28 March 1935

WHEN THE COACHES RAN TO MANNUM 

A Girl's Travelling Adventures On The Murray Forty Years Ago

About 40 years ago I was an under teacher in a small school a few miles from Adelaide, and having passed the examination necessary to obtain a position as a provisional teacher, I was impatiently awaiting an appointment. 

I took many trips to the local post office only to be disappointed. However, at last the longed-for official envelope was handed out to me, and its contents scanned eagerly. The department wished to know whether I would be prepared to take change of a school on the River Murray. 

I might just as well have been asked if I would care to take one at Timbuctoo, for the River Murray above Mannum 40 years ago was almost an unknown country to people living in the metropolitan area, and for that matter it was so to most people living In Australia, excepting for the few settlers— mostly farmers and fishermen—living along its banks and adjacent country. 

I made enquiries everywhere, but could find no one who had ever heard of the place where the school was, let alone being able to tell me how to get there. 

My parents were very doubtful whether to give their consent to my going or not, but I eventually overcame their scruples and wrote to the Education Department accepting the position and asking for information about the route. I was advised to take the mail coach to Mannum and to travel from there by the mail conveyance. 

My fathers' anxiety increased as the time for my departure drew near. The idea of launching a girl of 18 years into a country almost unknown to any of us seemed to him too risky, and he finally decided that mother should accompany me, as he himself was unable to get away. I had no qualms of my own and was all eagerness to get away. And so began the first of many trips to and from the school, for I spent six years there. 

The first trip was, of course, the most exciting one, as everything was new to me. Even the rumbling and shaking of the mail coach did not damp my ardor, but mother was very weary of it all, as at about 10.30 that some night we stepped, dusty and tired, from the coach after a 50-mile ride over a rough metal road. We were very thankful to partake of a good substantial meal provided by the then only hotel in Mannum. 

On making enquiries from the proprietor of the hotel we learned that a buggy carrying the mails would leave for upriver at six o'clock the following morning. We slept very soundly that night, and were up betimes next morning waiting in front of the hotel for the mail buggy, and I shall never forget the look on mother's face as a contraption of sorts came rattling up to the door. 

It was a decrepit four-wheeler tied up here, there and everywhere with wire and string, and drawn by two miserable-looking horses. The driver was in keeping with the turnout. There could have been no mail bandits on those roads, or I am sure the temptation to rob would have been too great, seeing what a feeble resistance the old driver would have been able to put up. I believe he carried a pistol with him, but so far as I know, be never had occasion to use it. 

About nine o'clock we stopped at a farmhouse for breakfast, and then went on again without incident other than leaving the mails at their appointed places along the track, until we arrived at a small post-office and wine shanty combined on the opposite side of the river to our destination, but in sight of the schoolhouse. We were informed that someone from the opposite side of the river would be crossing for the mall shortly, and that no doubt we would be taken back with them in the boat. 

After a short wait, a girl was noticed coming across the river in a rowing boat. She procured her mail, and we were then introduced to her as the 'new teacher and her mother.' She invited us to cross the river with her, explaining that the school teacher always lived with them. 

The boat was long and narrow, more suitable for racing than for carrying passengers, each seat being capable of accommodating only one person, and we stepped out on the opposite bank with feelings of relief, only to face a wall of cliff that at first sight seemed unscaleable and about 150 ft. high. 

On looking closer we noticed a sloping track cut out in steps from top to bottom, down which several cattle were beginning to make their way to the river for water. We waited until the last one had left the track and then began to make the ascent ourselves. I distinctly remember the fear I had of perhaps meeting a belated animal coming down the track on top of me. When we arrived at the top, yellow dust up to our knees, mother gasped, 'You will come straight back with me child. I'll not leave you in such a God-forsaken place.' 

However, the farmhouse was only about 50 yards from the top of the cliff and the people were very kind to us. They served us a beautifully cooked tea, and gave us a nice clean bed to sleep in, so that by Sunday night, when mother had to leave with the minister, who offered to take her back with him as far as Mannum, she was much more contented to leave me than either of us had anticipated. 

The journey home for the Christmas holidays proved quite uneventful, but going back again I had to face the trip with the same decrepit outfit as before, with two male passengers added. As these was only one seat, the men took turns in standing on the axle at the back and holding on to the back of the seat, which must have been a most uncomfortable position, especially over such rough roads. I did not like the idea of the trip one bit, but as there was no other way of getting to my destination in time to open school on Monday morning, I was forced to go. 

All went well for some time, the three men doing everything in their power to make me comfortable; but, at first surreptitiously, and later quite openly, they began to drink 'pinky' from a bottle. This at first only made them unnecessarily polite— a drink from the bottle being almost insisted upon, and, of course, most determinedly refused, which made them pretend that their feelings were hurt. I had not much fear of them while they remained in the jocular stage, but wondered fearfully how many more bottles they might have under the seat. However, no more bottles appeared, and I began to breathe again. 

I had serious thoughts of staying behind at the next place of call, but as the men still seemed to be good humored I decided to go on, as we were on the last lap. Unfortunately for me, about two or three miles further on another bottle came to light. Then the men began to argue and quarrel, and in the midst of this the horses swerved off the track and one wheel sank into a rabbit burrow. This sobered them up a bit and they began profuse apologies to me. We all had to alight to enable them to dig the wheel out, and in doing so I dropped my purse, which one of the men promptly picked up and put in his pocket, saying, that as I was apparently unable to take care of it, he would. 

When the wheel had been dug out, another bottle was produced, which made them more quarrel some than ever, and the rest of the journey was made under very unpleasant conditions. I was intensely relieved to find that we were nearing our journey's end, and that I could, if necessary, find my way on foot to the combination wine-shanty and post office, which seemed to me to be a perfect haven of refuge. 

When we arrived there I had to ask the postmaster to get my purse for me, as the man who had commandeered it had retired to the wine shanty part of the building. He was most indignant when asked for it, having quite forgotten that he had taken it. He thought that he was being accused of theft. 

Very soon after this the old mail buggy service was cut out, and the mails were carried by steamer. On my third trip up something happened to the wheel of the coach, which delayed us for several hours, so that we arrived in Mannum somewhere about 1 a.m. There were three other girl teachers and myself on this trip, and as repeated knocking at the hotel door failed to rouse anyone, we decided to spend the remainder of the night in a big wheat shed near the wharf. Needless to say, we did not get any sleep, the bags of wheat proving very hard beds. Also a great deal of squeaking and rustling at the other end of the shed made us fear mice, or even rats, but in the way that youth has we extracted quite a lot of fun out of the incident. 

Our trip up the river the next day on a paddle steamer quite compensated us for the inconvenience of the night before. I had many delightful trips on various river steamers; the only drawback to them being their inability to travel to any fixed time, if they did not pass during the day, one had to wait through the night on the river bank, with a fire to attract their attention. 

On one of these trips down the river another girl teacher and myself were landed on the Mannum wharf about 1 a.m., and as the coach left for Adelaide two hours later, there was no thing for us to do but to wait around till that time. 

The night was bitterly cold, so we had to keep walking or we would have been frozen. I remember how loudly our footsteps sounded to the empty street. We were not brave enough to leave the main street and get out on to the road, so just had to loiter around trying to make as little noise as possible. Any little thing seemed to amuse us, and we were just in the middle of classifying the voices of the now lustily crowing roosters—-one I remember was a deep-throated bass and another a wonderfully high-pitched tenor— when we heard a dog's deep-throated growl close behind us, and, hastily turning, we saw what seemed to us a very savage dog. 

Of course, we took our heels, but the dog kept close behind my companion, who was carry a fair-sized Murray Cod in a basket much too small for it, the head being out on one side and the tail on the other. The dog kept trying to get at the fish, but as it was wrapped in a sugar bag he was unable to do so. His growls became more menacing, so my friend dropped the basket and we fled to a safe distance. The dog did a terrific lot of worrying and growling, and after about a quarter of an hour he retired satisfied to his own back-yard. 

Waiting till he was well out of sight, we cautiously approached the basket. We found the fish not too much damaged, and, as the coach had just rumbled up to the front of the hotel, we grabbed the basket and made a bee-line for it, falling on the seats in fits of laughter. I think we were both feeling slightly hysterical— the dog, the fish, and the hour proving a little too much for us. 

On another trip down to Mannum on a steamer I was left stranded on the wharf about midnight, and unfortunately this time I had no companion. A young deckhand coming off for the night offered to carry my luggage to the hotel, an offer I most gladly accepted, although I had very little hope of getting in at that hour. Repeated knockings at the door having failed to rouse anyone, and as I had about three hours to wait for the coast, the lad advised me to walk about a quarter of a mile out of the town to where the coach was standing on the side of the road waiting in readiness for the journey. 

The cottage nearby was the coachman's home, but I was not sure of that at the time. I decided to take the lad's advice to get in the coach and lie down on the seat till morning, but just as I had my hand on the handle of the door I thought I heard a movement inside. My thoughts flew to a tramp at once, and neither love nor money would have made me enter that coach. 

Leaving my heavy luggage standing on the side of the road, I went to the door of the cottage and knocked loudly, promising myself that if a woman answered I would explain who I was and ask for admittance, but that if a man answered I would run for my life. 

In answer to my knock came a bass 'Who's, that?' and true to my promise and my sex, I fled and hid behind a large bush growing by the roadside, from where I could watch the door. It did not open, and after a while my heart stopped thumping quite so hard. I gave up the thought of getting shelter, and settled down to spend the last hour of my wait at the foot of the bush wrapped up in my coat and rug. The night was brilliantly light and everything was rimmed with frost, so that, by the time the coachman made his appearance. I was almost frozen. I explained the situation to him, and he insisted that I should come into the cottage, where his wife gave me a deliciously hot breakfast, for which I was indeed grateful. 

There was only one other trip out of the many I made during my six years on the river on which anything out of the usual course of events happened, and I was really more frightened over the adventures of that trip than over any of the preceding ones. In my other adventures a spice of humor had entered, but in this one there was only room for fear and pity. 

When the coach stopped at a road side post-office to collect and deliver the mail bags, I noticed a policeman in uniform standing beside a tall, gaunt woman. She was poorly dressed in a patched print frock with a white apron, but all her clothes were beautifully clean. The officer in a quiet, kindly voice told her to get into the coach, which she obediently did, seating herself just inside the door. The policeman entered after her and seated himself directly opposite, after having made particularly sure that the door was fastened securely. I was the only other passenger in the coach and was seated at the far end. 

At the first glance I could see that the poor woman was mentally deranged but was in no way violent. She fidgeted about a good deal and seemed unable to settle down, and the officer, evidently understanding the case, said kindly, 'Lie down on the seat if you like.' She immediately availed herself of his permission, and for a time the restlessness left her; but after a while she noticed that a bit of white stocking was showing between her skirt and the top of her laced boot and evidently the sight of it offended her sense of modesty, for she immediately began picking up her skirt and giving it a quick throw back until she at last managed to cover up the offending bit of stocking. 

I tried hard to keep looking in an other direction, but try as I would, I could not keep my eyes from straying in the woman's direction. She was munching away at a small piece of dry bread, which, when she saw me looking, was hastily stuffed into the front of her dress. I tried again to keep my eyes glued to the passing scenery, but once again they went back to her as a needle to a magnet. She was again munching at her crust, and this time showed her annoyance at my watching by making a half lunge in my direction, but the policeman intervened with a stern word, and she sank quietly back on the seat. I do not think that she intended to hurt me, but just to give me a hint to mind my own business. 

Anyway, if that was what she meant, the hint was most effective, for I kept my eyes steadily away from her till the next stopping place, where the officer left us alone for a few minutes, saying as he left us, 'Don't be alarmed, she's not at all dangerous.' Just imagine my feelings! I did not dare look at her for fear of arousing her anger, so could not tell if she was preparing to make a spring at me. All I could do was to trust to my hearing and a half glimpse of her dress. 

Fortunately she did not make the slightest movement or I am sure that I would have screamed. Needless to say, the few minutes we were alone was an agony of time, although I am quite sure now that my alarm was needless; the policeman would not have left us had there been any danger, but I have always been troubled with a too vivid imagination.

— 'Ay Gee.' 

A Campfire Ghost 

The following experience befell an old identity of Robe during his young days. At that time there were thousands of kangaroos is the South-East. 

The man concerned was camped out kangarooing at an isolated spot which, according to native lore, was haunted by an evil spirit, which dwelt in a nearby cave. The kangaroo shooter, however, was not superstitious, and pitched his tent within a few yards of the cave, which he used as a store house for his skins.

Late one afternoon he mixed up a damper, and, having placed the dough in his camp oven, he raked a few coals to one side of the fire, and stood the oven on them. He then shovelled a few more coals on to the lid of the oven, and, taking his gun, left the damper to cook.  During a long walk he shot several kangaroos, and, having skinned them, returned to camp shortly after dusk had fallen. 

To his surprise he found there was a visitor seated by the few glowing embers, which were all that remained of the campfire. By the dim light of a pale new moon he could just make out a strange, squat figure, dressed in white. On its head was a large, broad-brimmed hat. 

While he stood rooted to the spot, a slight gust of wind caused the few dying embers of the fire to glow brightly for a second, and he saw that the unearthly thing was horribly mis-shapen. As he stood staring, the stories he had heard concerning the place being haunted ran through his mind. For an instant he was tempted to flee, but, being a man of great courage, he checked the impulse and decided to take a firm stand. 

'Who are you? What do you want?' he cried shakily. There was no answer, and the figure did not move. 'Get out or, by heavens, I'll shoot!' cried the camp owner. But still there was no reply, and the intruder did not budge. Without wasting further words, the trembling shooter raised his gun and emptied both barrels into the 'spook.' 

When the smoke had cleared away the figure still sat there in just the same position. Realising that even 'spooks' will generally make some kind of a move when shot at with a gun, the camp owner was more mystified than ever. He began to wonder whether he could possibly be the victim of a practical joke, but, on account of the isolation, decided that this was most unlikely.

Finally, curiosity getting the better of fear, he walked close up and examined the strange thing. The explanation was simple. The damper which he had left, cooking by the side of the fire had risen to such an extent that it had lifted the lid of the camp oven several feet in the air. The lid, perched on top of the bread, formed the hat on the strange figure. 

Contrary to what might be expected, the bread wasn't particularly light. There were two heavy charges of shot in it.— A.H.B.