27 April 1933

LOOKING BACKWARD

What It Cost To Live

The history of South Australia abounds in incidents of pioneering pluck, which often meant privation and peril. Many stories are told of the early days on Kangaroo Island which has rightly been termed the cradle of South Australia.

Cradle Of South Australia.

— Kingscote, as the first official settlement on Kangaroo Island, must always contain much of interest to the general public. It was named after Sir Henry Kingscote, who was appointed a director of the South Australian Company on October 15, 1835. He was also the first chairman of the board of directors of the South Australian Banking Company.

In 1883 a new township was surveyed by Messrs. Saunders & Packard, immediately to the south of Beare's Point (now known as Snakes Point), and was named Queenscliff. Later, owing to the influence of Messrs. Arthur Daw, S. Hudson, and other early settlers the old name was restored.

The busiest part of Kingscote onward from 1836 was close to Reeves Point, named after Augustus Reeves, one of the early postmasters.

The whole corner where the mulberry tree now stands was at that time covered with stables, blacksmith shop, and other buildings. On the road leading past the old cemetery was a row of houses called 'German Row.'

On a point further along the Shoal Bay beach was a flagstaff. The site was known afterwards as Flagstaff Hill.

The old mulberry tree planted some time in 1837 is all that is left of an orchard planted by Mr. Menge, South Australia's first geologist. [See also https://www.kipioneers.org/newsletters/historical-news/the-old-mulberry-tree ]. In 1835 he was offered the Chair of Professor of Hebrew and Greek at Oxford University at a salary of £1,000 per annum. He refused this offer to accept a post with the South Australian Company as mineralogist at a salary of £200 per annum.

He was commissioned by Mr. McLaren (second manager for the company) to find water at Kingscote. In this he failed but soon after he left the island water was found in front of the cottage he had inhabited. Menge resigned owing to a disagreement with McLaren, and went to the Barossa district, where he lived in a hollow tree.

Provisions were very expensive in these early days. Flour cost £120 a ton (£12 a bag), mutton 2/6 a pound, butter 5/ a pound, and bread 2/ to 2/3 for a two-pound loaf. A small joint of pork cost £1 7/ and peas 5/ a peck. Rice boiled to a pulp was mixed with the flour to make it go further, and until water was discovered at Kingscote it had to be brought across by boat from the Bay of Shoals.— Wynnis J. Hughes, Wisanger.

Accommodating Digestion.

— Years ago we had a blackboy working for us whose ways were amusing. He would eat practically any thing, and make no fuss about it. If we pulled a lettuce, and gave it to him, he would push it into his mouth, roots, dirt, and all, laughing at our exclamations of horror at he chewed it.

He was given permission to gather any eggs he required for his own use. Often he would throw half a dozen in his camp fire at once and let them harden in the coals. Then he would retrieve one, peel off the shell and put it in his mouth. After a bite or two he would commence on the next.

Once a friend of ours, wishing to play a joke on him, bought some chocolate creams, scooped the centres out of two, and filled them with soap. He proposed a 'sweet eating race' with Old Ben. They each had a good sweet to start with, after which the soap-filled ones were passed to Ben. These vanished as quickly as the first one. On being asked how he liked them, he serenely replied, with his face all aglow, and his mouth all afroth, 'My word, boss, me likem them fellars; them yardoo.'— D. B. McLeod, Buckleboo.

'After The Ball.'

— Decked with wildflowers, wattle, plumes, helio hopbush sprays, ruddy quandongs, and illuminated by Chinese lanterns, the old woolshed tucked away in a valley, surrounded by rolling hills, was transformed into a bower of bliss.

Sturdy, sweating station horses brought enthusiasts from neighboring towns and distant sheep and cattle stations for the annual ball. The floor liberally treated with sawdust and sperm, though far from perfect, made dancing not only possible but enjoyable.

The many mishaps, the polished surface, caused to unwary bushmen only added to the gaiety.

The dancing done, everyone agreed it was a great success. Sleeping accommodation was at a premium. But bushfolk are resourceful, and most of them, having brought their own beds, settled down in odd corners to spend what little time remained of the night in slumber.

Fitz and Mac having had a glorious night were allotted a double bed in the woolshed (after pledging each other in a nightcap), they 'turned in' and were soon asleep. Immediately overhead was a travelling crane, used for shifting wool-bales. Some of their friends fastened the bed to this and hoisted it several feet in the air.

Mac awoke in the night with a terrible thirst. Remembering the unfinished bottle and anxious about disturbing his friend, he crept cautiously from the bed and fell crashing to the 'floor,' taking the bedclothes with him.

Fitz (awakened with a start) besought the world to tell him "What had dropped?"

A piteous voice from a long way off begged him to "Light the candle. Don't get out this side," adding, "someone left the door open and I have fallen down the cellar."

Acting on this advice Fitz jumped out from his side of the bed to join his companion on the ground. Fearing further mishaps in the dark they cuddled up in the bedclothes, which, luckily, Mac had brought with him, till daylight revealed the trick that had been played on them.— 'R.J.G.,' Adelaide.

Wouldn't Face The Music

— When the hotels were opened until 11 p.m. many hectic days — and nights too — were spent in Cowell.

One day a commercial traveller arrived in the town and soon made the acquaintance of a certain 'Billy,' the village wag. After a convivial evening together their thoughts turned to supper, and where to procure it. The eating-houses had long since dosed.

Presently a bright idea struck Billy. He advised his companion to follow him. saying, 'I'm tracking a tart up here. I'll get you something to eat.' Reaching a house they entered cautiously, and Billy prepared a sumptuous repast.

Just as they were about to commence he exclaimed, 'Great Scott! they're coming! Let's run.' The vendor of rags fled, leaving behind a perfectly good overcoat, which he never returned to claim. Incidentally the 'tart' whom 'Billy' was tracking was his wife, and the house his own, but 'Billy' wasn't game to face the music— 'Peggotty,' Cowell.

A Live Wire.

— That a good story will outlive its characters is exemplified by the following tale of a humorous incident which occurred at Robe many years ago.

A local landholder was riding along a line of his fence, which passed through a clump of stunted scrub. He noticed a break in one of the wires, and dismounted to repair it. On examination he was surprised to find that the wire had been freshly cut through with a file.

While he was mentally digesting the matter, the farmer was astounded to see the wire give a few preliminary wriggles and then commence to slip away through the post-holes. With visions of losing his wire altogether, the farmer grabbed the end and, bracing his feet against a post, he hung on as though his life depended on it. After several hearty tugs the wire gave up the attempt at escape, and the farmer, tied the end round a post end sat back to await events.

Presently there was a rustling in the scrub, and one of his neighbors came trotting back along the fence to see where the wire had caught. The landholder was so amused that after he had made the neighbor replace several other wires which had been removed he did not take any further action.— A.H.B., Halton Gardens.

Snake in a Gun Barrel.

— A hair-raising incident happened to two young men camped at Carpenter's Rocks a few weeks ago. The sea had been rough, and the fish bait-shy. So they decided to try their hand at duck shooting. They were away all the afternoon, and never fired a shot.

Very dejected, they made their way back to camp. Andy, who was in the lead, when near the camp, stepped over a small snake. The snake made a rush at his heels, and Andy, turning, put his gun barrel against the snake's head just as Bill, coming along behind, trod on the snake's tail.

The snake, put off its balance, crawled up the gun barrel. Shake the gun how they would, they could not dislodge the reptile. Bill wanted to fire the gun off, but Andy was afraid the barrel would 'bust.' Neither was game to take the cartridge out for fear of getting bitten.

At last they took the cork from their tea bottle and jammed it in the end of the barrel and reached camp with the snake still imprisoned. All efforts to poke it out with the cleaning-rod failed.

At last they procured some boiling water and poured it into the gun. This enlivened the snake so much that the gun was dropped, and the snake disappeared over the cliff into the sea.— J. A. Dow, Glencoe East.

'Lambing Down' His Cheque.

— Many a man has left Adelaide for the northern stations with the intention of returning at the end of 12 months or so with a good cheque, only to spend his earnings at the end of the year at the first hotel or sly grog shop he meets after leaving the station.

One well-known identity was always sure of a welcome from the licensees of these dwellings. Not wishing to divulge his correct name; we will call him 'Sandy.'

The licensee of a sly grog house was delighted one evening to see Sandy arriving at his door, and the thirsty one received a most effusive welcome. 'Sandy' dramatically produced a bulging wallet from his pocket, and placing it in the hands of the licensee said, "Now. M——, take this wallet and place it in your safe. I know you are an honest man, and that is the reason I prefer to spend my cheque here. It's good money, and I want the best your house can give me, both in drink and food. When I wish to return I will ask you for my wallet, and I can settle with you, otherwise I would probably lose it by keeping it in my pocket." The licensee expressed himself as only too pleased to place the wallet and its contents in his safe till Sandy had recovered from his 'spree.'

After several drinks and an excellent tea, Sandy was pressed to occupy a comfortable bedroom during his stay. This he refused to do, giving as his reason that he always camped out, and so was much more comfortable. Taking a bottle of the best whisky for company, 'Sandy' settled down to rest under a tree some distance from the dwelling.

Next morning he was missing from the breakfast table. When 9 o'clock came and still Sandy had not arrived for his breakfast, an anxious search was organised. Meeting an Aboriginal they began to question him. To the consternation of the licensee, the native replied that "Him white feller walk about longa fore daybreak."

Hurrying home, the licensee went to his safe, and, hastily opening the wallet Sandy had left in his possession, found it contained a dirty old sock. Sandy had spent his cheque higher up the road, and had thought out this ruse for a few days' extra spree. — 'M.J.B.,' Macclesfield.

Real Life Stories Of South Australia. (1933, April 27). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 16. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article90898064