CHAPTER XXXIV
Seal Bay, Monday, December 28.—Well, I must tell of all our doings from the beginning. We went to bed last night before eight, and were up this morning by four o'clock. Our packing did not take long. My possessions were a rug, air cushion, bathing dress, pair of stockings, comb, towel, tooth-brush, soap, knitting, a gospel, sketching things, a book and camera. We started at six, Ellen, Mary Repetto and Sophy Rogers accompanying us as far as the Bluff, which is five miles out. Ellen and I rode on donkeys and a third carried the baggage. Graham very much hoped we should be able to keep to the shore by wading round the Bluff, which is not always possible as the sea sometimes dashes against the cliff with much force. It would only have taken a few minutes and would have saved a long climb over the Bluff. However, William, who is timid, was dead against it, so we chose the hill. It meant hard climbing over several ridges and took us about an hour and a half. Ellen and the girls kept with us till the descent began, when we bid them farewell. We filed along the side of the mountain for some time and found it rather rough walking, the track leading through long grass in which were hidden holes and stones. At last we got down to the shore, and after a sandy bit had three miles of clambering and stepping over boulders and big stones. This was really hard work, if only because one was obliged to hold the head down in order to pick every step. At last we got near the end of it, and coming to a stream trickling down the cliff—how we welcomed the water, for we were hot and thirsty!—we sat down and had our lunch.
Tuesday, December 29.—To continue the account. We had now come to a very picturesque part, and were nearly at Seal Bay. On the shore was a clump of rocks forming an archway. Rocks like these are rather a feature on this side of the island. We had now a short but stiff climb; holding on to tufts of stubbly reed-like grass we pulled ourselves up to the top of the cliff. Here we were on fairly level ground, an uneven plain nearly three miles long, the first part of which had its grass thickly strewn with tiny ferns. The sweet-scented geranium abounded and so did the crowberry, which is a finer and sweeter kind than that which grows nearer the settlement. We frequently stopped to refresh ourselves with it. Near a gulch we sat down for a good rest, and then trudged on to Seal Bay. The scenery was fine, high mountains with long, grassy slopes. We soon got to the cave on the shore which the men generally occupy, a poor sort of shelter. The first thing we now did was to cook our supper. Boiling water was soon ready for the tea and steaming potatoes for the cold meat. Supper over I went to a pool to wash up, and found the water quite warm. The next thing was to find a sleeping-place. We went along the shore in search of a cave and in about ten minutes came to two side by side. One was immense—long, broad and lofty—and we immediately marked it off as our drawing-room. The other was just as small; it had a good open frontage, but was only about seven feet broad; it would do, though, to sleep in. Both were floored with clean sand and fairly dry. Close by we saw troops of penguins, which looked so delightfully quaint hopping and running in long files to the sea. They have such an ancient look as they move with bent body and head poking forward. We finally decided to sleep in the open on a sand bank, which was still warm from the sun. We found the best plan was to scoop out a place to lie in and heap up sand for a pillow. We had left William busy blocking up his cave with planks, and stopping up every crevice with tussock, so that not a breath of cold air should enter. Sleep would not come to us, and the roar of the waves dashing on the beach a few yards below us did not help to bring it. The wind, rising, began to blow the sand in our faces. This was a little too much, so about two o'clock Graham got up and lit the fire which he had already laid just inside the cave, and soon we were sitting and warming ourselves at its blaze. Then we tried the cave and got a little sleep, but were awakened by William at four. We sent him off to fish, and after resting a little longer, got up and had a bathe. There were rather big breakers, and I was knocked down but was none the worse. William, who as a rule is no fisherman, had caught six fish, and I superintended the boiling of them for breakfast, while Graham went for fresh water, which is only to be had some distance off.
Wednesday, December 30.—We started betimes yesterday for Stony Beach and found it a longer walk than I expected. We went along the shore, part of the way over boulders, then on to the side of the hill, where I photographed two mollyhawks on their nest. I also took photographs at different points along the shore. We at last got on to a grassy slope. We were feeling tired, but trudged on. As we neared Stony Hill we heard the galloping of wild cattle, and soon a troop of them appeared. Happily, we were well out of their course, for they are sometimes dangerous. This part of the way was very tiring and we were thankful—at least I was—when we got to the wooded valley which was our destination. Amongst the trees were flocks of noisy penguins. We were now in a most lovely part; it was really beautiful, and the view up the valley wild and fine. We settled down under the shade of the trees, made a fire and had a meal, after which Graham and William wandered away. I thankfully found a shady spot under a tree and had a rest. Then roused myself and tried to sketch. It was very hot and one did not feel energy for anything, not even to read. After a time Graham and William returned; they had wandered on to the opposite hill, from where I had heard their voices. Graham was anxious I should see the valley, so at last I mustered energy enough to stroll up. I was glad I went, for the view was very grand. We toiled up the side of the valley on to a ridge and looked down on Stony Beach, which lay at a great depth below. Scattered along it in a half-circle were hundreds of penguins. We slowly made our way down again, resting when we could under the shade of trees. We got back to the place where we lunched, made some tea, and had a hard-boiled egg each and some bread-and-butter, but not much, as we had to husband our food. It was about six, and we thought it time to start back to Seal Bay. We could not stay at Stony Beach, as we knew of no shelter. Walking across the moor, we kept a look-out for the cattle and spied them some distance away on higher ground; they appeared to be watching our movements narrowly. We came back quickly and got to our quarters in an hour and thirty-five minutes, just as it was getting dusk. We sat down at the mouth of our cave; then Graham and William lit the fire and put the potatoes on to boil. I sat near and at intervals progged the potatoes. It came on to rain slightly, but the cave just sheltered us. William slept in a corner against the wall, near where the fire had been. Graham got up in the middle of the night and put a rug over him, as he had not been able to sleep much the night before on account of feeling cold. I never had a better night, and felt refreshed, though tired. It has been very showery, but we managed to go off for a bathe and found a better place than yesterday's: a place between two rocks, into which the sea rushed at frequent intervals. We enjoyed a lazy morning. While Graham and William played cricket in the large cave, I rested in the other. When I looked in upon them a little later I found them stretched at full length, with pocket-handkerchiefs over their faces, which told its own tale.
There is lying on the rocks here the trunk of a large tree, which was first washed up on Tristan in 1894. It then measured, Repetto says, 120 feet to 140 feet in length, and 20 feet in girth.
[Illustration: HOTTENTOT GULCH]
Thursday, December 3l.—Here we are, at home again, feeling decidedly tired, but having much enjoyed our holiday in the open air. We spent a very quiet day yesterday. In the afternoon I sketched an archway of rock. Then I went along the shore in search of Graham and William. The latter was trying, without either hook or bait, to catch fish, and caught three crawfish, one of which we had for supper. This morning we were up soon after four and had our bathe; the sun was just rising. We returned to prepare breakfast. William was to have had the fire lit, but we found he had used all his matches in vain. The fire was made to burn at last and breakfast cooked and over, we packed our knapsacks and started for home. We got across the plain fairly well and down the cliff, which was not an easy descent, on to the shore. It took us one hour and twenty-five minutes scrambling over the stones and boulders of the shore, and we went very quickly, just taking a respite now and again. In some parts, where there had been landslips, it was not safe to halt. We were glad when we got over this part, but the worst was to come. The mountain had a heavy mist over it. Before we began to ascend it we sat in Anherstock Gulch and had lunch. We were very thirsty and the only water we could get was some rain-water in the hollow of a rock. The ascent was steep, and before we had gone far rain came on. Then we had to walk along the side of the mountain in a narrow path bordered and overhung by dripping ferns. The last part was very steep and I kept stumbling over my wet skirt, and really if William had not assisted me, I do not know how I should have got up. Graham had as much as he could do to drag up the load on his back. From the heights which we now reached we could see the Bluff and make out figures which we guessed were awaiting us. Before long we got down to them and found they were Ellen and the children. She had brought donkeys and also a dry skirt and waterproof for me, which I was thankful to put on. The donkeys soon were saddled and we set off home. The saddles were men's and lacked stirrups. We came home at a tremendous pace, and it was as much as I could do to stick on. Graham, relieved of his load, ran behind and kept the donkey going. Knowing we were wet through, he would not listen to my entreaties to let the animals walk, so we raced the five miles home. As we neared the houses people came out to greet us, and were glad to see we were safely back. Only a few of the women have been to Stony Beach, and I doubt if any have been up the valley. In the evening the men came round, as is their custom on New Year's Eve, and in the intervals of playing and drinking tea were most interested in hearing about our expedition. They think we went about thirty-two miles.