The first chapter of this volume introduced the notion of the frontier as both geographical area and process, discussing the latter with respect to current archaeological and geographical models of colonisation and adaptation. Despite variations, most of these approaches incorporate elements such as information collection, environmental perception, cultural filters, positive and negative feedback through experimentation, and other learning processes. These learning processes contributed to the three basic categories of information which Rockman (2003:4) identifies as necessary for a colonising group: locational (location & characteristics of resources), limitational (cost and seasonal availability of recourses) and social (attribution of meanings to, or transformation of, environment). These contributed to the ‘push’ and ‘pull’ factors and decisions encouraging colonisation or making it unattractive.

As noted in Chapter One, Cameron's (1981) research on environmental factors and decision–making in the European settlement of Western Australia includes the period when the colonists first decided to engage in shore whaling. Undertaken as a study in historical geography, Cameron proposed that the settlers of the Swan River colony and its associated settlements (including Albany) had engaged in a process of differential learning about the environment, which they applied through agricultural and other land uses. A particularly relevant portion of Cameron's (1977, 1981) argument is his contention that the speed at which outcomes from particular learning and action sequences became available was a major determinant in the shift by Western Australian colonists from agricultural to pastoral production. Agriculture was seasonal, requiring six months or more before success or failure could be judged, and potentially many more years before the causes behind either could be determined. Even allowing that the success of certain staple crops was essential to achieve a stable subsistence base, the slow feedback loop, combined with the economic difficulties, land regulations and other factors described in Chapter Two, saw a shift in focus to non–agricultural concerns during the mid–1830s. Cameron (1981:152) suggests that while the raising of sheep was also seasonal, with the critical periods being shearing and lambing:

In short, the increased rate of feedback on decisions and actions allowed faster learning and responses to environmental conditions. In addition to this, sheep and cattle could be easily moved within and between areas either to avoid hazards or exploit more favourable circumstances. This is not to say that the development of agriculture was set aside, or that pastoralism was immediately successful. It was not until the mid–1840s that either could be seen as achieving moderate success, with sheep emerging as the major export income provider.

While Cameron does not consider the role of shore whaling within his development sequence, the historical evidence of the emergence of the industry in Western Australia fits it neatly within his scheme. On one level the enthusiastic co–operation of diverse interests in the initial establishment of the colonial whaling industry during the mid–1830s can be seen as an attempt to tap into a flourishing international market and a means of raising much–needed liquid capital for the colony. On another level, while whaling had been promoted as a potential industry even prior to the settlement of the Swan River, its execution represented a significant departure from the original agricultural aims and efforts of the colonists. As noted above, while agriculture was never abandoned, the re–direction of capital, labour and enthusiasm towards whaling may be seen as a temporary conceptual retreat from the difficulties of adapting to the alien terrestrial environment, and a return to familiar marine resources.

As a conservative response to the utilisation of unfamiliar resources, the European colonisation of Australia is not unlike the 'coastal colonisation' paradigm which has been employed by some prehistorians (Bowdler 1977). Both groups colonised by sea, progressively occupied coastal areas, eventually moved inland along the river systems and finally populated the intervening areas. Despite obvious differences in the nature, style and rate of colonisation, both populations shared an initial attachment to the sea. During the 1830s, after the failure of their original agricultural ambitions (yet before the emergence of successful pastoral interests), the European colonists of Western Australia looked back to the sea as the environment most familiar location with respect to their points of origin. Unlike the land they had occupied, the resources of the sea were well known and readily visible.

Cameron's feedback loop would provide further support for shore whaling having been used as a retreat mechanism by the colonists. The nature of the industry is such that, unlike agriculture or pastoralism, the outcome of whaling required no lengthy waiting period before its short–term effectiveness could be measured. Despite the resource being somewhat capricious and 114difficult to understand (i.e. its limitational aspect), success or failure was almost immediate and could be readily measured in terms of barrels of oil at the end of the day. Because of this immediacy, the process also had an undeniable positive psychological effect upon the small non–Aboriginal population, who observed the spectacle with a high level of satisfaction. Even the partial success of shore whaling, when seen in the context of the limited local economic and social environments, provided an important bridge between the late 1830s and mid–1840s, and the successful development of stable pastoral and agricultural interests.

It is easy to dismiss the long–term economic significance of shore whaling by examining only the records of production and exports from the Swan River colony where, after the mid–1840s, whale products provided a limited proportion of the export revenues. However, in the context of the smaller settlements, whaling remained a significant component of the local economies until the 1870s. The fisheries supplemented the seasonal round of agricultural and pastoral pursuits, and in a broader perspective the presence of the foreign whalers provided a market for produce which simply would not have otherwise existed. In particular, the periodic resurgences of whaling may be seen as one of a series of activities including sandalwood gathering, gum and Zamia wool collection (the fiber from the butt of the Zamia palm which was used to fill pillows and mattresses), which all recurred, despite prevailing market values, during times of recession (Erikson 1974). The evidence provided in Chapter Three also shows that the industry supplied a regular and significant local demand for whale products, obviating or reducing the need for imports.

Another factor in the continuance of whaling into a period where it provided only marginal economic returns was that over the 44 years of the industry's existence it had become a well–entrenched part of the local scene, providing social value to the activity and the resource. Even if whaling was no longer vital to the well–being of the settlements, there are indications that there had developed a 'culture' of whaling, where it was a normal part of the seasonal round for at least some of the population. By the end of the industry there were second and even third–generation participants, as well as the continued involvement of men who had developed other, more significant interests. The most notable of these was John Bateman (Jnr), who, despite owning and operating a large and successful import and export company, apparently continued to act in the dangerous capacity of chief headsman for his whaling parties into his late 50s. John Thomas must have been a similar age by his retirement in the late 1860s.

The role of the foreign pelagic whaling fleets in the failure of the Western Australian shore fisheries to expand into a major industry cannot be overestimated. While the American whaleships provided the technology, skilled labour and intelligence on suitable locations which allowed the settlers to make their second (and to some extent even their first) attempts to establish a colonial fishery, the sheer number of these vessels provided a formidable degree of direct and indirect competition. The scale of foreign whaling activity had seriously depleted the stocks of coastally accessible right and humpback whales by as early as the mid–1840s, just about the time in which the colonial parties had begun to re–appear and the international oil market recovered. The decreased coastal whale populations effectively limited any opportunity for the less experienced colonial parties to generate sufficient profit to attract British investors, finance expansion of the shore stations, or develop the industry into the more lucrative pelagic industry. Despite the colonists' attempts to exert territorial prerogatives, American whalers were to remain a continual presence along the coast until the 1870s, with periodic resurgences of activity possibly in response to real or perceived recoveries of the whale stocks.

The further consequence of the foreign whaling presence was the instability which it created in the composition and skill levels of the colonial parties. Visiting foreign whalers were frequently in need of new crewmen to replace injured or deserted sailors. Members of the colonial fisheries, particularly those who had originally been deserters from whaleships, were often attracted onto these vessels by the offer of higher lays and the opportunity to leave the colony. The lack of off–season employment also encouraged skilled whalers to engage with passing American vessels.

THE MARITIME INDUSTRIAL FRONTIER AND THE EXPANSION OF SETTLEMENT

The relationship between whaling and the general expansion of European settlement on both the west and south coasts was not a particular concern of this study, although some comment might be made here. It has already been pointed out that colonial whaling, as a commercial activity, contributed to the survival of the smaller settlements, while the presence of foreign whalers provided a market for their produce. On the south coast the establishment of whaling stations generally preceded the pastoral settlement of the hinterland, with the fisheries often being established in the best harbours in each region. However, there appears to have been little direct relationship between the two activities, aside from some indications that whalers and pastoralists may have engaged in agreements associated with supply. On the west coast the appearance of whaling stations occurred as a function of the establishment of new settlements. They were often owned or operated by local settlers, although this changed over time with the emergence of the larger merchant owners. On both coasts the expansion of coastal trade networks to new settlements allowed movement into new areas.

115In other parts of the world the activities of whalers have been clearly associated with the European exploration and colonisation of new regions, especially the Pacific, with some writers recognising a distinct ‘whaling frontier’ (Henderson 1975; Gibson & Whitehead 1993: x). The foreign pelagic whalers were acknowledged as making significant contributions to the early settlers' knowledge of the Western Australian coast and environment, including the locational aspects of the whale resource (Rockman 2003:4). There is no specific evidence that the colonial shore whalers made similar contributions, although they probably provided fellow colonists with information on the coasts, harbours, and hinterland areas they may have observed. This would have been particularly true on the more sparsely explored and less occupied south coast.

The spread and operation of the shore whalers corresponds closely to the notion of a maritime industrial frontier, featuring impermanent and/or short–term settlements of a specialised and resource focused nature, with limited concern or engagement with the surrounding environment, but a close link to wider economic fluctuations (Hardesty 1985:214; McNiven 2001:178). The seasonal whaling camps certainly fit the first criterion of being short–term and economically specialised, with no indication of any economic activities other than whaling occurring at the stations. Even Cheyne Beach, which may have had a lengthy occupation by the Thomas family, was abandoned after the closure of the station without transforming into a permanent settlement.

As part of the core–periphery relationship the raw materials of whale oil and bone were sent through the trade networks for sale on the London market, with a lesser amount retained for national (in this case Western Australian) consumption. Relative success of the industry, rather than of individual stations, was dependent upon the current market prices for oil and bone which were themselves affected by the totality of global whaling activity. The whaling industry and especially the American pelagic fleet as the main operator were sensitive to a wide range of natural and civil disasters, wars and other factors which affected production and therefore flowed through to influence the value of the Australian production. By the mid–1860s the shift to mineral oils, changing women’s fashions reducing the need for whalebone, as well as the invention of plastics, also reduced market demand.

Despite its international aspect, the nature and intensity of Western Australian whaling also reflected local and national economic and social conditions. Hardesty’s (1985) characterization of industrial frontier settlements such as mining camps is suggestive of at least semi–permanent (year–round) occupations, surviving for at least several years before the resource was exhausted, then resulting in either abandonment or change in resource focus. In contrast, most of the Western Australian whaling stations, with the possible exception of Cheyne Beach, were only seasonal camps closely associated with the coastal agricultural and pastoral settlements and offering a form of supplementary income, particularly during marginal periods. However, the other general features of the cosmopolitan frontier still apply however. The short occupation appears to have discouraged indigenous developments, with even the atypical settlement at Cheyne Beach showing minimal response to the environment with its reliance on domesticated animals for food. It can be supposed that the more typical stations and particularly the later short–term occupations of sites would have encouraged reliance upon salted or prepared foods.

Hardesty (1985) proposes that standardisation is a feature of industrial frontiers, with groups attempting to use the same technologies and adaptive solutions despite environmental differences. When innovations were produced, the connection between the industrial settlements and the regional/national system produced almost simultaneous changes throughout the industrial frontier. Both the west and south coast whaling parties in Western Australia seem to have followed the same series of adaptations, decreasing in size, reducing capital expenditure and fixed works, and later increasing their mobility and using multiple stations as the limitational aspects of whaling became apparent (Rockman 2003:4). As part of the international whaling tradition, the colonial fisheries could receive innovations in whaling technology almost immediately through their contact with American vessels. Whether innovations such as gun harpoons were immediately implemented (and consistently used) to replace the older forms is another question. Apart from harpoons and lances, the actual process of whaling carried on internationally appears to have undergone little change throughout the study period. It was only after the 1880s that the new, mechanised forms of chasing, killing and processing revolutionised the industry.

Another feature of the industrial frontier is the ecology of resource patch use, abandonment and possible re–use. In essence, the resource at a particular place will be used until its value or yield drops below the average for other patches in the area. Hardesty (1985:216) suggests that the rate of movement among patches is dependent upon

Changes in transport methods, costs, or particularly in the efficiency of exploitation through innovations in techniques or technology may make a previously abandoned or unprofitable patch worth re–occupation, or encourage continued occupation of a patch currently being worked.

Although this model is normally applied to fixed resources of a renewable or non–renewable nature, it 116may provide some insight into some aspects of site use and abandonment evident in the progress of the shore whaling industry. The success of the shore whaling industry hinged primarily on the exploitation of two migratory whale species, the right and humpback whales, as they passed along the south and west coasts. Although we can presume that through an extended period of personal observation and collection of intelligence from other sources the shore whalers built up a fairly good picture of the migratory patterns of right and humpback whales, we do not know how these men understood or interpreted this information in ways that influenced decisions to change stations. For instance, which factors were associated with a change in location?

a. Perceived inadequacies in the nature of the station site, including its distance from Albany, versus the superiority of another site?

b. Real or perceived patterns of behaviour on the part of the whales, using or not using particular bays, or even learning to avoid particular bays after several seasons of shore whaling (in essence, the resource at that spot becoming 'exhausted')?

c. General reduction in whale stocks resulting in fewer whales visiting the less favourable bays?

There are other factors which might be mentioned, although the core of the question is: why were some bays abandoned for over 20 years, overlooked and then re–occupied later? The answer may well be the major innovation of the colonial whalers, the split season. Sites which had presumably been abandoned because the resource (migrating whales) had fallen below marginal value could be re–occupied for shorter periods at the peak of the migration through that point. Rather than wait for the normal decline in numbers as the increasingly reduced population of whales passed by, the party would then move to another position as much as several hundred kilometres away either to exploit the same migratory group, or attempt to catch the migration of a different species which might not have passed the first station. As suggested earlier, in the case of the Western Australian shore whalers the actual impetus to innovate and the cyclic pattern of the industry is as likely to have been the result of local economics as it was due to the effects of international market trends.

WHALING AS INDUSTRIAL PROCESS

The Western Australian shore whalers were clearly part of the tradition of shore and pelagic whaling that emerged during the late 18th and early 19th centuries. The constant flow of men and equipment through the medium of visiting American whaleships ensured that the colonial whaling parties employed the same terminology and techniques and rapidly received the latest technologies. However, the documentary and archaeological records demonstrate that the economic and social conditions of the colonies, together with increasing familiarity with environmental conditions and the nature of the resource, combined to encourage the development of several distinctive strategies in the operation of the Western Australian industry, or more properly industries. The growth of two parallel but almost completely unrelated shore whaling industries on the south and west coasts underscores the physical, economic and social separation between the two main Western Australian settlements through their first several decades. It also provides useful comparisons and insights into the responses of both groups.

Chapters Two to Four have shown that in their initial conception of a whaling industry the colonists, particularly on the west coast, attempted to form large, elaborately organised companies and stations presumably emulating the sorts of operations known from other parts of Australasia and elsewhere. The initial failure to make returns on investments (resulting from inexperience, mismanagement and lack of resources) combined with the advent of a recession to produce a rapid demise of the first several stations. The re–emergence of the industry in the 1840s was on a different basis, with smaller parties of two boats on the south coast and three boats on the west coast, often employing only the minimum crew to run the fishery. Ownership was now based on much smaller groups of investors, sometimes individuals, with an eventual dominance by merchants or other persons with vested maritime interests. Government control on the lease of stations also discouraged expenditure on fixed improvements, as these would revert to the Crown at the end of the term, sometimes limited to only a single year. Scour channels, granite slabs, sandy beaches and other natural features were utilised wherever possible in preference to construction of jetties, flensing decks or ramps, or other structures.

The most distinctive strategy which evolved on both coasts during the late 1850s was the split–season, with whaling parties moving progressively north to south or west to east, often between widely separated stations. One result of this pattern was the re–use of some of the earlier abandoned stations, although these shortened occupations (sometimes of two months or less) further discouraged the construction of semi–permanent camps or other infrastructure. The shift away from the traditional single station to the flexible mobile approach with smaller parties can be seen as a product of long–term learning processes. The whaling parties progressively scaled down to a size and form more appropriate to the local economies, and after a period of time were able to use the cumulative knowledge of both whale migration patterns and suitable station locations to optimise access to the resource. Unfortunately the other limiting factors, in particular the reductions of whale stocks, meant that despite increased experience, efficiency and innovations in strategies, the shore parties were unable to increase their returns significantly.

117There is no doubt that the Western Australian whalers formed the bottom end of the spectrum of international whaling activity. As a whole the Western Australian whaling industry consisted of fewer parties with fewer boats and fewer workers than contemporary operations in other parts of Australasia. Modern historical studies of Australasian whaling (including those associated with archaeological surveys) have tended to stress examples of optimum operation, rather than exploring the normal or lower scale of the industry in terms of numbers of parties, boats or men. For instance, Pearson's (1985) discussion of whaling in Twofold Bay mentions that in 1842 there may have been up to 27 boats from several stations; that in 1844 Boyd had seven boats and that after the 1840s all of the stations scaled down operations. However, neither this paper nor the later study of Davidson's whaling station (Bickford et al. 1988) attempts to describe how many whaleboats might typically be found at the fisheries.

Table 8.1 compares the maximum number of whaling parties known to have operated a single, probably peak, year. Unfortunately, figures for Victoria and New South Wales are not available. In considering what might have been regarded as a 'typical' Australasian whaling party, Little (1969:114) suggests that a ‘competitive station had at least three or four boats…and some maintained a double party of six boats’, with the average fishery requiring 30 men. Morton (1982:224) echoes this statement, also describing a four boat fishery with at least 30 men as typical for New Zealand, with six or seven boat fisheries being considered ‘larger’ stations. He also notes that there were extremes, with one party of 11 boats at Otakou in 1835, as well as other reports of stations with 70 or 80 men, equivalent to 10 or more boats (Morton 1982:228). However, these are descriptions of larger companies, with Morton casually dismissing the ‘tiny 'co–operatives' or other locally owned enterprises [carrying] on small operations’ with local capital (Morton 1982:226) which appear to be the equivalent of the Western Australian whalers.

The composition of the several South Australian whaling parties listed in Table 8.2 probably represent the normal scale of operations for that region, although there is no explicit indication as to whether these were considered small, large or average sized stations. While of comparable size to the Western Australian operations it can be seen that, with the exception of D’Estrees Bay, the South Australian fisheries employed a higher ratio of men to boats than the Western Australian averages of 6.5 men per boat on the south coast and 7 men per boat on the west coast. Even if the larger eight–man whaleboats were being used in South Australia and a cook, cooper and look–out were included as part of the count, this would still leave as many as half a dozen men extra. Contemporary accounts suggest that these men were ‘spare pulling hands’ (SAR 1/1/1842) who presumably also assisted in processing the whales and other duties.

A further difficulty in comparing Western Australian whaling operations to the rest of Australasia is that there are no complete statistics of production (oil and bone) for all regions of Australasia. In addition, the available figures are the combined total for all fisheries, both shore and pelagic operations, of those colonies that are represented.

118It is also possible that during the later period when Western Australian oil and bone were being shipped to the eastern colonies they may have been re–exported and included in the totals for other states. The partial record reported in Table 8.3 provides at least some basis for judging the Western Australian output. It is worth pointing out that the returns for Western Australia and South Australia, both of which were small colonies with limited resources and small whaling parties are similarly low in comparison to the larger colonies.

It is interesting to note that despite the vastly different scale of production in New South Wales, the percentage contribution of whale products to the export income of the colony followed the same pattern of decline as seen in Western Australia, with a drop from 42% of the colony's export earnings in 1830 to 1% in 1850 (Little 1969:125). The difference is that this decline was linked to falling production, whereas in Western Australia production remained relatively constant.

Chapter Four has already compared some of the physical characteristics of the Western Australian shore stations to those recorded historically or archaeologically for whaling sites in other parts of Australasia. From the evidence available the main differences appear to be those of scale, as might be expected from the consistently smaller operations of the Western Australian industry.

The similarities in the industrial processes and workforce meant that the basic nature of the location and organisation of the stations is comparable, yet while some of the New Zealand and Tasmanian fisheries virtually comprised small villages, the Western Australian stations were often no more than a tryworks shed and one or two huts or a single barrack. With the exception of the earliest west coast stations, particularly Bathers Beach, the Western Australian stations appear to have minimised their fixed improvements, particularly in the later phase when the adoption of the split season saw increased mobility and the use of multiple locations for shorter periods of time.

LIFE ON THE MARITIME FRONTIER

Although the Cheyne Beach assemblage does not provide information on the nature of the whaling workforce, it presents valuable insights into broader questions surrounding frontier life.

The inhabitants of Cheyne Beach appear to have been conservative in their adaptation (or lack thereof) to the surrounding environment and the isolated conditions. The faunal evidence shows that domesticates, in particular sheep, dominated the diet with much smaller contributions from pig and cattle. Native terrestrial and marine mammals are represented only in small proportions that would suggest occasional and opportunistic exploitation. Fish and shellfish collected from the adjacent reef are, however, present in sufficient quantities to suggest they must have provided regular contributions to the diet. As suggested in Chapter Seven, the nature of these resources presents a strong marine orientation, including the terrestrial fauna which were probably kept as captive populations on nearby Bald Island. While dietary preferences towards familiar food may have played a strong part, despite the distance from sources of supply, the reluctance of the fauna procurers to move beyond the coastal zone for the purpose of hunting may also have been a result of having to stay in close proximity to the station in readiness to respond to whale sightings. In this case the perceived conservatism may in fact be an adaptation appropriate to the whalers’ purpose at the site.

The interpretation of the Cheyne Beach whaling station as a residence for women and children, presumably John Thomas and his family, adds flesh to the bare historical hints that these places could be more than male-only seasonal camps. The material culture items recovered from in and around Structures One and Two suggest that domestic and social norms were being maintained, despite the station being at least 50 km to the nearest European settlement.

In her critique of masculinist representations of the Australian ‘bush’, Lawrence (2003b) draws on the archaeological evidence from a variety of whaling, mining and pastoral sites, including Cheyne Beach, to highlight the apparent contradictions between remote frontier settings and the material culture used by those who dwelt in them.

Lawrence’s argument is that despite physical distance and even gender imbalance, these remote settlements remained firmly integrated with wider society. She also sounds a caution regarding simplistic equations of refined goods (such as teawares) as identifying the presence of women, as men might also use these as devices to demonstrate and maintain domestic respectability and ideologies, such as can be seen from her analysis of artefacts from the male–only Adventure Bay whaling station (Lawrence 2006). However, the nature and context of the Cheyne Beach assemblage as a whole, as well as the historical evidence, lends confidence to Structures One and Two being associated with at least one woman and probably children.

Quirk (2007) has explored the ideologies of Victorian ‘gentility’ as enacted through ‘correct taste’ and ‘correct behaviour’, based on analysis of artefacts 119from Paradise, a late nineteenth century mining settlement in Queensland. She argues that gentility expressed in various ways (including material culture), acted as a claim to and marker of (middle class) status. In particular she argues for ‘gentility–as–strategy’ which focuses on the agency of women in the settlement and examines demonstrations or symbolic performance of gentility to those around.

In contrast to Paradise, there is no clear evidence of other women at Cheyne Beach, which returns us to the notion of the embedded nature of such ideologies. Demonstrating and performing respectability, despite the isolation and regardless of the varied social and ethnic make–up of the rest of the (male) whalers, reinforced status but also recognised the continuing relationships and connections to a wider society. The marriage of the Thomas daughters to middle class public servants means that Fanny and John Thomas successfully negotiated and retained their respectability.

Structure One itself would appear to be a standard cottage design despite the unusual use of whalebone as a structural and possibly decorative feature. One poignant indicator of life at the station for Fanny Thomas or other women is from the 1889 account of the abandoned whaling station buildings, describing the remnants of flower gardens at the front of a cottage, possibly Structure One, which the author felt may have been an attempt to counteract the effects of the smell of the ‘decaying monsters’ on the beach nearby (Albany Mail 18/12/1889).

Excavation elsewhere at Cheyne Beach, accessing the deposits from the presumably male–only barracks, would provide a fascinating contrast. Unfortunately the increasing disturbance to the site (described below) has rendered this unlikely in the foreseeable future.

An important aspect of life on the maritime industrial frontier was that many of the whaling stations, including Cheyne Beach, represented the first sustained contact between Aboriginal and non–Aboriginal groups. Despite this, several factors seem to have combined to minimise conflict. The stations themselves were only occupied for short durations, they utilised small portions of land, and resulted in little or no modification of surrounding environments through agricultural clearance or pastoral activity. In addition, the whalers exploited resources not commonly available to the Aboriginal inhabitants and therefore not a part of their normal subsistence base, while also being willing to provide the un–needed meat for Aboriginal consumption.

The concept of the frontier as a place of innovation and adaptation is equally valid in two directions. The eventual incorporation of Aboriginal men into the whaling labour force may have been part of the traditional acceptance of ethnic diversity by whalers, as well as a means of overcoming potential labour shortages. However, for the Aboriginal workers participation in whaling provided access to the European economy, with goods received or purchased with their 'lay' payments redistributed among their kin along traditional lines. As for young Europeans, the experience of whaling was no doubt tinged with an attractive aura of adventure and danger, and the opportunity to show off their physical and hunting prowess. In symbolic terms this would have provided these men with greater power in both communities, particularly given the lack of clear distinction from the European whalers in pay scales and labour conditions (Gibbs 2003a).

CONCLUSIONS

To return to the opening paragraph of this volume, while it would not be fair to say that the 19th century shore whaling industry in Western Australia was a failure, there is little doubt that it was stifled almost from the point of its conception. The early combination of a lack of liquid capital, combined with the direct and indirect competition from the vastly better equipped and experienced foreign pelagic whaleships, ensured that there were limited opportunities for expansion. As the colonial whaling industry was unable to demonstrate the ability to produce a significant return, investors were understandably reluctant to invest in it. Meanwhile, the owners of the whaling parties were left without the means to expand into the lucrative pelagic industry. By the time that there was sufficient liquid capital in the colony to make this sort of move, interest was focused on other resources.

The shore whaling industry did achieve a level of significance in two areas. The first was during the early phase of Western Australian settlement, when it provided an economic and psychological link between the early difficulties of the agricultural settlement and the emergence of the successful pastoral interests. For several years during the late 1830s, shore whaling doubled the level of export income for the colony, providing evidence of its economic viability. At the same time the immediacy of the industry's success, as demonstrated through the spectacle of the pursuit and catch, provided an important source of excitement and reassurance to the colonists. The second area of significance, and the reason for continuation of whaling, was its role in the economies of the coastal settlements outside Fremantle. For at least some of the settlers, the extra income provided a further hedge against continuing difficulties, and whaling eventually developed into a normal part of the seasonal round. Operation at the threshold (or below) of economic viability indicates its role in the evolving social environment within at least some elements of the colony (c.f. Rockman 2003:4).

In terms of the operation and processes of shore whaling, the Western Australian whalers were part of an international tradition, using the technology, terminology and techniques employed throughout the European world. However, evidence for learning and 120adaptation can be seen in the changing nature and practices of the industry over the 43 years or more of its existence. The whaling stations themselves appear to have been located and organised on the basis of principles seen elsewhere in Australasia, although initial attempts to emulate the more successful companies from these areas were rapidly discarded in favour of strategies more suitable to the prevailing social, economic and environmental conditions. Ultimately this saw the Western Australian whaling industry operate on a much more limited scale than its contemporaries and develop new means of optimising access to the resource. The rapid integration of Aboriginal men into the workforce might also be seen as a means of not only overcoming an often crucial labour shortage, but incorporating a range of new skills into the local industry.

Adaptation is less evident in the behaviours exhibited at Cheyne Beach. Although not typical of the whaling industry, being derived more from an attached settlement than the core of the process, the archaeological evidence suggests a high degree of conservatism in diet, material culture and the social behaviours of the inhabitants. In part this may have been a function of the economic specialisation of the site which discouraged indigenous development and focused attention on marine rather than terrestrial concerns. In addition, the assemblage of ceramics suggests a strong attachment to the wider trade networks, even though Albany and Cheyne Beach were fairly isolated outposts of the British Empire.

ADDENDA

Almost a decade after the submission of my original dissertation and eventual departure from Western Australia to work elsewhere, I happened to be driving along the South Coast Highway not far from Cheyne Beach. In a fit of nostalgia I decided I had the time to take a diversion and visit ‘my’ site. From the start it was obvious that there had been changes, with what had been 30 kilometres of sometimes problematic dirt track now a sealed road. Cresting the final ridge and looking down at the glorious white sweep of the bay it was also evident that new holiday houses were replacing the fishermen’s cottages, with freshly cleared bush suggesting more were coming. Talking to the owners of the caravan park, who only vaguely remembered the archaeology students who had stayed there, I learned that our main local informant had died several years earlier. Charles ‘Snapper’ Westerberg, descendant of a notable south coast fishing family, who had first seen the site as a child in the 1920s and later had taken up the small farm above the bay, had regularly come down to the site to chat and tell stories about the bay, fishing, and what he knew of the early whalers. Now that tenuous oral history was gone.

Driving down to the site the old loose gravel car park had been replaced with a bitumen surface, at worst meaning that whatever deposits were in that area had finally been scraped away, or at best that they were now sealed below. However, presumably as a consequence of the increased traffic and despite heritage listings and theses carefully packaged and sent to libraries and authorities, someone, possibly a well–meaning Council worker, had clearly decided to make it easier for boat trailers to access the beach. Where Structure One had sat for 160 years on its low dune covered in reeds was now a track, graded through to the beach. In the wheel ruts and to either side sat crushed or broken whalebone of what had been the floor, as well as the occasional brick fragment and sherd of transfer printed ceramic. Along the sides of the track the erosion which we had so carefully tried to avoid, minimizing our excavation area, backfilling and trying to re–plant the reeds each year, was now melting the heart of the site away.

As professionals we frequently experience the destruction of interesting, significant, exciting, or beautiful archaeological sites. Often their impending obliteration is the very reason why we are allowed to work on them. However, it is still possible to be shocked and saddened at the loss of these places, even if there is some consolation to think that at least you were lucky enough to capture something of their essence before they were gone. However, the vulnerability of these places and the idea that if the original study had only been several years later the Cheyne Beach site would already have been gone, can still leave me cold. Undoubtedly there are still archaeological deposits at Cheyne Beach, but I doubt that the story that emerged could have been the same.

By its nature the maritime frontier was ephemeral; a temporary presence with little intention or pretension of becoming more. Sites such as whaling stations had a tenuous position along the edges of coasts and perhaps the fragility of these sites to later natural and cultural forces simply underscores this. However, despite the marginal position on the edges of beaches and the edges of the empire, the archaeological evidence of the men, women and children who lived at Cheyne Beach shows they remained economically, technologically and socially linked and attentive to the wider system. Pursuit of a resource which could be fed back into that greater system and consequently reap them wealth and the comforts that could bring was the very reason for their being there. However, this was not necessarily true for all maritime frontier industries or settlements and there is certainly evidence that different whaling, pearling, sealing and operations pursued different strategies. Exploring these nuances promises to be a fertile ground for historical and archaeological researchers for many years to come.