CHAPTER III.
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Chapter III.
The Home Station--New Hands--Building Mr Rees House--Few's Folly--Drowning of John Gilbert--Tobacco Famine--Sunday Work and Prayers.
THE buildings at the home station, which was situated where Queenstown now stands, were represented by a "futter" and a long narrow hut, consisting of three rooms--a kitchen, with a small bedroom off it, and a large room with bunks built all round it, after the fashion of the 'tween decks of an emigrant ship. A "futter," as everyone knows, is simply a storeroom built on top of posts, round which sheets of tin have been nailed, in order to prevent the rats from climbing up to the destruction of the stores. Here we found four men and a woman, who had been brought there via the south end of the Lake, and who had been engaged during the past few months in building the house, in preparing a vegetable garden, and in planting some potatoes. Of these a married man--answering to the euphonious name of George Washington Macgaw--and his wife occupied the small bedroom
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off the kitchen, Mrs Macgaw having been engaged to cook and look after the men's hut, whilst Macgaw himself, being a carpenter, was employed in making window-sashes and doors for the house we were about to commence the building of, and which was intended to be the residence of Mr and Mrs Rees.
The other three men were named respectively, Bob Fortune, Harry Posselthwaite and Chips, for I really forget the latter's proper name, and he was known on the station by no other than that of Chips. Bob Fortune was the boatman, and his whole time was occupied in navigating a whale boat which had been brought from Invercargill for the station use, and in tarring and painting her at intervals of a few months. Harry and Chips left a few weeks after our arrival, and I never heard of them again. Simon Harvey and Andrew Low also left about a week after we reached the Lake.
The most important work in hand after our arrival was the building of Mr Rees' house, and everyone was employed at this with the exception of myself, but as I had been told off to the duty of looking after the sheep, it was but seldom that I could lend a hand to the others. The house being built of wattle and daub necessitated the use of a
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great quantity of puddled clay, and for this purpose an old horse, rejoicing in the name of Hoppy, was broken in to draw a sledge, and George, who had immediately on our arrival handed over to Mrs Macgaw the duties of cooking, was appointed to the post of Jehu.
I have in my possession a sketch, taken at that time, of George and Hoppy engaged at their daily avocation. Hoppy is represented on his haunches, his fore feet spread out and his ears laid back, indeed even a novice could scarcely fail to observe that an air of "jibbing" seems to have been happily caught by the artist. Hanging on to and dragging at the bridle, a masculine figure, with thunder in his eye and a three foot saw in the hand not engaged with the bridle, can easily be recognised by those who know him as George Simpson. Why a hand saw occupies the place of a whip I cannot say, and can only suppose that this weapon had been found more likely to inspire the heart of Hoppy with fear than would a whip, when he felt disposed to exhibit any signs of jibbing during his work.
Shortly after our arrival with the sheep, a Mr Few, who had also taken up country on the shores of the Lake, hearing that we had reached our destination in safety, started from Canterbury with a
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mob of cattle with which to stock up his run. Up the valley of the Cardrona he followed our tracks--, but struck off over the Crown range somewhat too soon, and on descending on our side he found himself in the gorge of the Arrow, and had a most arduous task before he got the cattle down on to the open country where Arrowtown now stands. The gorge of the Arrow was ever afterwards known to us by the name of "Few's Folly."
Finding it more difficult than he had anticipated to get the cattle on to his own run, he obtained Mr Rees' consent to let them graze on the flat country lying between the Shotover and Arrow rivers, and left a stockman in charge of them.
This stockman, John Henry Stringer by name, accompanied John Gilbert to the Lindis soon afterwards to bring up some milch cows to the station, and on their way home, when crossing the cattle over the Molyneux at Wilkin's station, poor Gilbert was drowned. Being a splendid swimmer he threw himself out of the saddle when his horse got beyond its depth, and struck out for the opposite shore. Apparently, however, he was caught in one of the dangerous whirls of the river, and was sucked under water, and when his body was found it was going round and round, the hands in position on his chest,
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as if ready for another stroke, showing that to the very last he had continued to strike out for dear life.
The horse which Gilbert had been riding was the one belonging to Stringer, and had been for long employed by the mailman on the road between Timaru and Moeraki, when it was accustomed to swim such rivers as the Waitaki with the postman and his mail-bags on its back, and there can be no doubt but that if Gilbert had stuck to the saddle instead of depending on his own powers as a swimmer he would have been brought safely to shore, for old Harry swam across without any effort, gave himself a shake, and began nibbling the grass as if nothing very particular had taken place. For years afterwards poor Johnnie Gilbert's grave was a conspicuous object on the spit of land between the two branches of the Molyneux river which unite opposite Wilkin's station buildings.
Stringer brought on the cows to the station himself, and quite a gloom was cast over our little community by the news of Gilbert's death.
About this time there came to the station one Duncan MacAusland, who had been engaged by Mr Rees, and no better man could have been found in the colony for the rough and hard work that we had
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to do. Physically and constitutionally one of the strongest men I ever have known, always in good spirits, as happy when he was camped out with neither food to eat nor shelter wherewith to cover him from the rain as he was when in comfortable quarters with a first-class menu before him. Although a most inveterate smoker, I never saw him with a pipe in his mouth when he was at work, but no sooner was the word given to spell a while and have a smoke than his was the first pipe to be alight.
In connection with this I may mention that on one occasion the supply of tobacco ran short on the station, and when this happened the drays were not due to arrive at the foot of the Lake for some time. Every substitute was tried by the smokers of our community to appease their craving, such as tea leaves and the bark of the manuka scrub; even black cutty pipes were powdered up and mixed with some combustible or other, but still the craving could not be satisfied.
I can remember still how Mr Rees and I--the two non-smokers on the station--argued in favour of patience and forbearance to the others, pointing out how good a thing this would be to them all, as teaching them how to control their tastes, but the
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only answer that was vouchsafed to us was a groan. When we tried to distract their thoughts from the want of tobacco, and pointed to the beautiful scenery around us and to the grandeur of the waves as they broke over the rocks on the shores of the Lake, they only looked at us as if they would fain have smote us where we stood. The beauties of the world palled on their tastes; the wonders of creation seemed as nought to them. If we drew their attention to the luxuries of the table which we were enjoying--the broth, the gigot of mutton, or the inevitable currant pudding on Sunday, their only answer was-- "Take the whole blooming 'duff,' but give us a plug of tobacco." Had I not been a witness to the misery created by that tobacco famine I would never have believed that men could be such slaves to the weed, but that these my fellow workers actually became ill with the longing desire to indulge in a smoke is a positive fact, and Mr Rees was obliged to allow MacAusland to ride to Wilkin's station, a distance of 50 miles, in order to get a little tobacco to carry them on until the arrival of our own drays.
Amongst the number of our domestic animals was one to which I have as yet made no allusion; this was a small terrier dog owned by Mrs Macgaw,
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which was the source of some considerable amusement on one occasion at any rate. It so happened that one of the milch cows went astray, and it was some time before we were able to account for her absence. One day, however, as I was looking for the horses up Blow ho' gully, when crossing the creek which empties itself into the Lake near the men's hut, I found the carcase of the lost cow in the creek, where it had evidently been "bogged," and must have been lying for some days. I told Mr Rees of my discovery, and pointed out to him that the water in the stream would be unfit for use, and that we had better have the carcase taken out at once. He, however, put off doing so, as we were so busy at the time, and it was not till about a week afterwards, when the water had become quite unfit to drink, and we had been obliged to build a small pier out into the lake in order to get water from there, that he saw the absolute necessity of removing the dead cow. Calling all hands together, on a Sunday forenoon, we were marched up to where the remains of the cow were, and, tying a rope round the horns, the main body of us laid on to it, whilst Mr Rees and Macgaw took hold of the tail, then with a one, two, three, we all pulled together, but alas! the carcase was too far gone the way of
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all flesh, and the tail giving way, precipitated Mr Rees and Macgaw into the creek. Although it was far from a pleasant bath, they both joined in the laugh at their own expense, and then, having succeeded in getting the body of the cow out, and having buried it, we adjourned to the men's hut. Shortly afterwards Mr Rees came in, and announced his intention of holding service, so we all seated ourselves round the room, and opening the Bible he read to us the 14th chapter of St Luke. When he reached the 5th verse, which says, "Which of you shall have an ass or an ox fallen into a pit, and will not straightway pull him out on the Sabbath day," we glanced furtively at each other, and, if I remember rightly, a few knowing winks passed between us as we thought of how a propos this chapter fitted in with the unpleasant job we had been engaged in just shortly previous to this. Having finished the chapter, Mr Rees proceeded to read the prayers belonging to the Episcopal Church, but as we happened, one and all, to be of the Presbyterian persuasion, this form of worship was a great mystery to us, and a good deal of jumping up and kneeling down was performed by our little congregation not in accordance with the rules laid down for the guidance of members of the Episcopal Church, till,
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in one of those scrambles, George Simpson trod heavily on the tail of Mrs Macgaw's little dog, which set up a wonderfully strong howl for such a little creature. Mrs Macgaw rose from her knees and hurried to its rescue, whilst George prostrated himself, and amidst the suppressed laughter of the others, some standing and some kneeling, Mr Rees closed his book and left the hut. Speaking to me afterwards on the subject, he said he was much shocked at our behaviour, but when I explained that none of us knew that form of worship at all, and that our apparently bad behaviour was quite unintentional, he was appeased, and after that date his services were reduced to a simpler form, in which we all gladly joined.
