations to which I was subjected. I was glad however to observe the natives retiring from the bank of the river to their huts, instead of following me as I expected, and, with this consolation, when I had made my way to the, beach, I laid myself down to sleep in the thick scrub, covering myself over with leaves, rushes, and broken boughs. It was a ​miserable night, my clothes being wet, and the weather cold, it being the early part of the spring of the year. At daylight, I endeavoured to ascertain if the natives were moving, as their huts and fires were within sight, and finding them not astir, I left my uncomfortable lodging, and took again to the beach.
As it was low tide, I found a considerable supply of the shell fish before mentioned, which the natives call Kooderoo; it is the same as the English describe as mutton fish. Its shape is something like that of the oyster, but it is tougher, and larger, and consequently not so digestable. The shell is inlaid with what appears to be mother of pearl. These fish I was now obliged to eat raw, and having no fresh water I suffered exceedingly from thirst until the evening, when I reached the river Kaaraf, a stream of considerable width and depth, I there laid myself down for the night. It was one, far worse than the last, for I had taken off my clothes and hung them up in the trees to dry, covering myself with the long grass as my only shelter from the weather. The next day, I forded the Kaaraf, and having left it and taken to the bush, I suffered dreadfully during the day from thirst, having nothing to allay it but the dew from the boughs which I collected with my hands in passing. Even this supply was very uncertain, on account of the strong breezes which prevailed during the nights.
Continuing my course along the beach, I reached the Doorangwar River, where I took up my quarters in my usual manner, having the sky for my canopy, and the ​earthy scrub for my resting-place. I did so this night with increased anxiety, having seen several deserted native huts in my day's march, by which I concluded they were somewhere in the neighbourhood; on this account I had avoided going into the bush as much as possible, although compelled occasionally to leave the beach, in order to ford the rivers I had met with on my journey.
The following day I came to a stream the natives call Kuarka Dorla, without having seen any living creature excepting birds, and a few wild dogs; the latter fled at my approach, but their dismal howlings, and especially during the night, added to the solitary wretchedness of my situation. Although so very short a time had elapsed since I commenced my gloomy pilgrimage, I began to find, the weather, as I thought, warmer—as if I had travelled into another climate. This increased my thirst, and the consequent distress, which I could in no way alleviate, the streams I crossed being, even at low water, all brackish from the flow of the tide water. Added to this, my only food being shell fish, I suffered much, so exceedingly indeed, that almost regardless of life, I lay myself down for the night in a state of total exhaustion. With the morning's light, however, I pursued my journey, but this day I was more unfortunate than the one preceding, for I could not find a single fish, or particle of any other kind of food or water, and in great pain and misery that day ended. The following was one which I anticipated would be my last, for I could scarcely move my limbs along, and the stages I made, were in consequence, ​very short. At length I came to two rocks nearly close to each other on the beach; weary and tired, foot sore and nearly heart broken, I laid myself down between them. I had not been there long, when the tide came in so rapidly, that I found it necessary to climb some way up one of them, and remain there until it had receded. The descent was a work of difficulty, having now been three days without a particle of food or drop of fresh water: however, I resolved on making another effort to hobble along the beach, and at length came to the Mangowak, another salt water stream which I forded. I found the natives had been burning the bush about this place, so I carefully examined it hoping to find some remains of fire; and, at length to my great joy, discovered a tree still smoking, and by this means again provided myself with a fire-stick. For a time, however, this was useless, as I had no kind of eatables to cook, and was still without fresh water. At length I discovered a high shrub bearing a kind of berry, many of which I knocked down; but not knowing what effect they might have upon me, I ate of them very sparingly. These berries I found very refreshing, and soon after I was so fortunate as to discover a native well near the bank of the stream, and close to the beach, in which there was excellent water—of which I drank abundantly. The Almighty indeed, appeared that day to favour me—especially, as I thought, in pity to my sufferings, for I found also a great supply of shell fish: so that I had now food, and fire, and water.
I should have mentioned, that when I parted ​company with my companions, one of them took with him the gun I spoke of, as having been brought with us from the encampment; indeed, I must here state, that if I omit to place any very precise details, in their particular order, I hope to be excused; because, so many years' wanderings must have impaired my recollection—except as to the more prominent and material incidents of my life.
At this spot I remained more than a week, perhaps it may have been two or three, for I seem henceforward to have lost all record of time, except by the return of the seasons, and the rising and setting sun. With such luxurious living, for one in my situation, I soon recovered my strength, and be assured, I did not fail to offer up fervent prayers of thankfulness to the God who had hitherto sustained me, and for his support under the other trials and sufferings, to which I might be subjected. At this place it rained very heavily during a whole day and night; being the first that had fallen since my wanderings commenced, but I found a cavern near the beach, and in it I sheltered myself very comfortably. At length, being sufficiently recovered, I resolved on resuming my journey, and by keeping along the beach, found abundance of fish, but very little fresh water—the streams being all salt, or brackish.