5 October 1933

BLACK BROTHER AND THE DUKE

'Squeelum Fellow' Disturbs The Silent Bush

A strange scene was witnessed at Lake Alexandrina in 1867, when the blacks assembled pay homage to the big Queen's 'piccaninny,' the late Duke of Edinburgh. When the Duke had the bagpipes played the natives thought he had found a new sort of 'debel debel.'

The recent reference to the steamer Queen recalls another fact concerning this vessel. It was the Queen that carried the Duke of Edinburgh across Lake Alexandrina in 1867. His Royal Highness was accompanied by a large number of military and naval officers. When the Duke landed, about four hundred Aborigines formed into two lines, through which His Royal Highness marched. Several natives carried banners. One was inscribed 'Goolwa blackfellow big one glad to see im Queen piccaninny.' Then one blackfellow, George Pontoni, read the following address:—

'Your Royal Highness — We, who are young men belonging to all the lake tribes of natives, are glad to tell you our joy at seeing you in this our country. Tonight our old men will show to your Royal Highness the corroboree, or, as we call it, Ringbalin, such as our fathers used to have before the white men came here. But we do not wish you to think that we are wild blacks because such a sight is shown to you. For seven years our tribes on this peninsula have had a Christian teacher. Nearly one hundred native children have been taught in school. Every Sunday more than fifty of us meet together to pray to the same God and hear of the same Jesus as your Royal Highness does. Some have given up native customs and become real Christians and many others are learning the way. Many of us get an honest living by working like white people. We have often been told about the Queen, your mother, and we hope and pray that God will always bless her; and may His blessings rest upon her children, especially yourself; and may He take care of you till you see your mother's face in England again.'

The Duke was greatly impressed. The natives gave a remarkable, demonstration of spear and boomerang throwing. After the evening meal the party strolled over to the blacks' camp to witness the corroboree. The Aborigines were covered in war paint and armed with waddies and spears. Their womenfolk were squatted around in the formation of a half circle. In front of each a rolled-up skin rug was placed, which they beat with a stick, at the same time singing a monotonous 'yah yah— yah yah,' to the rhythm of which the dancers went through strange contortions.

The Duke was very interested. He remained at the camp till after eleven o'clock. Feeling that it was incumbent to make some return for his remarkable entertainment, he asked his piper to bring out the bagpipes. The natives were astonished. Some of the more timid ones were frightened. It was late into the night before they had drunk their fill of the strange sounds, and it was many years before the 'squeelum fellow' was forgotten. — 'Memorabilia,' Adelaide.

Real Life Stories Of South Australia (1933, October 5). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 50. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article90950741

Mixed Bathing

I am opposed to mixed bathing. I'll tell you why.

Last summer, with a party of friends, I went to a seaport town in the South-East. The day was hot, and I decided to have a swim. That would not have been such a bad decision if I had not previously tried to assuage a hundred-in-the-shade thirst with a series of refreshers which left me feeling mightily pleased with the world in general, and full of goodwill towards my fellow men.

After floundering about in the water for a time I took a stroll along the beach. I confess it was difficult for me to distinguish men from women. That was my undoing. I came on a couple of fellows half buried in the sand.

Just as I came abreast one of them got up on all fours. As I passed him I playfully pinched his leg. Then I walked on, thinking nothing more about the incident. But the other fellow did. He grabbed me from behind.

"What do you mean, by pinching my wife?" he demanded. I looked at his wife, a long slab of a woman, with a little black moustache. "That your wife," I asked genially. '"Shouldn't have wife like that, ole feller."

With that she came at me. I took to my heels, but they caught me, and jammed me against the seawall. A crowd collected. I could have dealt with the man, but the woman violated every Marquis of Queensbury rule ever framed, and the crowd cheered her. We rolled and tumbled among tents and guy ropes.

Finally I got my man down and was sitting on him, when the woman seized me by the neck of my bathing suit. With a mighty heave she ripped the suit from my back. That settled it. Amid roars of laughter from a crowd, which had attained record dimensions I made fastest time to the dressing-shed.

After I got dressed I went back to the hotel. My friends asked me where I had been. I said I had been for a stroll. 'You missed the best scrap you ever saw," said one. "We couldn't get near enough to see who the chap was, but it was a ding-dong go. It's a pity you missed it." I didn't tell them my view was that it was a pity I hadn't.— 'Gumsucker,' Mount Gambier.

Mixed Bathing (1933, October 5). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 50. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article90950743

That Box

I certainly blessed that box. So did every man who handled it. It was always in our way. Heavy? I should think it was.

During the week it lay in the inward cargo shed on the wharf at Port Adelaide we were continually having to move it. Two men could only just shift it. No matter where we put it it was always in our way. We came to hate that box.

What was in it? No one knew, nor where it came from. So far as we could see, there wasn't an identification mark anywhere about it. It had come in as ordinary cargo, contents unknown. Some guessed horseshoes; others lead. But for its foot square size it was certainly weighty.

It had been there about a week, cursed by every man about the shed, when a boyish chap of about 21 came peering about the place. He spotted the box in a far-away corner.

'Whose box is that?' he asked, 'I don't know,' I replied, 'but the sooner I can release it with proper authority the better pleased I'll be.'

"I think it belongs to my firm,' he said. 'I'm going up to the Customs to make enquiries, and I'll see you later.'

An hour after he returned with a lorry, and an order to take possession of the box. We were glad to see it go, though it did take two of us all our time to lift it on to the lorry.

The rest of the story I heard subsequently. The box was taken to the Port station, and put in a van with an escort. 'What did it contain?' I asked. 'Gold,' was the staggering reply.

The box had somehow got astray, and an Adelaide bank had been looking for it for a week, what time it had been lying about the wharf, the object of everybody's curses. But, if some of the outsiders had only guessed what it contained I wonder what would have been its fate.— G. A. Payne, Marino Rocks.

That Box (1933, October 5). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 50. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article90950724

The Natives Saw The Pictures

A certain travelling picture show once decided to exhibit at an Aboriginal mission station. The owner fitted his equipment in the local hall in readiness for the night. His assistant arranged the back of the car as a ticket box, and settled himself for business. Just before the lights went out the proprietor came beamingly to the ticket seller.

'Almost full, George,' he said, 'she'll go a tenner.' George looked surprised. He replied, 'She won't go anywhere near a tenner, Tom. The only folk who seem to be buying tickets are the old gins.'

It was Tom's turn to look surprised. 'Nonsense, George,' he contradicted, 'the hall is almost full, and there are plenty of men and lads in the audience.' George closed his ticket box and, with the proprietor, went into the hall. Sure enough it was close on full.

'That's strange,' George muttered, and he walked down the side aisle. Presently he started back. 'Hi, Tom, look at this,' he called. Tom came close to him and looked. He saw a black, fuzzy head, followed by a black body, scramble through a tiny side window, and noiselessly slip into a seat.

Then the truth dawned on the two men. Some old native woman had paid for admittance and opened the little window for the young and agile to clamber through. The natives were just a little more cunning than they looked, and they came out well in that instance.— 'Bill Bones,' Kadina.

The Natives Saw The Pictures (1933, October 5). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 50. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article90950725

Brumbies On Kangaroo Island

Years ago Flinders Chase (K.I.) was part of Karratta sheep run. There was a small mob of brumby horses in charge of a very pretty roan stallion, running between there on the Rocky River.

The wife of the station boss was always pestering her husband to get the men to catch this stallion, and have him broken in for her use.

One day the men had to muster stray sheep in the territory where the brumbies mostly ran, and they were told to catch the stallion if they could. When the sheep work was finished they decided to go after the horse.

Two men went to find the mob, and two others rode six miles down the Rocky River, with orders to make a big smoke when the mob was found. They were to head them towards the smoke, where other men and fresh horses were waiting.

The mob was found and headed down the river. The pace was too hot for the old mares and foals, which dropped out. When the middle men picked the mob up the stallion and half a dozen young mares were still full of gallop. But the horse was captured, and in less than an hour was being led back to camp. That night he was hobbled out with the riding horses, and was to be taken to the station next day.

In the morning he could not be found, but his tracks were. They led to the river. A search revealed his body. He had been drowned when he tried to cross during the night. Two of the horses which took part in the mad gallop after the stallion were never of any use afterwards.— 'M.I.A.,' Coorabie.

Brumbies On Kangaroo Island (1933, October 5). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 50. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article90950722

One To The Parson

One of South Australia's most severe droughts was experienced in 1888, especially in the pastoral country nor'-west of Port Augusta. In November of that year, a tank on Oakden Hills known as West Oakden suddenly dried out, leaving about 10,000 young sheep almost perishing for water. It was imperative that they be transferred to the Birthday Well in the quickest possible time.

With this end in view every available person about the place was pressed into service, including a well-known travelling 'hawker,' by name Charley Crook. And last, but not least, was a minister of the gospel. His name I have forgotten. He was one of the tallest men I had seen — fully 6 ft. 6 in. I think he represented the Church of England.

After two days and a night's mustering and driving, the flocks were safely landed at their destination. Then all hands wended their way to the hawker's van for a well-earned refresher, at the manager's invitation.

At that period it was the practice for the hawker to carry a limited amount of spirits, usually labelled 'Hop Bitters.' The manager of Oakden Hills, the late J. H. ('Jackey') Beviss, was essentially a practical joker. He was bent on taking a 'rise' out of the parson. While we of the younger brigade were served with the dinkum hop bitters, by arrangement with Mr. Crook the reverend gentleman was handed a good stiff nobbler of the real stuff, Beviss remarking that he would find hop bitters a very appetising drink after his ordeal.

His parsonship was thirsty, and got away with it in one gulp. Instead of pulling a long face, as we expected, he smacked his lips and remarked, 'A very nice drop of whisky, Mr. Beviss; have another one with me.' — 'Mick D.,' Broken Hill.

One To The Parson (1933, October 5). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 50. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article90950723