The Lovestruck Explorer's Deadly Guessing Game

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This cautionary tale was inspired by a suggestion from a loyal listener. Thank you, JP. I hope you enjoy the episode. Robert O'Hara Burke calls out the name of the man he'd left in charge of the camp at Cooper's Creek. Koo-ui! Brrr!

Dusk is falling. Burke and his two surviving colleagues recognize their surroundings. The camp is close. They've traveled 30 miles that day,

“clinging weirdly to the backs of their two surviving camels,”

but just as exhausted as they are. Brrr! It's been over four months since they saw Brrr and the other man they left at Cooper's Creek. In that time, they've tracked two thousand miles to the northern coast of Australia and back again.

They're the first white man ever to cross the country.

Glory and fame await when they get back to Melbourne. Still nearly another thousand miles away. But now they'll have support, more men, fresh camels and horses and food and goodness. Been on half rations for weeks. But where's Brrr?

Pattern? Looked on her? No response from anyone. Admittedly, Burke had assured them he'd be back at the camp in three months, not four.

“They might by now have assumed he was lost or had taken a different route back to Melbourne.”

But he'd asked them to stay at Cooper's Creek for as long as their supplies lasted. And their supplies should have been replenished long ago. Brrr! Pattern? McDonald? They can't be far away.

They've probably just gone to water the camels and the horses. They'll be back any moment.

Then, Burke's second-in-command sees the dates carved into the Kubartry.

December, six, sixty. April, twenty-one, sixty-one. The sixth of December, 1860, that was when they established this camp four and a half months ago. So, the other date must be when Brrr, her abandoned the camp. The 21st of April, 1861, that's today.

They abandoned the camp, today. Brrr! The ashes in the campfire are still warm. Other letters carved into the tree. D-I-G, three F-T, N-W.

Dig. Three feet to the northwest. They dig.

Loosely buried under Cameldung and third is a trunk.

In the trunk is a bottle and in the bottle a note. It's signed by William Brrr. Depot, Cooper's Creek 21st of April, 1861. The depot party leaves this camp today. But why?

For medical attention it seems. Patton is unable to walk. His leg has been severely hurt. But where are the others? Where's the third group of Burke's expedition?

The ones he left at the last outpost of civilization on the Darling River. Who were going to follow up to Cooper's Creek with all the other supplies. Where are they? No person has been up here from the Darling. So the depot party supplies haven't been replenished.

And Brrr, her will have had to take much of what remained for his journey back. Burke and his two companions look again in the buried chest. They've been left some flour, sugar, tea and dried meat.

But at least they can eat tonight.

They eat. They rest. They discuss their predicament.

“And then they make a catastrophically bad decision.”

I'm Tim Harford, and you're listening to caution retails. [music] Robert O'Hara Burke sits in the front row of the theatre. He was there last night. He'll be there tomorrow night too.

Burke is Irish, a former soldier. Seven years ago, he moved to the newly established British crown colony of Victoria. Australia wasn't yet a country with states. Burke became superintendent of police in a fast growing gold rush town. Seventy miles from Victoria's capital, Melbourne.

He spends his time chasing horse thieves or quelling trouble from workers on the railway who are disgruntled with their boss.

“What sort of man was Robert O'Hara Burke, apart from, as it seemed, a theatre lover?”

He was untidy, says one account. He dressed like a peasant and dribbled saliva down his bushy black beard. But he came from a well-connected family. He spoke several languages. And he was quite at ease in the poshist social circles the young colony had to offer.

He was a dare devil, eccentric. He might find him galloping his horse madly through swamps and forests. Or reading police reports in a bath tub in his yard, wearing nothing but his helmet. He bore grudges. Burke fell out with a magistrate, whose particular bugbear happened to be people swinging on his front gate.

Burke could ride 30 miles, just to swing on that gate. And theatre lover? Not exactly.

“Burke could fall and head over heels for a young actress.”

She sang and starred in burlesks and pantomimes. Roles like Cupid, the mischievous god of love.

When she played in nearby towns, Burke always found and excused to gallop over.

It claimed there was a promising lead on a gang of horse thieves. When he really just wanted an excuse to watch Julia Matthews. I don't think I'm ugly. I'm only just 20. I know I shouldn't make a most excellent way.

That girls all around me have lovers in plenty. But I'm not a sweet, hard can get from my life. Julia was not, in fact, only just 20. She was still a teenager. Burke was pushing 40.

Julia must have been disconcerted that a man twice her age was stalking her from town to town. Gazing adoringly up from a front row seat, dribbling saliva. Burke proposed marriage. Julia said no. But Burke wasn't discouraged.

He bought a piano and hired a teacher to teach him the songs Julia sang. Hower after hour he practiced. With blankets draped around the piano so he didn't wake the neighbors baby. In Melbourne, meanwhile, the freshly minted royal society of Victoria was planning an expedition.

From their city in the south to the northern coast, it had never been done before.

Ships had sailed round Australia and explorers from various coastal cities were venturing further inland. But the centre, on a map, remained a ghastly blank. What was there? Just desert.

Could they map a route for a telegraph wire to speed up communication with Europe?

“Might they find land that was good for pasture?”

Or more cold? The society had raised the money for the expedition but couldn't agree on who should lead it. Ideally that higher an experienced explorer, but no one was available. Or no one from Victoria, the experienced explorers were all from other British colonies elsewhere in Australia. Rivalry was strong.

It was a matter of pride to the royal society of Victoria that someone from Victoria should cross the country first.

They advertised the post and got some unconvincing applicants. One proposed to solve the problem of crossing the desert by stretching out a very long hose pipe from the last known river. Then a major thunder of the project, a railway magnet, suggested someone he'd got to know. Irish, former officer, now a police chief, very effective at quelling trouble from disgruntled workers. A manly character with determined energy.

eccentric, yes, but from a very good family, Robert O'Hara Burke. Some who knew Burke were astonished at the idea of him crossing Australia. He was the worst bushman I ever met, said one.

Another added, he could not tell the north from the south in broad daylight.

Burke himself needed no persuading. If I come out successful, I have no doubt that the Julia will accept my offer of marriage. In August 1860, the expedition prepared for departure in a park in Melbourne. It consisted of 19 men, 23 horses, 27 camels, and 21 tons of baggage. Burke watched it all being piled on wagons and animals backs with mounting alarm.

It somehow lost control of what was being packed. What are we going to do with all this?

“Who, for instance, decided they'd need 12 sets of dandruff brushes in the outback?”

They were taking an oak dining table and a gong from China and a boat about on wheels,

so it was also a wagon but a boat nonetheless. They might need one if they encountered an inland sea. Before they set off, Burke had one thing he needed to do. It had a photograph taken and made into a miniature portrait, which he now placed in a locket. He went to see Julia Matthews.

And again, asked her to marry him. This time, the teenage actress didn't reject the proposal out of hand. Burke might be 21 years her senior, but if he succeeded, it'd be the most famous man in the land. Why is perhaps to keep her options open? Julia said she'd consider his proposal on his return.

For now, she accepted the locket. Poor Shring Tails will be back after the break. Run a business and not thinking about podcasting? Think again. More Americans listen to podcasts than add supported streaming music from Spotify and Pandora. And as the number one podcaster, iHearts twice as large as the next two combined.

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Hi, I'm PJ Vote. My podcast search engine has a new two-part series for you. Of all the new technologies coming out of AI, the most transformative one might be driverless cars. They're already on the road in 10 American cities, and they're quickly coming to more. We tell the story of how we got here.

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and we cover the fights brewing in blue cities, where unions and politicians are working to keep those cars off the street. Listen to search engine wherever you get your podcasts. Robert O'Hara Burke was trying to cross Australia from Melbourne, Victoria, in the south to the unmapped north.

About a quarterway up, a few hundred miles north of Melbourne was the last outpost of civilisation.

“A tiny settlement on the Darling River, a few houses, a pub, and general store.”

From there, Burke would press on a few hundred miles more to Cooper's Creek, almost halfway up the country. The furthest point mapped by any explorer. At Cooper's Creek, he'd establish a camp and a depot. He'd secure his lines of communication back to the outpost on the Darling, and then hit set forth into uncharted territory. A thousand or so miles remaining to a gulf in the north.

That was the plan anyway, but then they'd accumulated 21 tons of baggage. What are we going to do with all this?

“As it happened, Burke's despairing question had a sensible answer for the first leg of the journey at least.”

That outpost on the Darling River was served by a paddle steamer. Burke could have shipped most of his supplies up the river and travelled light with the horses and camels that arrived fresh and ready for the push to Cooper's Creek. That would be sensible? Why not do that? Alas, Burke had fallen out with the owner of the steamboat company. He insisted on hauling everything overland instead.

That was his first catastrophic decision if you don't count taking the job in the first place.

The journey from Melbourne to the Darling could be done in 10 days by a messenger on horseback. It took Burke's expedition 56 days.

“In that time of the 19 manhood set out, Burke had lost 11.”

Either he fired them or argued with them to lay quit. He hired five more along the way and lost three of them too. He hired more wagons to help with the baggage that ruin his expense. He kept breaking down as Burke complained in messages to Melbourne. The roads are very bad. He wrote so many checks for wagon repairs, the Royal Society of Victoria's bank account ran dry and the checks began to bounce.

Burke finally decided he'd have to dump some supplies. In a small town, he held a public auction.

Among the stuff he got rid of was their lime juice, which helps prevent scurvy as we heard about it another cautionary tale when lime is get scurvy. Scurvy creeps up on you with lack of vitamin C. It starts with aching gums, then slowly rot your body. Burke really shouldn't have ditched the lime juice. As the expedition started on, news reached Melbourne that another explorer from another crown colony was also setting off with the aim of crossing the country first. Members of the Royal Society of Victoria's exploration committee hand anxious letters.

My dearest Burke, I will now to a certain extent the race. I know how exciting this must be to you. The honor of Victoria is in your hands. Oh and the committee were rather alarmed at finding the expense greater than the anticipated. Burke tried a shortcut to make up time. The wagons sank so deep in sand they had to be dug out with shovels. The horse has got so exhausted, it simply stopped.

After 56 days, Burke and what remained of his expedition staggered towards the handful of houses on the Darling River. They had completed barely a quarter of their outward journey and it should have been the easiest part through land that was already colonized. As they arrived, they watched the pub and general store unload a new shipment of stock from a paddle steamer. At the outpost on the Darling River, Burke assessed his options.

He had fired his second in command so he needed to promote someone.

He chose an earnest young Englishman called William Wills. Wills' mum hadn't wanted him to go on this expedition, but as he wrote her,

Unlike Burke, Wills was a scientist, a train surveyor.

“It was his job to find their way with a compass and by observing the stars at night and to keep me to a logical observations.”

Wills had quite enjoyed the journey so far. Riding on the camels is much more pleasant than I anticipated. I sit on the back portion behind the hump and pack the instruments in front. I can thus ride on, keeping my journal and making calculations. My now, it was late in spring.

The summer heat would soon make it dangerous to travel further north. It would be sensible to wait a few months and resume their travels in autumn. Sensible, thought, Burke was in a race. He decided to split the party up. He'd take the fittest men, horses and camels, and a few months worth of food,

and press on to Cooper's Creek. In charge of the others, he left a man hit met in the pub. Food managed to local sheep station and seemed to know what he was doing. Burke sent a letter to Melbourne to explain.

I informed him that I should consider him third officer of the expedition,

subject to the approval of the committee. In the meantime, I have instructed him to follow me up with the remainder of the camels to Cooper's Creek.

“But was the man from the pub expected to wait for the committee's approval before he followed up to Cooper's Creek?”

Burke's instructions, and last were unclear. When I've talked about civilisation, I've been using cloak marks. On the colonial maps, the centre of Australia might have looked like a ghastly blank, but it was of course home to ancient civilisations of its own. Near Cooper's Creek lived four main groups of Aboriginal people.

They moved around to find food and water, but they knew who's land was who's.

And when you visited others land, they were conventions to follow.

Much as I might knock on your door and wait to be invited in. Burke and Willes neither knew nor cared about these conventions. They simply marched straight up to the watering holes with their horses and camels. The Aboriginal people didn't know what to make of these white fellas. They tried to be friendly.

Willes was having none of it. A large tribe of blacks came pestering us to go to their camp and have a dance, which we declined. They were very troublesome, and nothing but the threat to shoot will keep them away. The desert heat was stifling. Willes, the mummeter, showed a hundred and nine.

But they found Cooper's Creek to be teeming with life, fish and birds and trees. They're also rats and flies and the ski toes. On the 6th of December, 1860, they set up their camp. Like the jolly swag man of song, under the shade of a cumulabar tree.

“Remember what Burke was supposed to do at Cooper's Creek is establish a depot.”

Secure his lines of communication back to that outpost on the darling. And, only then, explore the uncharted territory to the north. It would have been sensible to wait for the man from the pub to arrive with the rest of the supplies. But Burke was sure he'd be along soon. Anyway, there was a race on.

Burke split his party again. He'd push for the northern coast with wheels and two others. In charge of the depot, he left a quiet but capable young German William Brahher. Burke told Brahher that'd be back in three months. He was taking only three months worth of food after all.

And if Burke wasn't back in three months, Well, he might have found a route to another settlement in another colony. There'd also been vague talk of a ship being sent to meet him at the gulf in the north he hoped to reach. With the man from the pub would have come with more supplies by then, so Brahher could stay at Cooper's Creek anyway, whatever.

It'd be fine. You must not fret. I shall be back in a short time. Corsion details will also be back in a short time.

Think again.

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I Heart's twice as large as the next two combined. So whatever your customers listen to, they'll hear your message. Plus, only I Heart can extend your message to audiences across broadcast radio. Think podcasting can help your business? Think I Heart.

Streaming, radio, and podcasting. Call 844-844-I Heart to get started. That's 844-844-I Heart. Hi, I'm PJ Vote. My podcast search engine has a new two-part series for you. Of all the new technologies coming out of AI,

the most transformative one might be driverless cars. They're already on the road in 10 American cities and they're quickly coming to more.

We tell the story of how we got here.

“The secret team at Google has spent 15 years building what might be the safest vehicle on the road”

and we cover the fights brewing in blue cities, where unions and politicians are working to keep those cars off the streets. Listen to search engine wherever you get your podcasts. In his 1960 book, The Strategy of Conflict, the game theorist Thomas Schelling,

asked us to imagine a couple who lose each other in the department store. It's 1960s, so they can't just call, but the chance is a good, so Schelling, but they'll find each other. They'll each think of some obvious place to meet that will obviously be obvious to the other. Schelling calls this a coordination game. Can you coordinate if you can't communicate?

You win the game if you give the same answer as the other player. The question he says is, "Not what would I do if I were she, but what would I do if I were she, wondering what she would do if she were I, wondering what I would do if I were she?"

“The trick is to look for what Schelling calls a focal point in the situation.”

Different places in the department store will seem obvious to different couples. But we can play coordination games with strangers too. Schelling asked people to imagine there'd been told to meet someone in New York, but not a time or location, where might they try. In an age when most people arrived by train, many gave Schelling the same answer.

By the famous clock at Grand Central Terminal at noon. How do you play the coordination game? Logic helps, says Schelling, but usually not until imagination has selected some clue to work on, from among the concrete details of the situation.

The problem comes when you're so confident in your own answer, you don't bother to look for a backup plan. In Cooper's Creek, in April 1861, William Brahar wanders how long it's reasonable to keep waiting for, but wheels and their two companions have been gone for over four months.

Maybe they're dead. Maybe they're on a ship back to Melbourne. He has no way to communicate with them.

The man from the pub never arrived.

Patting the shirt is leg and cardboard, but more worryingly, his gums are bleeding too. Wait much longer, and they risk never making it back to civilisation at all. They decide to leave on the morning of April 21st. Brahar writes a letter,

just in case Brahar eventually makes it back. He puts the letter in a bottle and the bottle in a chest, with as much food as he can spare. He buries the chest. How will Berg know it's there?

The focal point for coordination seems obvious. The culibar tree, in the shade of which they made their camp, he calves instructions into the tree. Dig, three feet northwest. He adds the date and abandons the camp.

That evening, Berg wills and one more man, John King, stagger into the camp. The fourth man died. And the three were so weak. It took a whole day to dig his grave.

If they hadn't buried him, that had been back at Cooper's Creek the day earlier. They try not to think about that. Berg wills and King assess their options. Should they follow Brahar back along the track

towards the outpost on the Darling River?

I'd never make it.

“But if a search party comes, it would be from that direction.”

Berg has another idea.

The incomplete maps of Australia show another tiny outpost

only 150 miles away along Cooper's Creek. It's called Mount Hopeless. The food from the chest might just be enough for that shorter journey. Berg writes a letter outlining his plans. We proceed on tomorrow slowly down the creek towards Mount Hopeless.

We are very weak. We have all suffered much from hunger. Greatly disappointed at finding the party here. Gone. We shall move.

Very slowly down the creek.

He puts the letter in a bottle, puts the bottle in the chest and buries it in the same place. The three men briefly discuss whether they should also add a mark to the tree. They decide not to bother. As King lay to explain.

We thought the word "deg" would answer our purpose as well as those. Obviously, if a search party came to the camp,

“let's see the word "deg" and dig up the chest wouldn't they?”

Berg wills and King spread dung over the chest, so it doesn't look like the ground has been disturbed. They don't want the locals to steal it. They leave the abandoned camp, looking almost exactly as they found it. Just 90 miles south of Cooper's Creek,

William Braha bumps into the man from the pub, William Wright. So he is making his way from the darling to Cooper's Creek, just months later than expected. Wright's instructions, remember, were unclear. He'd explained to Braha that he'd assumed he should wait for the Royal Society of Victoria to approve his appointment.

Berg's checks had been bouncing.

“He didn't want to set off until he got explicit assurance that he'd be paid.”

In Melbourne, the Society's Committee assumed there was no rush to confirm Wright's appointment, because he would have set off already. When Wright eventually did set off, his journey was slow because some of his men were suffering from scurvy. Braha and Wright agreed there was no longer any point in lugging the rest of the supplies to Cooper's Creek. They should all now return to the darling.

But they shared a nagging worry. What if Berg had made it back? The ill men could use a few days' rest. Braha and Wright decided to ride together quickly back to Cooper's Creek just to check. At Cooper's Creek, Braha and Wright see no sign that Berg's been there.

The camp looks just like we left it. Braha tells Wright, "Don't bother to dig up the chest." Obviously if Berg could put a message there, he would mark the tree. Berg wills and king, moving very slowly down the creek, as their note had said. They were just a day's ride away when Braha and Wright didn't read that note.

The task of reaching Mount hopeless was looking hopeless. The Russians are rapidly diminishing, or clothing, especially the boots are all going to pieces. Kamal is completely done up and can scarcely get along, as opposed this will end in our having to live like the blacks for a few months. But they couldn't live like Aboriginal people. They didn't have the skills to catch fish, or over 60,000 years' worth of accumulated know-how on how to extract nourishment from the local plants.

The Aboriginal people tried to be kind, bringing gifts of food, but fired his revolver to scare them away. King recalled,

"He was afraid of being too friendly, unless they should always be in our camp."

Berg got his wish. They were left alone to slowly starve. My legs and arms are nearly skinned and burned. Berg had learned one noble lesson, at least. He told King,

Wright and Braha made it back to the outpost on the darling, and sent news to Melbourne.

“Berg was missing. The newspapers were aghast.”

The Royal Society of Victoria organised a search party, and this time found a proper explorer to lead it. They were asked to take a letter with them from Julia Matthews. My dear sir, I dare say you almost forget me, but if you scrape your various reminiscences of the past, you will recollect the laughing and joyous et cetera. You pid all the citizens in Melbourne,

join in love to you, bless your little heart.

The search party eventually found a white man, living with a Yandroanda tribe, not far from Cooper's Creek. Who in the name of Wanda are you?

“I am King, sir. I have bugs exploring expedition.”

Where is he and wills? Dear, both dear, long ago. After Burke and Wills expired, John King had understood that only friendliness could save him.

The news of Burke's death reached Melbourne, and the news from King that they actually had made it to the north,

not quite as far as the ocean, but to impenetrable mangroves where the water was salty and moved with the tide. Close enough, and the news they might have made it home. If only brother had stayed one day longer. Burke was a hero, a tragic fallen hero.

“As the city mourned, the young woman went to a newspaper to place an ad in the lost and found column.”

Lost in the botanical gardens yesterday afternoon, a gold bracelet with carbuncle in center and miniature. The finder will be hand-sumply rewarded. The newspaper reported the story behind the ad. The miniature portrait lost by Julia Matthews was of none other than Robert O'Hara Burke. Yes, this star of the stage was the fallen hero's sweetheart.

Pat Julia really lost Burke's gift or had she spied an opportunity for publicity. If it was a stunt, it was cynically brilliant. Robert O'Hara Burke made one catastrophic era after another. He overpacked, he ditched the lime juice, he gave unclear instructions. He didn't plan for contingences, and he failed to appreciate that aboriginal people had skills he lacked.

Yet he still might have been saved. If he had played a better game, of what would I do if I were he, wondering what would he do if he were I. To brahe and write, marking the tree was so obvious that they didn't bother to check the chest. To Burke and Will's, checking the chest was so obvious that they didn't bother to mark the tree. Playing the coordination game says Thomas Schelling, takes both logic and imagination.

Burke and Will's were undone by a failure of both. For a full list of our sources, see the show notes at TimHalford.com. Corsion details is written by me, TimHalford, with Andrew Wright, Alice Fines and Ryan Dilly. It's produced by George Mills and Marilyn Rust. The sound design and original music are the work of Pascal Wise.

Additional sound design by Carlos San Juan, at Brain Audio and Dam Jackson.

Messiah Monroe, Jamal Westman and Rufus Wright.

“The show also wouldn't have been possible without the work of Jacob Weisberg, Greta Cone, Eric Sandler, Carrey Brody,”

Christina Sullivan, Keira Posey and Owen Miller.

Corsion details is a production of Pushkin Industries.

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