LOST IN THE BUSH*

Chapter 1.
A REMARKABLE STORY of a Bury St. Edmund's man whose family migrated from Rougham to Australia 80 years ago**, one of whom became lost in the Bush, underwent terrible agonies and eventually became the Chief of a black tribe, is told by Mr. Ernest Olle, of Redcot, 57 Linton Road, Hastings, who describes himself as "an interested reader of the 'Free Press', especially 'Behind the Scenes' and the reminiscences of 50 years ago in the Bury St. Edmund's." Here is the story as related by Mr. Olle.
In the year 1856 Francis Olle, of Rougham sailed for Australia with his four sons and one daughter, and his second wife., Mary Ann Durrant, his first wife of Hannah Eales of Soham, having died about 1853.. On January 19th, 1857, they landed at Port Fairy, Victoria, and started their journey through the bush with waggons and stock to start farming at Branxholme.
The story is concerned with the amazing adventures which beset the eldest son William Joseph, who, during the journey, rode into the virgin bush, searching for strayed stock. Nightfall found him lost. William Joseph camped for the night, using his saddle for a pillow. Before morning his horse escaped and left him stranded.. He remained on the spot for a period, hoping that searchers might pick him up, after which he tried to find a way out, only to become hopelessly lost.. Unable to find water, he relieved his thirst by licking the dew from the leaves of the trees. However, this source of relief eventually failed due to the climactic conditions, and his only food consisted of roots and the bark of trees. He rapidly became weaker until he finally collapsed in the bed of a dry creek.

Here he was found by a tribe of natives, and as the spot where he was found was close to a mound known as a "Blackfella's Oven" , or burial ground, the tribe believed that he was one of their chiefs come back to life and crawled out of the mound, as William was still unconsciously scrapping in the earth for water. To use their expression he was a "dead blackfella jump up white fella". They adopted him as their Chief and nursed him back to to health by feeding him on their native foods consisting of yams dug out of the ground, raw and roast possums, snake, kangaroo and eels when available. Water ceased to become a problem, as the natives knew where to find it.
Meanwhile William's parents, after waiting some days, reluctantly gave him up as dead, knowing that anyone who is lost in the bush must perish for want of water. It is understood that they lost one of their waggons by fire while they waited..
It took William some considerable time to pick up the blacks' language. Eventually by signs and a few words of their lingo, he was able to make them understand he wished to find the place where his parents had camped, and, becoming Chief, they back-tracked at his command, although they had travelled far since picking him up. The blacks found the spot, where William's parents had waited, and he, noting the remains of the burnt out waggon and pieces of iron laying about, concluded his people had been attacked and killed by another band of blacks.

For nearly two years William travelled with the blacks through the bush. His clothes worn out, were replaced by skins. With long hair and beard, his skin tanned black by the sun, he appeared to be a wild man, but a giant compared to the small blacks. They showed him their secret water holes, taught him how to hunt and catch birds and animals, and "initiated" him into their rites and rituals "Koroboree", and he learned things never before disclosed to a white man.

During his travels in the bush with the tribe, they came across a large lake upon which were hundreds of wild duck, when William was shown an ingenious method by which these are caught by the blacks, but which required much patience.. Some of the men entered the water "down-wind" with "cages" over their heads and faces, made from sticks and leaves, and, having waded out sufficiently far for the water to reach their chins, they began the slow process of working their way towards the ducks. The greatest care had to be observed in approach. Should the birds notice the "floating tufts" moving to fast or suspiciously, they would at once take wing. Such, however, is the cleverness of he blacks that they could work their way to the outskirts of the flock, when a duck would be seized by its legs and quietly be pulled under the water, and its neck wrung. In this way the hunters gathered a dozen or more. These were baked with their feathers on, first wrapping them in a clay mould. When cooked the clay is broken off when the feathers come away with the "mould" or shell.

Eventually the band worked its way out of the bush to a small town in order to trade skins for salt, and William thought he would try to "trade" for some gunpowder so that he could use his gun again.

Looking up at a sign-board over a store, he saw the name "Olle" (a note in the margin:" Could be Madigan's". However, the present building was built c:a 1860). Upon asking the storekeeper whether he ever had any relations in England, the reply was "Yes, my father sailed back to England, as he did not care for Australia, but my brothers stayed on.

Ed.: The picture shows Madigan's store in Penshurst, now private residence. It was formerly known as Olle's store, but we do not have any proof, whether this is the same store as in this chapter. The building is marked 1860, while the event took place in 1859.

The next question "The Black Chief" asked was, "Did you have a brother named William?" "Oh yes," was the reply, "but he died in the bush long ago". "No", said the "Black", "he did not die. I am your brother William." Needless to say, there was much joy and excitement. Neither had recognised each other before he conversation.

A cable was despatched to England to the father saying "William is found." Back came the reply, "Send him to England at once."

After the visit to his father at Rougham, William returned to Australia, married, and of his family, a son named Harry called at Bury St. Eds. in August 1935 to enquire about other branches of the family, and was much surprised to meet his uncle. James Olle, aged over 80, whom he had never before seen.

Harry informed the writer that his father William was held in such high estimation by the bushmen that they called him "The Black Protector", because being able to talk their lingo like a native, they brought their disputes to him for judgment and were always satisfied with his decision.

In the "Free Press" in 1860, appeared the following verses composed by William "the black Chief", whilst lost in the bush:

In the lonely scrub on the wild bush track,

In the murky night when the sky was black,

And no light, save the watch fire alone

The weary traveller made his bed

And in the saddle pillowed his head:

Save his horse and his dog, alone.

....

In fitful gusts the chilling wind

Swept through the trees as if to find

Whereon to vent his ire

The clouds began to spit forth rain

The dingoes howled as if in pain,

Till sleepless the traveller rose agin

And fed the waning fire.

....

And, ah, he sighed for the dear old spot

And the loving ones well nigh forgot.

"Farewell to the days of yore,

Farewell to the ones that pressed my hand

On the day I left my native land,

Farewell for evermore."

And his heart half scared by the blighting world

Swelled as if it would burst.

And wild thoughts whirl'd in his throbbing brain

As he thought of the dear old farm at home

Where in childhood's days he used to roam

And he heeded not wind nor rain

....

Talk to him who ate the husks that the swine did eat,

"I'll return," he cried, "to my home so sweet

And my kindred again behold,

So long to be parted is sad for me

To them I am sure it must also be

For their hearts can never grow cold"

....

Thro' the dark drear night by the fire he sat.

Unheeding the the wind nor knew he was wet,

For sweet fancies now kept him warm

And blissful thoughts made the hours briefly fly

Till his glad eyes gazed at the eastern sky

And welcomed a glorious morn.

This man wih such a remarkable story was apparently born at Bury St. Edmunds May 23rd, 1837, and died in Australia on January 23rd, 1882, at the age of 44. His eldest son Harry, in a latter to Hastings to the writer dated November 16th, 1936, and penned in South Yarra, Victoria, sends facts concerning his father's experiences when lost in the bush and adds:

"I remember, when a boy, the remnant of a tribe who lived about a mile from our home who regularly came to us for food. The men would do a little work such as cleaning up around the house and perhaps a little stock-riding when kept under supervision, otherwise they would sneak away to their gunyahs and sleep off the effects of a big meal. They were a lazy race, likewise very cunning, but at the same time they showed a great affection for my father and called on him to adjust any troubles that arose in the tribe.

"One lubra, named Black Mary, came to the house every Friday and cleaned boots, whitewashed the fireplaces and nursed the baby, crooning to it in her native tongue. On one occasion her man gave her a severe beating and poor Mary came to my mother for protection and treatment of her damaged face. Two days later Mary's blackfellow came to claim his lubra. As mother was alone, there being no men about at the time, he became very threatening, when mother refused to let him have his lubra. She closed the back door, took a stock's whip off the rack, tiptoed out through the front and proceeded to apply the whipping so rightly deserved. A few days later he complained to father, saying, "Your white Mary keepem my black Mary no givem me". He was told to go and tell "white Mary" that he was very sorry and would be a good blackfellow in the future and harmony was restored!

"On another occasion a very heavy rainstorm occurred when about twenty blacks appeared and formed a semi-circle around the house with their faces to the storm and dashed water from the pools with their hands against the wind commanding the rain to stop and leave the boss's gunyah alone. This was another illustration of their loyalty and affection.

"These incidents happened over sixty years ago and today there is not a solitary black left in the district. The nearest are in camps formed and controlled by the Government, about one hundred miles away. Of course there are a few thousand in their wild state in Central and Northern Australia, but I am afraid as the white man pushes further inland their numbers will diminish rapidly and in a few years their existence will be a memory only."

The writer of this narrative, Mr. E. Olle, served with the Bury Co. of S. African Volunteers 1900-1 and has been a regular attendant at the re-union dinners for some 30 years and is looking forward to meeting at Bury in 1941 for the 40th anniversary. He has the unique experience having served in the Army, Navy, Air Force and Volunteers 13 years. He is a brother of Councillor R.A.C. Olle, Bury's Coronation Mayor. He encloses the family tree, which took him some years to assemble from the Rougham and Bury church registers. This shows that their grandfather was William Olle, and it was his brother Francis their great uncle who emigrated. Mr. Olle supplied a copy of this chart to Harry Olle upon his visit to England. Harry calls Mr. James Olle his uncle.. If this is correct, then the William Jnr who was lost in the Bush, was uncle to Councillor R.A.C. Olle and the writer of the article. The family is traced back to 1717, when James Olle was buried at Rougham, though it is significant that in 1629 a Peter Olle was buried at St. James' Church, Bury. There are about 70 descendants in Australia and approximately 35 in England.

Comment: We can not explain the discordance between the Jan. 1939 reprint date, and the year 1941 referred to in the actual article.

This is the last chapter in our only remaining serial, i.e. we would be grateful for short or long stories relating to Mt. Rouse & District. Photography (digital) and editing resources are available, and any pictorial material will be returned within less than a week.