For three weeks Kennedy struggled on, cutting his path through the scrub, and, with dwindling strength, clambering across the spurs of the range.  For the story of his struggles and eventual death Australia has had to rely on the report of the only survivor, the faithful Jacky-Jacky.  They reached Shelburne Bay, where one of the men accidentally shot himself, and became so weak from loss of blood that it was impossible for him to move.  As another man, Luff, was sick, Kennedy left the third man, Dunn, to attend to his two comrades, and pushed on alone with the native boy.  He had actually gained the Escape River, within sight of Albany Island, when his fate overtook him, and, surrounded by the blood-thirsty foes who had so long and persistently hung upon his footsteps, he fell at last beneath their spears.

The story is best told in Jacky’s own words, although it has been often repeated.  They had come across some natives whom Kennedy was inclined to trust, but of whom Jacky was suspicious, and that night they camped in the scrub, foodless and fireless.

“I and Mr. Kennedy,” said Jacky, “watched them that night, taking it in turns every hour that night.  By and by I saw the blackfellows.  It was a moonlight night, and I walked up to Mr. Kennedy and said:  ’There is plenty of blackfellows now;’ this was in the middle of the night.  Mr. Kennedy told me to get my gun ready.

“The blacks did not know where we slept, as we did not make a fire.  We both sat up all night.  After this daylight came and I fetched the horses and saddled them.  Then we went a good way up the river, and then we sat down a little while, and then we saw three blackfellows coming along our track, and then they saw us, and one ran back, as hard as he could run, and fetched up plenty more, like a flock of sheep almost.  I told Mr. Kennedy to put the saddles on the horses and go on, and the blacks came up and they followed us all day.  All along it was raining.  I now told him to leave the horses and come on without them, that horses made too much track.  Mr. Kennedy was too weak, and would not leave the horses.  We went on this day until the evening; raining hard and the blacks followed us all day, some behind, some planted before.  In fact, blackfellows all round following us.  Now we went into a little bit of scrub, and I told Mr. Kennedy to look behind always.  Sometimes he would do so, and sometimes he would not do so to look out for the blacks.  Then a good many blackfellows came behind in the scrub and threw plenty of spears, and hit Mr. Kennedy in the back first.  Mr. Kennedy said to me:  ’Oh Jacky!  Jacky! shoot ’em! shoot ’em!’ then I pulled out my gun and fired and hit one fellow all over the face with buck-shot.  He tumbled down and got up again and again, and wheeled right round, and two blacks picked him up and carried him away.  They went a little way and came back again, throwing spears all round, more than they did before —­ very large spears.