First thing to record is the news of the visitors we have had on board the Buffalo.
In the evening of the 28th, whilst God alone knows what drunken excesses were enacted onshore, some the crew of the Buffalo managed to bring some natives on board. At first the natives refused their invitation, no doubt fearing the worst, but when some of the crew offered to stay with the natives "as hostages" (they said; although truth to tell, I think they were just, as my daughter would say "having a nosey") two or three older natives plucked up courage and allowed themselves to be rowed out to the ship. By the time I arrived back from the Proclamation Ceremony the crew had become best of friends with these men, who were, in all probability, chiefs of the tribe.
My cabin had been raided and a bottle of wine procured and the crew were playing the concertina and teaching the natives the words to a number of bawdy songs.
Being inexperienced in the ways of the grape, the wine took greater effect on the natives than was expected, but they left the ship well pleased with us, with themselves and with life in general, though how they felt the next morning I did not hear.
Then, the marines went on shore this afternoon with the boat to collect supplies and whilst there noticed one of the natives - a young man of perhaps twenty five or so - coming close to inspect them. For all their faults the Marines are a friendly bunch and before long, through signs and gestures, a few grunts and smiles, they had stuck up a friendship with the man. As is the natives' way he was completely naked, so the marines came up with the idea of giving him some clothing. Of course the spare clothing was back on board the ship, one thing led to another and before you could say knife the men had the native quite happily in the boat coming alongside.
When I saw what was happening I went down to greet him and between the Marines and myself we gave him a pair of trousers and a military jacket. My sister Anne suggested that we should leave him be as nature intended and not to dress him on her account, but I rather thought not.The jacket had yellow cuffs, which seemed to please our guest no end.
We were unable to ascertain the man's name. The native tongue seems, to English ears, a gentle and rolling lilt of a language, but it is hard to even identify individual words. For all I know he may have been telling us his name all afternoon and wondering why were such dolts. And certainly when I told him, in my kindest tones, "You may address me as either "Captain Hindmarsh" or "Your Excellency" " I saw not a flicker of understanding on his part.
I gave him a guided tour of the Buffalo and he was wide eyed with astonishment the whole time. Quite clearly he had never seen anything like it. Each time we opened a door or lifted a hatch he gave a cry of amazement and had a grin go from ear to ear, so he was quite obviously enjoying himself hugely.
After this it was time for our evening meal and we made it clear that he was welcome to stay for it. Since he managed to put away a pie, salt beef, jellied tongue, baked fish and plum pudding I vouchsafe to suggest that he enjoyed himself here too. We were surprised to see that after only brief coaching from my daughters he managed a knife and fork at least as well as young Johnny - possibly better.
After dinner he stayed on and listened to Susan attempt to play some modern bollocks called "Schubert" on the piano. Since Susan does tend to play with youthful enthusiasm rather than talent I am not sure what impression he gained of the pianoforte, or indeed of modern music, but he seemed too polite to run from the room in dismay. (I am always restrained from doing so by patrial duty.) Still, I venture to say that if you have never heard a pianoforte - or indeed any European musical instrument - you are hardly in a position to draw a distinction between the good and the bad.
At the end of the evening we put him back in the boat and rowed him ashore where he hugged the marines and then disappeared off into the night.
Heaven only knows what stories he told his friends and family when he returned to them. If we could but see ourselves through the eyes of others....
But I might suggest, a good start to relations between the natives and ourselves and long may it continue.
I must say that I suddenly find myself a slightly wealthier man than I was last Sunday. Before we left England the South Australian Company set the price of land in the new colony at 17/6 an acre and then added (bless them) "with the price to rise to 20/- an acre on the arrival of the Governor in the Colony of South Australia".
Which means that when my ten tiny toes hit the sand at Holdfast Bay land prices jumped by two shillings and sixpence.
Now if, like me, you bought about 300 acres back when the price was twelve shillings an acre, then my feet on the sand meant a considerable profit. I am about one hundred and twenty pounds to the good and other colonists who were early buyers find themselves similarly enriched. Was there ever a more profitable walk on the beach?
I have discovered a fairly understandable reason for the state in which we found Mr Gouger's tent on Wednesday. It seems that Gouger was a bachelor gay at the time, Mrs Gouger having been indisposed for several days previously. In fact she was delivered of a son in the early hours of the 29th, so it seems churlish to complain that she had left the dishes uncleared and the beds unmade.
To her credit Mrs Gouger (her husband tells me) tried to keep her cries of pain and agony to a minimum during the Council meeting - she was, it seems, in the tent next door - and later, despite the pangs of childbirth, remained almost silent during the reading of the Proclamation, which shows a thoroughly decent and respectful spirit on her part, it seems to me.
I am much gratified by the Gougers' request that I stand as Godfather to the child which request I shall, naturally, accede to.
On Thursday Mrs Hindmarsh expressed a desire to go and view the site that Colonel Light has in mind for the new settlement. First we needed to get the donkeys ashore so that we could ride them up to meet the Colonel at his campsite.
I am unsure as to whose idea it was that Mrs Hindmarsh and I share the boat with the donkeys as they came ashore, but suffice it to say it was not entirely a success. Donkeys, it seems, do not have the sense to stand still as their are rowed ashore in a dinghy. They seemed to think they were a part of the corps de ballet at Covent Garden and performed les grande jetes from one side of the dinghy to the other. They also seemed unaware of the decencies regarding movements of the bowels in public and the boat seemed in real danger of being filled to the gunwhales. Moreover, I suspect Charlie Howard has been preaching at them because they certainly knew of Isaiah 16:11 "Wherefore my bowels shall sound like an harp for Moab, and mine inward parts for Kirharesh."
What with filling the boat with turds, passing farts of a biblical nature and dancing the mazurka, the donkeys were not good company. The boat rocked violently as a result of their exertions and I am sorry to record that Mrs Hindmarsh was thrown out into the water. Well, I say I am sorry, but in point of fact I thought it quite amusing. What I am sorry to say is that I lacked the good sense not to laugh. Fortunately she was only waist deep in the surf, and in no danger of drowning, but possibly in danger of an apoplectic seizure. I knew then, and was later proved right, that I would pay for my amusement as the day went forward.
The marines waiting on shore were quick to rush to her aid, but it did not help Mrs Hindmarsh's mood when one of them attempted a touch of levity as they assisted her to the beach by observing that "There wasn't room for you and your ass in the boat, ma'am."
Oh dear.
Fortunately the morning was sunny and Mrs Hindmarsh's clothing dried out quickly. Actually, it could have been snowing in Aberdeen and the fire from Mrs Hindmarsh's fury and rage would have dried her clothes out in a trice, but let that by. We were soon mounted on the donkeys and on our way.
However, the upset in the boat, my unfortunate laughter and the Marine's subsequent comment had put Mrs Hindmarsh in a dark state of mind. She was practically silent - never a good sign - as we followed the trail that had been marked out and by the time we met with Colonel Light it was clear that she was not in any mood to be pleased by anything.
The Colonel showed us some of the features of the site and explained the advantages of the river, which even in this heat still had pools of water, the wide flat prospect, the availability of building stone, the availability of land for agriculture and so on and so forth.
I was impressed with his work and agreed that the site he has chosen has everything we need to make a fine start to the colony.
Except....
All the while I was aware of a dark presence standing behind me. Perhaps it would have been wiser to say "Get thee behind me Satan", but instead I was foolish enough to utter the fateful words "And what do you think of the Colonel's site my dear?"
And at that point the floodgates opened and Mrs Hindmarsh, who had been ominously silent all morning, launched a tirade of invective and abuse such as Light, I imagine, has rarely heard.
"This site", she said, "has no views. It does not thrill, There is no poetry about it, no beauty."
"Only half witted men would think that such a barren place might do," she said.
"It is too far from the sea and lacks the smell of the ozone that makes such a necessary impression on the soul. But coarse fools such as you would not appreciate such things, would you?" she said.
"These excuses for hills are ludicrously small and will not do at all. Not to mention that they are too far away from where you propose to live. They simply disappoint," she said.
Then, getting her second wind, she got going well and truly.
"What you are pleased to call the river is little more than a stream choked with weeds and does not impress," she said.
"The trees are stunted, spindly, silly things that offer no shade and shelter and will need replacing with oaks and elms," she said.
"The site we saw at Boston Bay was far superior. It not only thrilled, it resonated! Such views, such a prospect, such soulful poetry! The ozone there was thick enough to cut with a knife. Unlike this place, the bay did not disappoint," she said.
And then, with a final, withering glance at Light, she demanded, "What, if anything, were you thinking when you decided to inflict this sad and sorry excuse for a site on us?"
It was, to be sure, an awkward moment.
If the ride to visit Light was silent, the back to Holdfast Bay was noisy indeed. Mrs Hindmarsh has made it clear that she expects me to challenge the siting of the colony and have it moved to Boston Bay and I suspect that I may need to. Yes, the Commissioners will complain and whisper about me behind my back, but Mrs Hindmash is able to lecture me from any angle.
I summoned Light to the Buffalo yesterday and explained the situation to him and he informed me that he had determined that the new colony would be on the site he had chosen.
SO... fun lies ahead.
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