Wednesday, August 15.—Today I sowed flower seeds; a performance which intensely interested the children who crowded round the front door. I used biscuit-tins for boxes, which William filled with soil. I have planted bulbs of a Mentone creeper, love-in-a-mist, heather, sweet peas and canna seeds. One does sadly miss the spring flowers. Afterwards I went down to the beach with Sophy and the Repetto girls to pick up wood. Rob carried the canvas bag which was rolled up, and it was amusing to see him careering after the sea-hens (skua-gulls) at a tremendous pace with the bag in his mouth. The girls picked up more wood than we could carry home. We have had some more peach-slips brought, which we have planted under the shelter of the flax, and yesterday William brought more than a dozen apple trees and cuttings, and is going to bring some young fig trees. Thus we shall have quite an orchard, if they grow, but the "if" is a big one. The people do not seem to take any trouble with their fruit trees and hardly ever prune them. Perhaps they are disheartened on account of the rats. Most of the orchards are a long way off in sheltered ravines round the island.
The men lead fairly busy lives. Last month they were occupied in drawing out manure in the quaint bullock wagons to their potato patches, which are about three miles off. It was no easy business as the bullocks were not up to the work owing to their starved condition. Each man possesses about three pairs of bullocks. This week they will begin planting potatoes, and some of the children will have to be away from school as their help will be needed.
This evening I made the small boys help to gather grass for the cattle, which we threw to them over the wall. It gave me great satisfaction to see them eating it, and a particularly lean one had quite a good feast. I try to feed them every day, and get the Repetto girls to help.
I feel a little elated as I have made some rather good bread.
There was a thunderstorm to-day. The weather is quite spring-like, the days are warm but the nights cold.
Ellen and I had such an evening yesterday. With much misgiving I determined to try to develop some films—my first attempt. The kitchen was the darkroom. We began operations soon after supper and did not get to bed till nearly midnight. The developing was done under great difficulties. The candle had to be renewed two or three times, and I was left in total darkness at most critical moments. Notwithstanding, nine out of twelve have come out fairly well. I hope I shall manage better next time.
Repetto has been talking over the cattle question with some of the men, and telling them how much better off they would be if they limited the number of cattle and sheep to be owned by each family, say, to ten cattle and fifty sheep. He pointed out to them what a benefit it would be if a schooner could come yearly to trade. He thinks the cattle ought to sell at £3 a head. If possible Graham would go to the Cape with one of the men chosen by themselves.
[Illustration: THE HENRY GREEN FAMILY AT WORK ON A POTATO PATCH]
Friday, August 24.—Yesterday a ship came close in, but the sea was rough and the men were busy at their potato patches.
Monday, August 27.—Saturday was very blustery, and the rain came down in torrents. We kept thinking of the poor cattle. Several were sheltering under the wall at the bottom of the garden and looking so miserable. Ellen and I felt sure one or two would be gone by morning; and sure enough they were. Altogether twelve died that night. It really made me feel ill. The number of deaths has now reached to one hundred and eighty-four. Betty's cow that has several times clambered into the garden comes round sometimes in the middle of the night, clattering up the stone pathway to see if it can get in. It has just calved. The men are all very down-hearted, never having had such losses before. Henry Green has lost over forty. Repetto, who does not own many, has lost four, two bullocks and two cows, within a few days. The two cows he had lately kept in his garden. Graham told him that he thought the islanders had brought the loss upon themselves by keeping too many.