CHAPTER IX
Wednesday, June 13 (continued).—On Monday we went for an expedition to the top of Burntwood. Burntwood is a grass-covered mountain slope at the other end of the settlement, and is the easiest ascent to the Base. By "the Base" the islanders mean the top of the cliffs which gird the island, and which rise one thousand to two thousand feet. William appeared early in the morning to say he had collected several donkeys and could get saddles for them. At nine o'clock we started forth, Graham, Ellen, William and I riding, Charlotte and Rebekah walking. It was decidedly difficult to keep one's balance on a man's saddle. The reins—or rather what took the place of them—consisted of a rope tied round the donkey's neck. We had a ride of five miles over a rocky common and down some very steep pitches. Graham gave us all much amusement. His donkey stumbled twice in succession, and he went right over its head. At the bottom of the hill we tethered the donkeys, and at once began the ascent. The distance up was said to be two miles, which took us about two hours to climb. The first part was over grassy mounds, but the latter portion involved a real scramble. We had to stoop to get under trees, and to push through thick brushwood, while in places it was so steep we had to get on our knees and be pulled up. To make matters worse the ground was very soppy. We arrived at the top somewhat exhausted. Graham spread his mackintosh and I lay down on it thankful to rest. There was thick brushwood of phylica, of fern and crowberry all round, and, tired as we were, I felt we could not make our way through this. Graham and William went in search of water and soon procured some. We had for luncheon captain's biscuits and chocolate, eaten under a scorching sun. We had a beautiful view, and could see Nightingale and Inaccessible quite clearly, the former island looking much the more rugged. We stayed up about two hours. Graham and William went off in search of eaglet eggs. They only secured one. The poor hen which they caught was given its freedom, but unfortunately the dogs got hold of it.
Coming down was easy enough at first, but there came a time when I felt I could do no more; the power seemed to have gone out of my legs, and really, without help I do not know how I should have got down. At the bottom of the hill we saw a cheerful fire burning. Charlotte had got down first and was brewing tea. She and Rebekah had on their own initiative brought a saucepan, tea and milk. We started home about 4.30 when it was already getting dusk. Before long it was quite dark, but the donkeys knew their way. It took us about two hours to get to the settlement. Two or three men came out to meet us, and nearer home at Hottentot Gulch we were met by quite a party who were carrying a lantern—Mrs. Swain and Mrs. Rogers brought us some tea, which we drank sitting on our donkeys. I found riding sideways on a man's saddle rather tiring, and I think we were all glad to get home. Mrs. Bob Green also most kindly sent us in a brew of tea. There were many inquiries as to how we had enjoyed the expedition, to which we could honestly say very much, though for the next day or two we felt very stiff.
Thursday, June l4.—We are having a spell of cold weather. There is snow on the mountains, and a good deal of hail has fallen. It is difficult to keep warm at night.
Friday, June l5.—A beautiful day, but a cold wind. We sat up late last night over the fire warming our feet.
Monday, June l8.—We shall be very glad when we get our letters off, for we know how anxious our people must be to hear. A ship was sighted yesterday far to the east. Graham said he thought he saw one when coming from early Communion, but I could see nothing.
Yesterday (Sunday) it was so dark at the end of afternoon service that we could not have the practice, so it has been settled to have service at two o'clock, an hour which seems to suit the people better. The singing is improving. We managed the "Venite" very well, and now mean to try the "Te Deum." I intend to teach them a chant with three changes in it. In the end perhaps we shall sing the Psalms. Yesterday the children sang with much vigour "There's a Friend for little children." One little girl whose voice could be heard above all the rest had a "strapping" from her father when she got home for singing too loud, poor little thing!
To-day the men put up a washing-stone at the east end of the house. Each house has one near the water. The clothes to be washed are soaped, rubbed and slashed on it. The women often come and help Ellen to wash, and to-day Rebekah carried off some things for her mother to iron. I do my own things myself outside the front door. Graham has been busy to-day whitewashing the kitchen, and looked so comical in one of Ellen's aprons and with a handkerchief tied over his head.
Mrs. Martha Green, Betty's sister, came to see us this afternoon. Poor woman, she has never recovered from the shock of the boat accident. She then lost her husband, two sons, two brothers, and, I believe, two brothers-in-law. She presented me with a pair of stockings, the fourth pair I have had given me, and Graham with a pair of socks, and said we were to tell her when we were in want of more. She lives with her married son Henry Green, and is the mother of Mrs. Repetto.
We fear a great part of our garden will be useless, as there is so much white mould in it which rots the roots of the plants. The only way to get rid of this mould which spreads very quickly is to burn it or cart it away, so the people say.
Tuesday, June 19.—Rebekah came in on Sunday for some glycerine for her mother who suffers from asthma, or, as the people would say, "ashmere." Her mother has taken it two nights running, and found it gave her much relief. It will now be believed in more than ever.
Friday, June 22.—On Wednesday night Glass came in to ask Graham if he would go round the island with him and Tom Rogers. Graham was a little doubtful at first on account of the school, but I promised to take it and so he settled to go. They started off when it was only just light at six o'clock on Thursday morning on three donkeys.
[Illustration: GOING WEST]
Ellen came up to help me with the school, and I managed all right. We had an early lunch and spent the afternoon in needlework on the sea-shore. We had planned a cosy evening, but at about six o'clock Mrs. Glass and Rebekah with Mabel Hagan and Florence appeared. They said something about spending the evening with us and stayed two hours much enjoying themselves. Early this afternoon Mary Repetto came in with some wood and told me the party were returning. I ran out to find Graham unsaddling his donkey. He had had a fall over its head, but was none the worse. The donkey, it seems, took a deep step as its rider was gazing at the scenery. Graham looked tired, but said he had had a most enjoyable time. They rode to just below Burntwood, where we were the other day; there they tethered their donkeys and ascended the mountain to get past a bluff, and then descended to the shore, along which they had a walk of about three miles over boulders and stones. The two men made nothing of this walk, but Graham says it was hard work for one unaccustomed to it, because it not only bruised the feet but every step had to be chosen. They spent the night in a cave on the beach, where they made a large fire and kept it up all night. There were five dogs. Rob insisted on sleeping by Graham's head, and occasionally put his long nose across his face. Graham had a plank covered with tussock grass for a pillow and did not get much sleep. In the middle of the night Rob rose up and went for another dog, and a great fight ensued. The men had to get up, and with difficulty the dogs were parted. Graham went for an early swim while the men cooked the breakfast, which consisted of poached eaglet eggs and tea boiled in a frying-pan. In drying a new pair of socks at the camp fire he almost destroyed one by burning big holes in it. Rob enjoyed himself amazingly, and learnt to hunt eaglets which nest in holes, but he had to be restrained, as he would have killed the birds.
Tuesday, June 26.—We have been having a spell of rain. Sunday was too wet to take the harmonium up to church, consequently we had to start the chants and hymns without an instrument. We got on all right until the last hymn, at which we had three tries, then in desperation I made a stupendous effort, and we pulled through. We had to have dinner at half-past twelve to be ready for service at two o'clock. I was deep in slumber when at five minutes to the hour Graham ran in to call me. It was a scramble, and I got to church feeling half awake. The children answer so well, better than children do at home; but then, of course, Graham knows exactly their capabilities and catechizes on what he has been teaching in the week. The people like learning new tunes, and sing them better than the old ones, which they are apt to drawl. To keep up to the mark involves a fair amount of practising at home, especially when you have no harmonium; you must have the tunes and chants at your finger ends. For once we had the afternoon and evening to ourselves, and sat over the fire in the dusk talking over happy memories.
Monday was wet again. Just as we were sitting down to one o'clock dinner
Mrs. Hagan came in with her baby, saying she thought it was two o'clock.
She stayed on till after three, having been joined by her daughter.
Finally we left them to themselves, as I had yeast to make and Graham's
hair to cut. When I came back she had departed.
It rained in torrents last night and all to-day. School was impossible. With a free day before us we felt like children, and were settling down when William appeared with his reading-book. "Would Mr. Barrow 'larn' him"; so Graham buckled to for over an hour. It is nice to see a young fellow so anxious to learn. Later on he came in with his hand bound up. He had cut it with a hatchet, happily not badly, and wanted me to dress it, his mother having already put a cobweb on.
When Bob Green (William's step-father) came in with the milk he told us he had seen a dead cow in the gulch. I fear it has died from wet and exposure. I cannot bear to think of the poor beasts suffering so. One winter more than a hundred were lost simply because there was not enough food for them. They climb up the mountains in search of grass, and often from weakness fall and are killed.