Outback Penguin

by Stuart Kells

  They even remembered the old man who parades Redland with a bundle of papers and an umbrella, piping out in a squeaky voice ‘Pay-per’ – the man that Nora delights in imitating. This is yet another instance of how small the world is. They liked Bristol very much, and also the surrounding districts. They stayed at High Street when in Shirehampton.

  Sunday, 22 October 1922

  This afternoon the two Miss Fletchers gave a farewell tea. Tea (made with tinned cream), cake and a big tin of assorted biscuits. The party consisted of exactly the same people as I mentioned a couple of pages back.

  Monday, 23 October 1922

  I have got a rotten cold; it is luck to get ill the last day on the boat. I had a cough lozenge and some liniment stuff that didn’t half sting. It was called Dr Sloan’s Liniment and had quite good results. Had a rotten night – hardly slept at all – but am slightly better this morning.

  We sighted Kangaroo Island early this morning.

  There was a farewell gathering of all the apprentices last night. We were addressed by Messrs Morgan, Garvie, Tomlins and Tyler.

  Tuesday and Wednesday very busy indeed.

  ADELAIDE AND MOOROOK

  Thursday, 26 October 1922

  An Immigration Officer came on board in the pilot’s boat. Directly we landed about 6pm we were marched to the station and from thence to Adelaide and to our headquarters at Kentone Avenue. At the Outer Harbour station I met a man who had been second-in-charge of the Seaman’s Institute in Bristol for many years. He remembered the Petherams quite well when I told him they came from Bristol.

  We had quite a decent time in Adelaide. When we arrived it was raining. Mr Ryan gave us a short address, there was a roll call and Mr Morgan handed us over. There were supposed to be eighty-one bags but only eighty landed, as poor old ‘Lupy’ or ‘Luny’ – the mad boy – was not allowed to land by the medical authorities. He will go on to Sydney in the Bendigo and turn around and go back home on the same boat, hard luck. Well, as I was fairly tired I soon went to bed.

  The depot in Kentone Avenue where we stayed was an old Mounted Police Barracks.

  An old man came and brought us a slice of cake each and, in return, we wished him a very good night’s repose. I was in a dormitory containing twelve; among them were Billie Petheram, Billie Askwith and Mac. The pillows were delightfully soft after the Bendigo ones. I had a good night’s sleep and at 7am next morning we had our photograph taken. I ordered one to be sent home. I did not come out very well, but I thought you might be interested in it. We had breakfast at 7.30 and from then onwards farmers began to arrive to inspect their lads. Mac and I tried very hard to get to Millicent, but we could not arrange it. Mac was booked for Berri and I for Moorook (pronounced ‘Mer-rook’).

  Mac’s boss had come down to meet him. He is a very decent chap and offered to let me spend some weekends with Mac at Berri. He had his wife and two children with him, and he showed us around the Botanical Gardens which are very fine. We went back for dinner and afterwards went out for a walk with Mr Garvie and Billie. Just before dinner some letters were given out. I had three: one from Father, with several enclosures; one from Edith; and one from Allen, with an enclosed note from Auntie Lily. I enjoyed them all very much. When we were going out Mac met Mr Gerrard’s sister, whom he met at Long Ashton. I spoke to her and she seemed a very decent sort, although you could not tell who she was looking at. She could look at Mac and me at the same time although we stood a good way apart. We – Mr Garvie, Billie Askwith, Mac and myself – went into the town and had a good look around. I bought a hat with a very wide brim for 12/6; Mac and Billie also each bought one. I then went and saw Mr Cudmore. I received a ‘letter of introduction’ to him in the letter from home. He was very decent and offered to do anything he could for me. We met Messrs Morgan, Tyler and Tomlins and decided to have tea together. Outside the café we met Mr Spendiff – Mac’s boss – and he joined us.

  After tea, we went back to our depot where we had dinner and some speechifying afterwards. I sent home a cutting out of the paper about it. Off to bed again. Several boys had left. One left Monday night, soon after we arrived. Some more Tuesday morning, and we left at 8am on Wednesday morning. We got up before 6am and had breakfast at 6.30. Some boys had to leave soon after 7am. Billie Askwith went to Hindmarsh Island at the mouth of the Murray. I don’t know yet where Billie Petheram is. Mr Spendiff was on the same train, but not in the same carriage. A friend of his was though and we had a good time together. The train stopped at most of the stations and at two we were treated to a cup of tea by Mr Spendiff’s friend. We stopped at Morgan and had dinner there. We had a jolly fine dinner and Mr Spendiff paid for it.

  The rest of the journey (about fifty to sixty miles) I did by road. I went by a six-cylinder Studebaker. In the car was the storekeeper of Moorook. We had to cross the River Murray on a raft and we stopped at several places to deliver parcels, mail or papers. Also some passengers got out and some fresh ones got in.

  I saw several parrots and a big lizard – eighteen inches long and as fat as Nora’s arm, not very huge. All my luggage was strapped to the outside of the car. I reached my destination at about 6pm and had tea. I went to bed fairly early. I got up the next morning – Thursday morning – and did some unpacking. In the afternoon I went out with Mr King and Charlie, the son of the owner of the next settlement, and did some rabbit shooting. I had two shots and killed two rabbits.

  Friday, 27 October 1922

  Started work today. My first job was pulling shoots off vines. After dinner I went with Mr King into the bush to get some firewood. After tea I met Mac, who is a ‘Barwell Boy’, as we are called. He came out about four months ago and is quite settled down now.

  The farm is of about twenty-two acres under cultivation. Mostly grapes, about an acre of sultanas and a good many currants; also, for personal use, Mr King a few trees of apples, peaches, figs, nectarines and quinces. He has two horses, three cows, two dogs and one cat.

  Mr King is married and has two children. One is one year old and the other two years old. Their birthdays are on the same day, the day before I arrived. The farm is irrigated; the method I shall be able to explain when I see it done. I know the water is pumped up in big channels from the River Murray.

  I started work about 6am and I finish about 5pm, quite a good day’s work. I expect I shall start earlier when I am more settled down. I feel too tired to write now, so please excuse this short entry. It is not half so small as some on the boat but there is a reason for everything.

  Tuesday, 31 October 1922

  I was so busy that I could not write anything on Sunday. I just wrote ‘Sunday 29th’ when Mrs King said dinner was ready. After dinner, we got out the buggy and drove to Kingston (not Kingston on Thames but Kingston on Murray).

  My pen is dry. Mr King has just given me some ink, so off again. We went for a drive to try and get some oranges but we did not succeed, although we drove through an orange grove with plenty of oranges on the trees and a few hundred on the ground. It was fairly cold and although I had my ‘mac’ on I felt the cold. After tea I had to change and help milk the cows, and then I was very tired.

  On Saturday evening we went to Moorook, about three miles away. It is a very small place, only one shop or store and a baker’s shop. I bought a few cough lozenges as my cold has not quite gone yet. Monday, a hard day’s work.

  Wednesday, 1 November 1922

  It is not quite 5.30am and I am writing this in bed. It seems about the only time I have to write. I have not said much about the district here. It is a Soldier Settlement. All the houses are the same, they contain three rooms. But here there are two extra rooms built on – a kitchen and my room. In the way of furniture it contains a camp bed; a chair; a couple of bits of wood with a few nails in them to hang my clothes on; two very old boxes with a piece of cloth thrown over that acts as a dressing table; and a mirror. One side of the room is made of canvas. There is a window in the room, also a piece of an old straw mat.
The floor is made of cement and it is always dusty as just outside it is nothing but dust. Every night before I get into bed I have got to shake the dust off my feet. The food is very good here and on the whole I am quite comfortable. I get fits of the blues occasionally and wish to goodness I had never come out, but other times I feel quite happy. There are a few words which Father told me before I came away and if it was not for them I should be very unhappy. One of the things he told me was that if I did not go abroad while I was young I should regret it all my life. Time to get up.

  I have just finished my day’s work and I am writing this out in the open, sitting on a box by the side of the open water tank. The water in this tank is used by the horses, also by ourselves for washing. The sun is just setting and it looks beautiful. The golden, streaky clouds appearing just above the bush, then some very light blue sky with dark, almost purple, clouds with a touch of red in them floating about. In the east the sky is light blue and very light pink. And then there is the moon – the glorious moon – that is now shining on the Old Country, very faintly though as you all at home have just finished breakfast ready to start a day’s work. Now the dark purple clouds are nearly blue. The blue in the east is deeper and so is the pink. Everything is peaceful. I can see the cows grazing and can hear the cow bells tinkling. Mac, the pupil at the next block, is whistling On the Banks of Loch Lomond. It is lovely and cool now; it has been very hot. The daylight is fading quickly. The flies are awful here. They get in your eyes and ears and nose and everywhere.

  I am quickly getting sunburnt and although I am aching all over I am really as fit as a fiddle.

  There is a frog slowly swimming around the tank and the moon is clearly reflected in it.

  It is nearly too dark to write now. The pink and red has almost disappeared in the sky, and yellow and orange is predominant. The frogs are making a terrible din. Now the day is over, stars begin to peep. The sky is still bright in the west and it is all of a distinct lemon colour. I could write and write and write but, unfortunately, there are several things against my doing so. Now I can see a dozen moons reflected in the water, for the frog has swum right across the reflection of it. Now it is too dark to write and I am going indoors. The oil lamp has been lit and it is about 7.45pm. The two kids, one being put to bed.

  I will tell you yesterday’s work – just an average day, I suppose. I got up at about 5.40am, helped to milk the cows, also fed the pigs (we have two), let the cows out into the bush – they know when to come back alright – came back, washed and had breakfast. Breakfast over, I started hoeing and did not stop till 12 noon. After dinner I went hoeing again till 5pm. Then tea, milk the cows, feed the pigs, help separate the milk and then I am usually too tired to do anything.

  Today I had a change as I went into Moorook this morning. I knew the store keeper slightly, as I came up in the same car as he did from Morgan last Wednesday. His name is Mr Roberts and he is quite a decent fellow. I started a bank account. Also I bought two pairs of dungarees. I took the films down also, as he is an agent of the Kodak Company. I shall expect the prints about next Tuesday or Thursday. I see there is a mail boat just in (arrived yesterday), so I may get a letter from the Old Country. If not there is another mail boat in next Monday.

  I had a letter today from the headmaster of a big college in Adelaide – the Collegiate School of St. Peter. His name is Rev. Bickersteth. I met him at the depot in Kentone Avenue. We had a small concert there on the last night we were there. The concert was arranged by the Boy Scouts and the Y.M.C.A., and the Rev. Bickersteth said a few words. After the concert he stopped Mac, Billie Askwith and myself and started talking to us. When I told him I had been at the B.G.S. he said he knew Dr Norwood, the last headmaster. He was very decent and gave us his address and said that if, at any time, we go to Adelaide he would be very glad to see us; and I think he said we could stay the night there if he had a bed available. Well, he wrote to me this morning and said he wished me the very best of luck in my new life and that he would always be glad to hear from me or see me.

  Monday, 6 November 1922

  I had rather a bad slip last Friday afternoon. Mr King and I were removing a barbed wire fence. It was hard to roll it up so we put all we had rolled in the cart, and I put my foot on it and drove on. It was very bumpy ground and when I turned the wire slipped and caught in my feet and sent me sprawling to the bottom of the cart. My socks were absolutely ruined, jagged and cut beyond repair. Luckily they were one of the old blue pairs I had kept for the voyage. So beyond rather a nasty cut and a couple of scratches, I was none the worse. I bandaged it up and felt OK.

  [Note: In a later memoir, Richard Lane revealed that Mr King had refused to allow him to return to the house to clean and dress his wounds, insisting that they carry on with the job. Knowing that his diary was destined to be read by his parents and siblings, Richard did not wish to alarm or upset his family.]

  Tuesday, 7 November 1922

  There is only one church in Moorook. Last night I went to a lantern lecture on ‘From Jaffa to Jerusalem’ at the hall or church. I wore my ‘mustard suit’ for the first time. It looked and felt rather small when I put it on, but I did not take much notice of this. Anyhow, when I went into the hall I as usual went in the last row of seats. It was supposed to begin at 8pm. At about 8.15pm a man got up and said, ‘Please turn your chairs around this way’. So, you see, I was in the front row facing the Sunday school choir, varying in ages from about four to twenty, of both sexes.

  I pulled my tie straight, brushed my hair back with my hand, pulled the collar of my coat straight. Then I casually looked at my trousers. Oh, lawks, lummy days, holy smoke, good heavens, etc,, etc. What do you think I saw? Why my blooming trousers were halfway up my legs and, what is worse, I am hanged if I could pull them down. First I drew my leg in and gave them a push, then a shake. No luck. Then I tried the other leg. No better luck. Then I tucked my legs under the chair and that movement only pulled them up further. I will not try to describe the agonies I went through.

  When one chap finished talking another got up and began. First of all there were talks with a couple of anecdotes in them then, gradually, they turned into sermons. Then the Sunday school children sang. Then a duet. Another sermon. A clergyman sang part of a hymn of Sankey Song. Then another talk. And I was in the front row all the time, suffering agonies. This went on for nearly two hours. At last we turned our chairs around and had the lantern lecture. There was a collection before we turned round. The lecture was a very long-winded affair and I nearly fell asleep. After this there were light refreshments. I had one cup of tea and about six or seven cakes. Wait till I catch the person who made those cakes. Mr King had some cakes too and we have both had pains in our ‘tummys’ all day.

  More good luck. Since I have been writing this I have had a letter from home, from Mother. Also I received a paper from Father, a bank pass book from Adelaide, and three postcards of the group of boys off the Bendigo taken at Kentone Avenue. They also inform me that they have sent one large photo home, as I ordered. Mother’s letter was dated 4 October and Father’s paper the 25th September. The mail must only take about a month.

  I have been spraying today with ‘Bordeaux’ mixture: sulphate of copper, soda and water, also a little flour to help make it stick. My arms – which were sunburnt – are peeling and the mixture on them made them smart a lot; they are smarting now. I did not get to bed until after 10 o’clock last night so I shall turn in soon; it is 8.45pm now.

  In the paper Father sent me I started reading about Bristol’s adopted French town, Bethune, and casually asked Mr King if he had been anywhere near it during the war. He said he had passed through it several times. It is nice to read a paper from home, but it is better to read a letter from home. How I enjoy hearing about you all, and about Marmaduke and Vic, and the fowls and everything. I am always deducting about ten hours from our time and then wondering what you are doing.

  Thursday, 15 November 1922

  Last Thurs
day night I went out to a birthday supper. It was Percy Passmoore’s birthday and he was eighteen. He and his father and mother have been out here about three years. They lived at Torquay and before that at a small village near Westward Ho. His father and mother are typical Devonians and their accent is very strong. It was a Pommy gathering. There were four Barwell Boys there.

  Last night while I was having tea, Mac (the Barwell Boy next door) came in and said I had been asked to go down to Mr and Mrs Roberts, at the store, to spend the evening there. When I got there I found it was a ‘choir practice’; at least there were a big crowd of girls trying to learn carols. I could not see any boys there. As I refused to stay and sing, or even listen, I, Mr Roberts, a bank clerk from Adelaide and another man had a quiet talk together in another room. Then after a cup of tea I walked home again. I was tired when I got home. I had a letter from Mrs Petheram a couple of days ago. She says that she is getting on all right. Molly has got a job and Billie is on a very decent mixed farm of 300 to 400 acres.

  I also received a letter from Mr Garvie. He says he is very busy, rushing round. Last Monday the temperature at 8 o’clock in the morning was 102°F, and at 12 noon 108°F. I was harrowing all Monday and Tuesday morning. In the afternoon I was on the horse rake. After that we carried the lucerne and made a stack of it. Lucerne is about equivalent to the English clover.

  Last Sunday afternoon I went bathing in a creek – part of the Murray River – and I had tea with Mac’s boss, Mr Matthews, and his wife. Mr Matthews was fairly high-up in the Australian Air Force and his wife is an Australian. They are both very decent. They know Stanley de Courcy Ireland and his wife very well. I believe they went to England on the same boat as they did. Either Mr or Mrs S. de Courcy Ireland wrote to Mrs Matthews and asked her to look me up if I was anywhere near them. Mrs Matthews has invited me to have my Christmas dinner with them.