The furniture and internal arrangements of our shanty are more simple in construction than elegant in appearance. We go in for utility, and not for show. As a central feature is the table. It is our pride and glory, that table, for it was made in Auckland, and imported by us from Helensville. It is the one piece of furniture we possess that displays an art superior to our own. Solid, strong and large, made of stout kauri wood, it has borne a great deal of rough usage, and is capable of bearing a great deal more.
Besides all the customary uses to which a table may be put, this article of ours fulfils even another purpose. It comes in very handy sometimes as a bedstead. I have known two men to sleep upon it on occasions; its breadth being considerable. For a long time it went by the name of O'Gaygun's four-poster, that gentleman having a predilection for sleeping on it. He is a huge, bony Irishman, and somewhat restless in his sleep. Accordingly, it was no unusual thing for him to roll off the table in the night, and descend upon the floor with considerable uproar. This was got over by inverting the table at night, and making him recline on the inside of it, with the legs sticking up around him. He does not like this position, though, for he says the rats run across him all night.
Chairs we have none, except two curious contrivances belonging to the Saint and the Little'un. We use empty kegs and boxes, sawn logs set up on end, and the sides of our bunks, when we sit at table. When at our ease and our tobacco, we either recline in our bunks, or sit on the edge of the floor opening into the chimney-place.
The two curious contrivances alluded to are styled armchairs by their manufacturers, and somewhat remarkable objects they are. The Saint's is made out of the section of a cask set up on four legs. It possesses a fifth leg, or outrigger at the back, and has cushions of flour-bags, stuffed with turkey's feathers. The owner doubtless finds it to his mind, but he has to guard against leaning to either side, or collapse is always the consequence.
The other armchair is the Little'un's. Now, this young gentleman, though the most youthful of our party, is by no means the least. He is, in fact, six feet six inches in height, and is of broad and muscular build. His private seat is therefore of the ponderous kind. At first sight it would seem to be of immense strength, since it is made of heavy stakes, cut in the adjoining bush. These are abundantly jointed with bars and bolts of the same solid and substantial kind; the seat and back being composed of sacking. But, in spite of the apparent power displayed by this fabrication, disastrous accidents are continually happening. The Little'un has no inborn genius for joinery.
Sometimes it has happened that, as we sat at a meal, a loud crack would be heard, some part of his throne would give way, and the Little'un would disappear from view. Shouts of laughter from the rest. Old Colonial, in high delight, would proceed to show how cleverly the Little'un had adapted his armchair to his exact weight; and how it was unable to support the addition of the great load of victuals which that individual had unthinkingly stowed away. The Little'un would arise silent and perplexed; and, by-and-by, we would find him deeply pondering over the manufacture of his scaffolding, and probably shaping another small tree with his axe to add to it.
The most important items of the shanty's plenishing are the bunks and beds. The former are made in this way, having been constructed by the carpenter at the township. A simple folding trestle at head and foot supports two parallel bars. Across these is stretched and nailed stout canvas. Each of us has one of these bedsteads, which are very convenient in the limited dimensions of our shanty, for they can be folded and stacked out of the way when necessary.
The beds themselves are curiously fabricated. Old potato-sacks, flour-bags, and the like have been utilized. The stuffing is of fern, feathers, mounga, and sundry other matters. Each of us has two or more blankets, which, I regret to say, are a trifle frowsy as a rule. O'Gaygun's call for special remark.
This descendant of Hibernian kings is content to undergo even greater inconveniences than he necessarily need do, since he has determined to make his fortune in the shortest possible space of time. Moreover, he professes the profoundest contempt for luxury and even comfort. He holds that almost anything civilized is an effeminacy, and out of place in the bush, where he considers that life ought to be lived in a stern and "natchral" way. He is intensely conservative in the primitive usages and habits of the roughest pioneering times, and emphatically condemns any innovations thereupon. He works with furious zeal and unflagging energy, and saves all the money he earns, generally investing it in gold-mine scrip, or something that rarely turns out well.
In the matter of blankets and bedding, the spirit of O'Gaygun's economy and self-sacrifice is apparent. His bedding is like that of all of us, except that it is less bulky—O'Gaygun asserting that a soft bed is a sin. His blankets have long been worn out; in fact, they are the mere shreds and tatters of what once were blankets. Bunk he has none. It would go against his principles to get one. If any of us is absent, O'Gaygun borrows his bunk for the time. When all are present he contents himself with the inverted table, his especial four-poster.