Memories of my life

by Mrs. J. S. O. Allen

In the morning they were all up to see me off, and there was a scene of great excitement. Amongst the rest there were blacks from all round, shouting at the top of their voices, "You white lubra, what for you go away from my country." I had a very kindly send-off, and with tears in my eyes, I bid adieu to all. All the way along the driver pointed out to me places of interest with such queer names, such as "Biscuit Flat," "Black Joe's Corner," "Binney's Lookout," and many others which I have forgotten. What interested me most was, however, the name of the place where I was to stop for the night. It was called "Mosquito Plains," and I wondered if any mosquitoes were there.

That evening we reached the "Mosquito Plains." I forget the name of the hotel where we stayed for the night, but I remember that the old landlord was making way for a new one and that there was a great crowd in and about the bar. Mr. Sinclair, the mail-driver, took me to the woman of the house and asked her to find a room for me, as I was leaving by the mail in the morning. I never saw him again.

I slept little that night, as the people were pacing about the hotel all night. The woman I had seen before told me that the coach would start about 3 o'clock in the morning. Daylight was just breaking as I wearily got ready for my unknown journey. The driver of the mail was a quiet young man. There seemed a lot of parcels and luggage, but I was the only woman among the passengers. I hoped to reach Kingston that night. I was not much interested in our stopping-places, as I was longing to be back in Adelaide.

I had no one to talk to, so I stood by the coach while the horses were being got ready. I heard a gentleman say, "Has anybody thought of getting a cup of tea for this girl?" and the answer was "No." Then he said, "I will." In the bar they were all drinking by the lamplight, and he held a little saucepan over the lamp and made me a cup of tea. I watched him from where I was standing, with grateful thoughts that could not find expression. I often saw that gentleman afterwards in Adelaide. I was often tempted to go up to him and thank him for that cup of tea, but I did not like to do so, as I never learnt his name.

At last we were off. The inside of the coach was filled with luggage, so the passengers all sat outside, and the arrangement was not very comfortable, as there was nothing to rest one's back against. Some of the men who mounted the coach that morning were the worse for drink. Still, no one said anything unpleasant to me. We went speeding along through desolate scrub. The road, or, rather, the mail track, was very uneven, and I expected every moment to be thrown out. I asked the driver what I was to hold on by. He laughed and answered, "Hold on by your eyebrows." There were places on the wayside for refreshments, and about 8 o'clock we had breakfast at one of these.

I would have liked to stop at Mosquito Plains to have a look round, but on account of the change of landlords the hotel was topsy-turvy, and I did not care for the woman I saw there. I was disappointed, for I knew that I would have to wait at Robe till the wool-dray came with my things, and there are some very interesting caves near Mosquito Plains, which is now called "Narracoorte."

We arrived at Kingston and drove at once to the Kingston Hotel, which was kept by an ex-trooper from Adelaide. To my astonishment a nicely-dressed little blackgirl met me at the door. She came to see what I wanted. She was about 12 or 13 years old, and was the only female attendant in the hotel. I was a little upset, but I thought that I must not be too particular for one night, so I told her I would like some tea. She brought me quite a nice cup of tea on a tray and told me that the master would come and see me soon.

Presently the landlord came in. He was evidently in difficulties. He told me that his wife had been dead two months, and his sister had been keeping house for him; but that, owing to the sickness of his little son, she had to take the boy away to his grandmother. He said she would return on the following day. I asked if there was no other white woman about the place. He answered—"Yes, there is one; but she is ill in bed: and I am at my wit's end." I asked if I could see her, as, being a working-girl myself, I thought I might do something for her. The man was much agitated and replied—"Yes. She is a married woman and has been in my employ for six weeks. She had a baby this morning."

He led me through a long billiard-room and a kitchen, where some black-gins were sitting round a fire smoking, into a little back-room in the yard. There lay the poor woman and her face lit up with joy to see another white woman. I soon learned her story, which was like that of many other wanderers. Her husband had gone away to look for work, and had forgotten to come back. I sympathised with her trouble and did what I could for her that night.

On enquiry I learned that there was a doctor staying at the hotel. He was attending to several men, who were suffering from ophthalmia after shearing. But my sympathy was all with that weak woman and the dear, little baby. I learned, also, that there were only a few white women in Kingston.