Ellis Campbell

At Esk in eighteen-ninety-three the local people saw
a legend's tale created by the fickle whim of Thor.
A sultry sun beamed humidly, portending vague unrest -
the listless birds in languid trees sat perched with head on breast.
Lethargic stock lay panting from the heat in scanty shade;
persistent flies in thousands droned and launched a fierce tirade.

The black clouds rolled in ftiry. scowling from a fuming sky;
the tree-tops wavered in the wind - a curlew wailed its cry.
The lightning rent the Heavens while the thunder boomed its wrath,
the water courses gurgled with a swirl of foaming froth.
All night the drumming rain streamed down - a never ending roar -
till creeks and gullies burst their banks as never seen before.

The second of two mighty floods - and just two weeks apart
brought damage quite horrific as they watched with sinking heart.
For miles the muddy water spread - a turgid, surging stain,
dislodging logs and hapless trees to swirl in frenzied chain.
And daylight brought no yearned response from storm clouds' sullen frown;
relentlessly from leaden skies the rain kept tumbling down.

Alarm began to spread at Esk that February day -
this was no ordinary flood that swept so much away.
“Caboonbah” Station manager, one Henry Somerset,
became concerned about the flood that hadn't peaked as yet.
He realised that Brisbane faced disaster very soon
all unaware a crisis loomed before tomorrow's noon.

The lines were down at Esk by then, compounding Henry's fears;
the old hands claimed they'd never seen such floods in all their years.
By chance “Dalgangal” stockman, Bill Mateer, was there that day
and volunteered to swim the flood and try to find a way.
Then Henry said to Bill Mateer - a stockman of renown,
“You ride to warn the Brisbane folk that floods are coming down.

“You̓ll have to go to North Pine, mate, to get a message through;
it's close on forty miles, I think - the job is up to you.
You take the big bay Lunatic and Oracle as well;
the going will be pretty rough - your horse will need a spell.”
And Billy did not question him, or pause for more discourse -
that Friday at Caboonbah yards he strode to catch a horse.

A sodden dreary morning - just a little after eight -
when Billy mounted Lunatic outside the stockyard gate.
And leading Oracle he rode into the driving sleet
while Somerset prepared the boat for this amazing feat.
Avoiding Stanley River's might they took the combined one,
and led both horses from the boat - a plan that came undone.

While Lunatic swum staunchly on to go where he was led
the chestnut Oracle took fright, escaped and quickly fled.
Despite the constant hazard's threat they reached the other side
and Billy mounted Lunatic to start his famous ride.
The big bay's shoulder quivered from confusion and the rain
he ground the bit between his teeth and shook his heavy mane.

He swung into a gallop with a free and easy bound -
his hard hooves floundered often on the heavy, spongy ground.
Far from ancestors' coppiced woods and fields of yellowed gorse
brave Lunatic confirmed the worth of English Hunting Horse.
His game ears pricked he ploughed ahead, to slip and slide again -
with snorting breath and thudding heart he braved the daunting rain.

The gallant rider stared ahead and held a steady rein -
to guide his sturdy mount with care across the rough terrain.
They reached the first of many creeks - a vast expanse of foam
that lashed defenceless trees and banks - destroying precious loam.
Game Lunatic just snorted once, then heard his rider speak;
he plunged into the swirling foam of flooded Reedy Creek.

And Billy rode as bushmen will to help his gallant horse -
prepared to swim behind his mount to lessen current's force.
Courageous rider and his steed defied the torrent's might
to safely reach the other side and keep a hope alight.
Then up toward Mount Pleasant's peak the plucky bay climbed through
the ragged rocks and wombat holes where heavy timber grew.

He floundered on with heaving sides and nothing much to change
this rugged course until he topped the steep D'Aguilar Range.
But Lunatic forged strongly on and never changed his course,
while Billy stroked the rangy neck to calm his gallant horse.
They reached the peak and Billy reined the great steed to a stop -
five minutes blow he'd surely earned while he was on the top.

For sliding down the other side was daunting still - and slow -
an injury might well occur on loosened rocks below.
While Billy looked around the scrub that decked the range's dome
brave Lunatic stood panting there, his huge chest flecked with foam.
A word from Bill and he stepped forth to brave that daunting scope;
his iron shed hooves struck sparks from rocks that slithered down the slope.

By rider's skill and horse's pluck they tamed the steep terrain
where joyous frogs in marshy swamps croaked out their blithe refrain.
Across the sodden countryside the big bay Lunatic
kept to a steady gallop, though the scrub was sometimes thick.
Each flooded creek he gamely crossed, despite the current's drag -
the water soaked Mateer's old strides, his boots and saddlebag.

And onward still the mighty heart of Lunatic beat true,
through miles of boggy pasture land where stunted suckers grew
he floundered to another creek, responding to the reins;
a credit to the “Kelpic” blood that surged his pulsing veins
Though growing tired he forged ahead with loping strides that count,
and Bill Mateer alone there knew the courage of his mount.

Beside the winding North Pine river many miles he rode;
though treacherous in many parts the big bay rarely slowed.
Then veering right across the hills toward the North Pine goal
with thudding heart the gallant steed assayed each grassy knoll.
 Instincts of man and beast combined to beat the fearsome odds,
a bushman and courageous horse against the weather gods.

At last the town appeared to Bill - a welcome sight indeed.
Great Lunatic had proved to all the mettle of his breed.
His lathered sides were heaving and he breathed in gasping snorts;
his fetlocks bruised and bleeding from the logs and vicious quartz.
The sweat oozed from his foam-flecked flanks to drip upon the ground
as open mouthed the local folk in wonder grouped around.

Then to the railway station Billy raced past startled staff -
to issue his grim warning by electric telegraph.
His efforts surely helped to save both property and life
and justified to everyone brave Billy's pain and strife.
A century - and more - of years have passed since Billy's ride -
but still his exploits are relayed with pioneering pride.

Foresight of Henry Somerset and pluck of Bill Mateer
are now eclipsed by mists of time and facts not always clear.
Apart from his concerned forethought the artful boating skills
of Somerset were vital - as the record now instills.
Perhaps his wisdom, too, was sound when Henry chose to pick
that gallant stockman Billy and the great horse Lunatic.

Based on the true story of Billy Mateer's famous ride. William Mateer was a stockrnan on “Dalgangal” Station, near Eidsvold, Queensland. He rode from “Caboonbah” Station, near the junction of the Brisbane and Stanley Rivers, in February 1893, to North Pine (now Petrie) to warn Brisbane of the impending floods. All forms of communication were out of order due to the cyclone. As the poem relates he overcame some formidable obstacles to complete the journey.

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