CHAPTER XI. RHODA FLOWER
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TALES OF A PIONEER 63
CHAPTER XI
RHODA FLOWER
(By Ellen and Ann Saunders)
The days of youth are joyful in their way;
Bare feet tread lightly, and their steps are gay.
---WILL CARLETON.
AMONGST the passengers that Alfred not infrequently carried in the "two-horse chay," referred to in a previous chapter, was a slender, dark-eyed girl, named Rhoda Flower who, with her parents and sister, had arrived in Nelson from England only a few weeks later than he.
Rhoda was thirteen and her fair-haired, grey-eyed sister Susan rather more than three years older when they landed in the Colony, and when Nelson, with its bush-clad hills, shining waters, and deep blue sky, was reached, it seemed to the two town-bred girls fairer than anything they had ever before seen, read about, or even imagined. With far different eyes did their mother behold its wild beauty. Her heart sank at the prospect of making her home in such a desolate spot, and, when she found that she must pass her first night in New Zealand in a rude flax whare, she sat down in silent despair. Susan and Rhoda, however, clapped their hands with delight at the thought of sleeping in such a really Robinson-Crusoe-looking place, and busied themselves in cleaning their rough shelter and making it as comfortable as they could. They decided that a big packing case would be just the thing for a table, and gaily dragged it into position, arranged their few belongings, and made up their beds, before they sat down to their evening meal of milkless tea, stale ship's biscuit, and delicious fresh potatoes baked in the ashes of their bush-wood fire.
William Flower, meanwhile, had been trying to repair the thatch of the whare, which was in a very
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dilapidated condition. He did not, however, succeed in making it watertight, which was unfortunate, as, during the night, the rain came down in torrents, and Susan and Rhoda had to take it in turns to hold a big umbrella over their mother's bed.
Rhoda, who had brown eyes with unusually long and thick black lashes, a clear sun-browned skin, and small, white, even teeth, used often to say laughingly that she thought she must have gypsy blood in her veins, because she always so dearly loved an outdoor, gypsy life. With all its trials and privations that first year in Nelson was a very happy time to her. To the two young sisters it was a source of never failing joy to wander at their own sweet wills through the native bush. Their beauty-loving natures delighted in all they saw. They loved to track some stream with fern decked banks to its source; to listen to the bell-like notes of the birds; or to gather hitherto unknown blossoms with which to deck their cabin home. When their careful mother complained that they wore out their boots on their long, rough rambles, they took them off and went about with bare feet all through the summer and autumn months.
On fine nights it was the custom of the pioneer Nelson colonists to kindle a big fire in the open air and to gather round it together to eat their evening meal. Everyone who could do so contributed to this communal repast, some bringing game they had shot or fish they had caught; others, potatoes, bread, or any other eatables they might possess. After this simple meal was concluded, there were always plenty of stirring adventures to relate. Speeches were made by some of those whose names were afterwards to figure in the history of the Colony, or the young folks sang gay choruses, played games, or danced to the music of William Cullen's flute. Both Susan and Rhoda had beautiful voices, and their sweet singing of such quaint, old-fashioned songs as "The Soldier's Dream," "The Mistletoe Bough," "The Gypsy Countess," etc, was always a very popular feature of the evening's entertainment. Strange to say, no one listened to these melodious Strains with more rapt attention than the unmusical, blunt, intensely practical Alfred Saunders. He constituted himself the sisters' adviser and defender, and his thoughtful gravity never relaxed so much at any other time as when he was in their gay company.
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So weeks and months passed quickly away. The bush fell before the fires and swinging axes of the men who were opening up the country. Buildings went up, and the old free, unconventional life in Nelson came to an end. Rhoda went with her parents to live on the Teetotal Section, and Susan was married to the first mate of the vessel in which she had travelled from England.
Home seemed strangely quiet to Rhoda without her merry sister. Heavier responsibilities devolved upon her, and life assumed altogether a more serious aspect. It was a time of much depression. The necessities of life were difficult to obtain. Nearly all the settlers were very poor, and all were more or less depressed and discouraged. Rhoda often pondered over ways and means of helping her parents, and at last, one day, hearing a neighbour lament that there was no dressmaker at hand to make up a piece of wincey she possessed, Rhoda timidly offered her services. They were accepted, and the precious material was carried home, cut out in fear and trembling, made up and unpicked, and remade again, before the little dressmaker was at all satisfied with the result. However, when the work was at length completed, the lady who had entrusted Rhoda with, it was quite delighted with her work, and sang her praises to all her friends. Many of them wanted Rhoda to sew for them, so that she soon had her hands full; and the little barefooted gypsy, who had danced along the seashore, and scrambled through the bush, became the trim young needlewoman of the small community. She made not only dresses, but shirts, trousers, and coats out of all sorts of materials--sometimes even the roughest sacking. Of course these garments were made entirely by hand, as there were no sewing machines then, and the modest charge for the making of each garment was half-a-crown.
When Rhoda was sixteen years old, her only brother was born, and to this brother she became very devoted. He was a strong, healthy, contented child, and wherever Rhoda went little Tom went too, even when it was for a walk or a drive with Alfred Saunders. When Alfred came to see Rhoda, the child was usually tumbling about the floor at her feet, whilst his sister's fingers flew over some garment she was making; and perhaps the eager willingness with which Rhoda put her girlish shoulder to the wheel, in the endeavour to do what she could for
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her helpless family, may have had as much to do with winning Alfred's affection as the wistful beauty of her soft brown eyes or her gift of sweet song.
Whatever the source of attraction between this timid, romantic girl and her fearless, matter-of-fact lover, they certainly did become so much attached to each other that, on the eve of Alfred's departure for Australia, Rhoda promised that she would follow him there as soon as he had made arrangements for the honeymoon journey they proposed to take through part of that continent's rough, wild interior. A few months later, with many bitter tears, for Rhoda's strong adhesiveness made partings an agony to her, she said "Good-bye" to her parents and went on board the "Star of China" with an old acquaintance who was travelling to Australia and who promised to take good care on the voyage over of the "Little Gypsy" as it was the old man's fancy to call Rhoda. She was received in Sydney by one of Alfred's friends, who showed her much motherly kindness, and in whose house she was married, a few days later, just twelve days after she had completed her eighteenth year. Of the wedding trip that followed, Alfred has written a full account which forms the substance of the following chapter. Rhoda always regarded it as the most delightful outing she ever had, and she continued, for more than fifty years, to give vivid accounts of its various happenings, to the great delight of the long succession of children and grandchildren who loved to cluster round her to listen to her graphic stories of days "long, long ago."
