The camp was awakened by a yell from Billy, and jumping up, we found spears flying all directions. Nobody had their guns handy, and before a shot could be fired the blacks had all found cover in the scrub. George Young … had rushed to Billy who was lying on his back, trying to pull a six foot barbed spear from his stomach, while every pull showed the wound to be a terrible one.

“Rip the damned thing out”, screamed Billy.  Well some of us tried but you know what those big barbs are, nearly two inches across and wrapped on with Kangaroo gut about four inches from the notched point.  Anyhow it was driven hard in, and we couldn’t shift it; finally we cut it off about three inches from his stomach.  Then we held a consultation and decided to make a big attempt to get it out and start with Billy for Coolgardie.  Two hundred miles!

Before noon Billy was raving with pain. “Pull the blarsted thing out, boys, you all know what the dirty raw Kangaroo gut will do, if it stops there, let alone the wood”; then piteously, “have a go at it, boys, Kill or cure quickly”.

George pulled out his bowie knife and sharpened it resolutely on a granite boulder.  Billy was watching his performance with a relieved and grateful expression.  George pulled on the spear until the barb made a huge bulge, then taking the knife, “by the great External”, “it’s no use, I couldn’t , no, not for all the gold in Westralia”, and George with something akin to a sob, turned away while poor Billy dropped back senseless.

“Look here boys”, said Billy Watt, “it’s a terrible wound, and you can understand that even if the spear head is got out that we can mend or even successfully treat such a hurt.  Let’s start with him at once”.

Within two hours four men started with Billy, and such a journey.  The poor fellow stood it like a hero, although the torture must have been terrible.  We got to the Ninety mile the following night.  During the last ten miles, Billy got easier and the pain almost ceased before we pulled up at the camp.  “It’s all right, boys”, said Billy, “ just give me a nip of brandy, and then have your own tea.  I know we won’t have to go any further.

N.K. Sligo. Mates and Gold, Hesperian Press, Carlisle, Western Australia, 1995
 

RETURN