Part 60 (1/2)

The tale, however, has its tragic side, for the woman died on the very day when the rescuing s.h.i.+p called at the island. She was buried on the isthmus, not far from our Shack. One would think that death was rather a relief from such an existence as this unfortunate woman must have endured, but, at the same time, it seems hard that she did not live to partic.i.p.ate in the joy of deliverance.

We ate our lunch and had a smoke, after which we decided to walk homewards along ”Feather Bed” terrace. A few minutes after leaving the cave, Sawyer and Sandell caught three young ducks, which they carried back, intending to rear them, but they died several days later. A weary tramp brought us, thoroughly tired, to the Shack, where Hamilton had an excellent meal awaiting us.

The weather during January was rather trying. Precipitation in the form of either rain, hail, sleet or snow occurred on twenty-six days, sometimes all forms being experienced on the same day. As a result, the supply of water was well maintained; in fact, the amount caught exceeded the consumption and we finished the month with the tank almost full.

Gales were experienced on eight days, the maximum wind-force being forty-two miles an hour. The sky was mostly heavily clouded or absolutely overcast and on many days the sun was not seen. Fog hung about the hills almost continuously, and driving mist accompanied the northerly winds.

January 24 was a glorious day, calm and sunny, with a maximum temperature of 51.3 degrees F. The habit of former days induced Sandell and myself to have a dip in the surf, but as the temperature of the water was about 42 degrees F., we stayed in as many seconds. The mean temperature for the month was 44.9 degrees F.; the minimum being 35.5 degrees F.

My first view of the island when the 'Aurora' arrived in December 1911 left rather an agreeable impression. The day of our approach was marked by fine calm weather and the dark-green tussock-clad hillsides were rather attractive. On the other hand, one was immediately struck with the entire absence of trees, the steep precipices, cliffs and the exceedingly rugged nature of the coastline.

Closer scrutiny shows that the tussock gra.s.s radiates closely from a semi-decayed ma.s.s of leaf-sheaths, with the blades of gra.s.s shooting upwards and outwards as high as three or four feet. Scattered through it are patches of Stilbocarpa polaris, locally known as Maori cabbage. It is of a more vivid green than the tussock and is edible, though somewhat stringy and insipid. Our sheep ate it readily, even nibbling the roots after the plant had been cropped down.

There were several Victoria penguin colonies round about the rocky faces of the hills in the vicinity of the Shack, and their hubbub and cackling uproar were something to remember. The rearing of the young appeared to be rather a busy process. The young ones look like bundles of down and seem to grow at a remarkable rate, while the attempt of the parent to shelter the usual two chicks is a very ludicrous thing to watch.

The material for the nest made by these birds seems to depend almost entirely on its immediate surroundings. The rookery is established on a broken rocky face close to the water's edge and the nests are made under rocks, in niches and pa.s.sages, as well as amongst the tussock growing on the rocks. Those under the rocks are constructed of small stones and a few blades of gra.s.s, while those in the pa.s.sages and fissures are usually depressions in soft mud. Amongst the tussock a hole is first made in the soft earth and then neatly lined with blades of gra.s.s.

The birds lay two or three eggs of a white or greenish-white colour, but I have never seen three chicks hatched. The eggs are edible, and we used many dozens of them during our stay.

The period of incubation is about five weeks, and male and female take turns at sitting. A young one is fed by placing its beak within that of the parent bird where the food--mainly crustaceans--is taken as it regurgitates from the stomach of the latter.

Although the smallest species on the island, the Victoria penguins are the most spiteful, and a scramble through the rookery invites many pecks and much disturbance. They have a black head and back, white breast and yellow crest, the feathers of which spread out laterally. During the moulting season they sit in the rookery or perched on surrounding rocks, living apparently on their fat, which is found to have disappeared when at last they take to the sea. They come and go with remarkable regularity, being first seen about the middle of October, and leaving during the first week of May. The same rookeries are occupied year after year, and the departure of the birds adds to the general desolation during the winter months.

Their destination on leaving the land is still a mystery. Although they are never seen, it is conjectured that they spend the winter at sea. Their natural enemy in the waters round Macquarie Island is the sea-leopard, and the stomachs of all specimens of this animal taken by us during the penguin season contained feathers.

The presence of numerous bones just at the rear of the Shack pointed to the fact that here must have been at one time the site of a King penguin rookery. As many of our potatoes and onions were sprouting in the bags, I determined to dig a portion of this area and plant the most ”progressive” of these vegetables. The sandy soil did not appear to contain much nutriment, but I thought that something might be gained by giving it a trial.

On the night of February 2, Sawyer reported that he had heard the Wellington wireless operator calling Suva station, but, as no further signals were heard from anywhere, he was inclined to the idea that it was the experience of a ”freak night.” In explanation of this term, I may say that it is used in reference to nights on which the atmospheric conditions are abnormally favourable for wireless work.

The news was particularly encouraging, and for the next few days we were on the tip-toe of expectation.

In the early morning of the 5th a howling gale sprang up and, increasing in force as the day wore on, rendered work impossible. A tremendous sea worked up, and the ocean for a distance of a mile from sh.o.r.e was simply a seething boil of foam. Huge waves dashed on sh.o.r.e, running yards beyond the usual marks, and threatening to sweep across the isthmus.

Ma.s.ses of tangled kelp, torn from the outlying rocks, washed backwards and forwards in the surf or were carried high up among the tussocks. The configuration of the s.h.i.+ngly beach changed while one looked at it. The tops of the waves could be seen flying over Anchor Rock, seventy feet high, and spray was blowing right across the isthmus.

On the advice of the sealers we had s.h.i.+fted our stores farther back from the beach and it was just as well we did so, as the waves reached to within a few feet of the nearest box. Meanwhile I began to wonder how our benzine and lubricating oil were faring. Both had been stacked in cases among the tussock and rocks, well back from the waters of Aerial Cove on the western side of Wireless Hill.

Accordingly, Hamilton, Sandell and I went round in that direction the following morning, while Sawyer made his way up to the wireless station to see if there were any damages there. We worked along round the cliff-front through a cave rejoicing in the name of ”Catch Me,” from the fact that the waves rushed into it, frequently catching and thoroughly wetting any unfortunate taken off his guard. A ma.s.sive rock, evidently broken from the roof, lay right across its centre, while on either side of the obstruction were ma.s.ses of greasy decaying kelp. We were ”caught”

and floundered about in the kelp while the water surged around us.

Arriving at the Cove, we found that several cases were missing. One was discovered buried in kelp, and a little later we came upon a tin battered almost out of recognition. The loss was not serious, but the precaution was taken to s.h.i.+ft the oil still farther back.

While we were engaged on this task, Sawyer appeared on the front of the hill above and signalled to us that the aerial had been blown down.

The three-inch rope keeping the aerial taut had broken off close to the bridle and torn the halyard with it. It meant that some one would have to climb the mast to pa.s.s a rope through the block, and the wind was at this time too strong for anything to be done.

On February 7, Blake and Hamilton, who had been making preparations for several days past, set out for Sandy Bay, intending to do some work in that locality. Their blankets, sleeping-bag, instruments and other gear made rather heavy swags, but they shouldered them in true Murrumbidgee style and tramped away.

Sandell, Sawyer and I went up Wireless Hill to fix the aerial. Sandell, the lightest of the three, was being hoisted up the first section of the mast with some one-and-a-half-inch rope when the hauling-line gave way.

Fortunately, he had a strap securing him to the mast, otherwise his fall would have been from twenty feet. This was the only rope we had, so we had to think of some other means of reaching the top. After a short discussion, I suggested that decking-spikes should be secured from the wreck of the Clyde and driven into the mast at intervals. The idea was followed with great success, and Sandell was able to run the halyard through the block at the top (ninety feet). The aerial was then hauled into position, the stay-wires were tightened, an extra ”dead man” was put in and the station was once more ready for work.

Hamilton returned from Sandy Bay on the 11th laden with botanical trophies and four specimens of a small land bird which we had never before seen. He and Blake, who remained behind, had fixed up the hut there so that it afforded decent shelter.

On the night of the 13th what we had long expected happened. Wireless communication was established for the first time, with a s.h.i.+p--s.s.