Part 2 (1/2)

It was just on such a day as this, and in just such a bright mid-day hour, that a distant neighbour of ours rode up to the garden gate, leading a pack horse. Outside the saddle-bags, with which this animal was somewhat heavily laden, could be plainly seen a beautiful new pair of Oxford skates, glinting in the suns.h.i.+ne; and it must have been the sight of these beloved implements which called forth the half-envious remark from one of the gentlemen, ”I suppose you have lots of skating up at your place?”

”Well, not exactly at my station, but there is a capital lake ten miles from my house where I am sure of a good day's skating any time between June and August,” answered Mr. C. H----, our newly arrived guest.

We all looked at each other. I believe I heaved a deep sigh, and dropped my thimble, which ”Joey” instantly seized, and with a low chirrup of intense delight, commenced to poke down between the boards of the verandah. It was too bad of us to give such broad hints by looks if not by words. Poor Mr. C. H---- was a bachelor in those days: he had not been at his little out-of-the-way homestead for some weeks, and was ignorant of its resources in the way of firing (always an important matter at a station), or even of tea and mutton. He had no woman-servant, and was totally unprepared for an incursion of skaters; and yet,--New Zealand fas.h.i.+on,--no sooner did he perceive that we were all longing and pining for some skating, than he invited us all most cordially to go up to his back-country run the very next day, with him, and skate as long as we liked. This was indeed a delightful prospect, the more especially as it happened to be only Monday, which gave us plenty of time to be back again by Sunday, for our weekly service. We made it a rule never to be away from home on that day, lest any of our distant congregation should ride their twenty miles or so across country and find us absent.

When the host is willing and the guests eager, it does not take long to arrange a plan, so the next morning found three of us, besides Mr. C.

H---- mounted and ready to start directly after breakfast. I have often been asked how I managed in those days about toilette arrangements, when it was impossible to carry any luggage except a small ”swag,” closely packed in a waterproof case and fastened on the same side as the saddle-pocket. First of all I must a.s.sure my lady readers that I prided myself on turning out as neat and natty as possible at the end of the journey, and yet I rode not only in my every-day linsey gown, which could be made long or short at pleasure, but in my crinoline. This was artfully looped up on the right side and tied by a ribbon, in such a way that when I came out ready dressed to mount, no one in the world could have guessed that I had on any _cage_ beneath my short riding habit with a loose tweed jacket over the body of the dress. Within the ”swag”

was stowed a brush and comb, collar, cuffs and handkerchiefs, a little necessary linen, a pair of shoes, and perhaps a ribbon for my hair if I meant to be very smart. On this occasion we all found that our skates occupied a terribly large proportion both of weight and s.p.a.ce in our modest kits, but still we were much too happy to grumble.

Where could you find a gayer quartette than started at an easy canter up the valley that fresh bracing morning? From the very first our faces were turned to the south-west, and before us rose the magnificent chain of the Southern Alps, with their bold snowy peaks standing out in a glorious dazzle against the cobalt sky. A stranger, or colonially speaking, a ”new chum,” would have thought we must needs cross that barrier-range before we could penetrate any distance into the back country, but we knew of long winding vallies and gullies running up between the giant slopes, which would lead us, almost without our knowing how high we had climbed, up to the elevated but sheltered plateau among the back country ranges where Mr. C. H----'s homestead stood. There was only one steep saddle to be crossed, and that lay between us and Rockwood, six miles off. It was the worst part of the journey for the horses, so we had easy consciences in dismounting and waiting an hour when we reached that most charming and hospitable of houses. I had just time for one turn round the beautiful garden, where the flowers and shrubs of old England grew side by side with the wild and lovely blossoms of our new island home, when the expected coo-e rang out shrill and clear from the rose-covered porch. It was but little past mid-day when we made our second start, and set seriously to work over fifteen miles of fairly good galloping ground. This distance brought us well up to the foot of a high range, and the last six miles of the journey had to be accomplished in single file, and with great care and discretion, for the track led through bleak desolate vallies, round the shoulder of ab.u.t.ting spurs, through swamps, and up and down rocky staircases. Mr. C. H---- and his cob both knew the way well however, and my bay mare Helen had the cleverest legs and the wisest as well as prettiest head of her race. If left to herself she seldom made a mistake, and the few tumbles she and I ever had together, took place only when she found herself obliged to go my way instead of her own. We entered the gorges of the high mountains between us and the west, and soon lost the sun; even the brief winter twilight faded away more swiftly than usual amid those dark defiles; and it was pitch dark, though only five o'clock, when we heard a sudden and welcome clamour of dog voices.

These deep-mouthed tones invariably const.i.tute the first notes of a sheep-station's welcome; and a delightful sound it is to the belated and bewildered traveller, for besides guiding his horse to the right spot, the noise serves to bring out some one to see who the traveller may be.

On this occasion we heard one man say to the other, ”It's the boss:” so almost before we had time to dismount from our tired horses (remember they had each carried a heavy ”swag” besides their riders), lights gleamed from the windows of the little house, and a wood fire sparkled and sputtered on the open hearth. Mr. C. H---- only just guided me to the door of the sitting-room, making an apology and injunction together,--”Its very rough I am afraid: but you can do what you like;”--before he hastened back to a.s.sist his guests in settling their horses comfortably for the night. Labour used to be so dear and wages so high, especially in the back country of New Zealand, that the couple of men,--one for indoor work, to saw wood, milk, cook, sweep, _wash_, etc., and the other to act as gardener, groom, ploughman, and do all the numerous odd jobs about a place a hundred miles and more from the nearest shop,--represented a wage-expenditure of at least 200 pounds a year. Every gentleman therefore as a matter of course sees to his own horse when he arrives unexpectedly at a station, and I knew I should have at least half an hour to myself.

The first thing to do was to let down my crinoline, for I could only walk like a crab in it when it was fastened up for riding, kilt up my linsey gown, take off my hat and jacket, and set to work The curtains must be drawn close, and the chairs moved out from their symmetrical positions against the wall; then I made an expedition into the kitchen, and won the heart of the stalwart cook, who was already frying chops over the fire, by saying in my best German, ”I have come to help you with the tea.” Poor man! it was very unfair, for Mr. C. H---- had told me during our ride that his servitor was a German, and I had employed the last long hour of the journey in rubbing up my exceedingly rusty knowledge of that language, and arranging one or two effective sentences. Poor Karl's surprise and delight knew no bounds, and he burst forth into a long monologue, to which I could find no readier answers than smiles and nods, hiding my inability to follow up my brilliant beginning under the pretence of being very busy. By the time the gentlemen had stabled and fed the horses and were ready, Karl and I between us had arranged a bright cosy little apartment with a capital tea-dinner on the table. After this meal there were pipes and toddy, and as I could not retire, like Mrs. Micawber at David Copperfield's supper party, into the adjoining bedroom and sit by myself in the cold, I made the best of the somewhat dense clouds of smoke with which I was soon surrounded, and listened to the fragmentary plans for the next day. Then we all separated for the night, and in two minutes I was fast asleep in a little room no bigger than the cabin of a s.h.i.+p, with an opossum rug on a sofa for my bed and bedding.

It was cold enough the next morning, I a.s.sure you: so cold that it was difficult to believe the statement that all the gentlemen had been down at daybreak to bathe in the great lake which spread like an inland sea before the bay-window of the little sitting room. This lake, the largest of the mountain chain, never freezes, on account partly of its great depth, and also because of its sunny aspect. Our destination lay far inland, and if we meant to have a good long day's skating we must start at once. Such a perfect day as it was! I felt half inclined to beg off the first day on the ice, and to spend my morning wandering along the rata-fringed sh.o.r.es of Lake Coleridge, with its glorious enclosing of hills which might fairly be called mountains; but I feared to seem capricious or lazy, when really my only difficulty was in selecting a pleasure. The sun had climbed well over the high barriers which lay eastwards, and was s.h.i.+ning brightly down through the quivering blue ether overhead; the frost sparkled on every broad flax-blade or slender tussock-spine, as if the silver side of earth were turned outwards that winter morning.

No sooner had we mounted (with no ”swag” except our skates this time) than Mr. C. H---- set spurs to his horse, and bounded over the slip-rail of the paddock before Karl could get it down. We were too primitive for gates in those parts: they only belonged to the civilization nearer Christchurch; and I had much ado to prevent my pony from following his lead, especially as the other gentlemen were only too delighted to get rid of some of their high spirits by a jump. However Karl got the top rail down for me, and ”Mouse” hopped over the lower one gaily, overtaking the leader of the expedition in a very few strides. We could not keep up our rapid pace long; for the ground became terribly broken and cut up by swamps, quicksands, blind creeks, and all sorts of snares and pit-falls. Every moment added to the desolate grandeur of the scene.

Bleak hills rose up on either hand, with still bleaker and higher peaks appearing beyond them again. An awful silence, unbroken by the familiar cheerful sound of the sheep calling to each other,--for even the hardy merino cannot live in these ranges during the winter months,--brooded around us, and the dark ma.s.s of a splendid ”bush,” extending over many hundred acres, only added to the lonely grandeur of the scene. We rode almost the whole time in a deep cold shade, for between us and the warm sun-rays were such lofty mountains that it was only for a few brief noontide moments he could peep over their steep sides.

After two hour's riding, at the best pace which we could keep up through these terrible gorges, a sharp turn of the track brought us full in view of our destination. I can never forget that first glimpse of Lake Ida.

In the cleft of a huge, gaunt, bare hill, divided as if by a giant hand, lay a large _black_ sheet of ice. No ray of suns.h.i.+ne ever struck it from autumn until spring, and it seemed impossible to imagine our venturing to skate merrily in such a sombre looking spot. But New-Zealand sheep farmers are not sentimental I am afraid. Beyond a rapid thought of self-congratulation that such ”cold country” was not on _their_ run, they did not feel affected by its eternal silence and gloom. The ice would bear, and what more could skater's heart desire? At the end of the dark tarn, nearest to the track by which we had approached it, stood a neat little hut; and judge of my amazement when, as we rode up to it, a young gentleman, looking as if he was just going out for a day's deer-stalking, opened the low door and came out to greet us. Yes, here was one of those strange anomalies peculiar to the colonies. A young man, fresh from his University, of refined tastes and cultivated intellect, was leading here the life of a boor, without companions.h.i.+p or appreciation of any sort. His ”mate” seemed to be a rough West countryman, honest and well meaning enough, but utterly unsuited to Mr.

K----. It was the old story, of wild unpractical ideas hastily carried out. Mr. K---- had arrived in New Zealand a couple of years before, with all his worldly wealth,--1,000 pounds. Finding this would not go very far in the purchase of a good sheep-run, and hearing some calculations about the profit to be derived from breeding cattle, based upon somebody's lucky speculation, he eagerly caught at one of the many offers showered upon unfortunate ”new chums,” and bought the worst and bleakest bit of one of the worst and bleakest runs in the province. The remainder of his money was laid out in purchasing stock; and now he had sat down patiently to await, in his little hut, until such time as his brilliant expectations would be realized. I may say here they became fainter and fainter year by year, and at last faded away altogether; leaving him at the end of three lonely, dreadful years with exactly half his capital, but double his experience. However this has nothing to do with my story, except that I can never think of our skating expedition to that lonely lake, far back among those terrible hills, without a thrill of compa.s.sion for the only living human being, who dwelt among them.

It was too cold to dawdle about, however, that day. The frost lay white and hard upon the ground, and we felt that we were cruel in leaving our poor horses standing to get chilled whilst we amused ourselves. Although my beloved Helen was not there, having been exchanged for the day in favour of Master Mouse, a s.h.a.ggy pony, whose paces were as rough as its coat, I begged a red blanket from Mr. K----, and covered up Helen's stable companion, whose sleek skin spoke of a milder temperature than that on Lake Ida's ”gloomy sh.o.r.e.” Our simple arrangements were soon made. Mr. K---- left directions to his mate to prepare a repast consisting of tea, bread, and mutton for us, and, each carrying our skates, we made the best of our way across the frozen tussocks to the lake. Mr. K---- proved an admirable guide over its surface, for he was in the habit during the winter of getting all his firewood out of the opposite ”bush,” and bringing it across the lake on sledges drawn by bullocks. We accused him of having cut up our ice dreadfully by these means; but he took us to a part of the vast expanse where an unbroken field of at least ten acres of ice stretched smoothly before us. Here were no boards marked ”DANGEROUS,” nor any intimation of the depth of water beneath. The most timid person could feel no apprehension on ice which seemed more solid than the earth; so accordingly in a few moments we had buckled and strapped on our skates, and were skimming and gliding--and I must add, falling--in all directions. We were very much out of practice at first, except Mr. K----, who skated every day, taking short cuts across the lake to track a stray heifer or explore a blind gully.

I despair of making my readers see the scene as I saw it, or of conveying any adequate idea of the intense, the appalling loneliness of the spot. It really seemed to me as if our voices and laughter, so far from breaking the deep eternal silence, only brought it out into stronger relief. On either hand rose up, shear from the waters edge, a great, barren, s.h.i.+ngly mountain; before us loomed a dark pine forest, whose black shadows crept up until they merged in the deep _creva.s.ses_ and fissures of the Snowy Range. Behind us stretched the winding gullies by which we had climbed to this mountain tarn, and Mr. K----'s little hut and sc.r.a.p of a garden and paddock gave the one touch of life, or possibility of life, to this desolate region. In spite of all scenic wet blankets we tried hard to be gay, and no one but myself would acknowledge that we found the lonely grandeur of our ”rink” too much for us. We skated away perseveringly until we were both tired and hungry, when we returned to Mr. K----'s hut, took a hasty meal, and mounted our chilled steeds. Mr. C. H---- insisted on bringing poor Mr. K---- back with us, though he was somewhat reluctant to come, alleging that a few days spent in the society of his kind made the solitude of his weather-board hut all the more dreary. The next day and yet the next we returned to our gloomy skating ground, and when I turned round in my saddle as we rode away on Friday evening, for a last look at Lake Ida lying behind us in her winter black numbness, her aspect seemed more forbidding than ever, for only the bare steep hill-sides could be seen; the pine forest and white distant mountains were all blotted and blurred out of sight by a heavy pall of cloud creeping slowly up.

”Let us ride fast,” cried Mr. K----, ”or we shall have a sou'-wester upon us;” so we galloped home as quickly as we could, over ground that I don't really believe I could summon courage to walk across, ever so slowly, to-day,--but then one's nerves and courage are in very different order out in New Zealand to the low standard which rules for ladies in England, who ”live at home in ease!” Long before we reached home the storm was pelting us: my little jacket was like a white board when I took it off, for the sleet and snow had frozen as it fell. I was wet to the skin, and so numb with cold I could hardly stand when we reached home at last in the dark and down-pour. I could only get my things very imperfectly dried, and had to manage as best I could, but yet no one even thought of making the inquiry next morning when I came out to breakfast, ”Have you caught cold?” It would have seemed a ridiculous question.

Chapter V: Toboggon-ing.

I cannot resist the temptation to touch upon one of the winter amus.e.m.e.nts which came to us two years later. Yet the word ”amus.e.m.e.nt”

seems out of place, no one in the Province having much heart to amuse themselves, for the great snow storm of August, 1867, had just taken place, and we were in the first days of bewilderment at the calamity which had befallen us all. A week's incessant snow-fall, accompanied by a fierce and freezing south-west wind, had not only covered the whole of the mountains from base to brow with s.h.i.+ning white, through which not a single dark rock jutted, but had drifted on the plains for many feet deep. Gullies had been filled up by the soft, driving flakes, creeks were bridged over, and for three weeks and more all communication between the stations and the various towns.h.i.+ps was cut off. The full extent of our losses was unknown to us, and dreary as were our forebodings of misfortune, none of us guessed that snow to be the winding sheet of half a million of sheep. The magnificent semi-circle of the Southern Alps stood out, for a hundred miles from north to south, in appalling white distinctness, and no one in the whole Colony had ever seen the splendid range thus free from fleck or flaw. We had done all we could within working distance, but what was, the use of digging in drifts thirty feet deep? Amidst, and almost above, the terrible anxiety about our own individual safety,--for the snow was over the roof of many of the station-houses,--came the pressing question, ”Where are the sheep?” A profound silence unbroken by bleat of lamb, or bark of dog, or any sound of life, had reigned for many days, when a merciful north-westerly gale sprung, up, and releasing the heavily-laden earth from its white bondage, freed the miserable remnant of our flocks and herds. At least, I should say, it freed those sheep which had travelled down to the vallies, driven before the first pitiless gusts, but we knew that many hundreds, if not thousands, of wethers must have been surprised and imprisoned far back among the hills.

Such knowledge could not be acted upon, however, for no human being could hope to plunge through the drifts around us. Old shepherds who had lived on the run for fifteen years, confessed that they did not know their way fifty yards from the homestead. The vallies were filled up, so that one gully looked precisely like its fellow; rocks, scrub, Ti-ti palms, all our local land-marks had disappeared; not a fence or gate could be seen in all the country side. Here and there a long wave-like line in the smooth ma.s.s would lead us to suppose that a wire fence lay buried beneath its curves, but we had no means of knowing for certain.

Near the house every shrub and out-building, every hay-stack or wood-heap, had all been covered up, and no man might even guess where they lay.

This had been the terrible state of things, and although the blessed warm wind had removed our immediate and pressing fear of starvation, we could not hope to employ ourselves in searching for our missing sheep for many days to come. None of us had been able to take any exercise for more than a fortnight, and having done all that could possibly be done near at hand, F---- set to work to manufacture some sledges out of old packing-cases. Quite close to the house, a hill sloped smoothly for about 300 yards, at an angle of 40 degrees; along its side lay a perfectly level and deep drift, which did not show any signs of thawing for more than a month, and we resolved to use this as a natural _Montagne Russe_. The construction of a suitable sledge was the first difficulty to be surmounted, and many were the dismal failures and break-neck catastrophes which preceded what we considered a safe and successful vehicle. Not only was it immensely difficult to make, without either proper materials or tools, a sledge which could hold two people (for F---- declared it was no fun sleighing alone), but his ”patent brakes” proved the most broken of reeds to lean upon when the sledge was das.h.i.+ng down the steep incline at the rate of a thousand miles an hour.

We nearly broke our necks more than once, and I look back now with amazement to our fool-hardiness. How well I remember one expedition, when F----, who had been hammering away in a shed all the morning, came to find me sitting in the sun in the verandah, and to inform me that at last he had perfected a conveyance which would combine speed with safety. Undaunted by previous mishaps, I sallied forth, and in company with Mr. U---- and F----, climbed painfully up the high hill I have mentioned, by some steps which they had cut in the frozen snow. Without some such help we could not have kept our footing for a moment, and as long as I live I shall never forget the sensation of leaving my friendly Alpenstock planted in the snow, and of seating myself on that frail sledge. Perhaps I ought to describe it here. A board, about six feet long by one foot broad, with sheet-iron nailed beneath it, and curved upwards in front; on its upper surface a couple of battens were fixed, one quite at the foremost end, and one half-way. That was F----'s new patent sledge, warranted to go faster down an incline than any other conveyance on the surface of the earth. I was the wretched ”pa.s.senger,”

as he called me, on more than one occasion, and I will briefly describe my experiences. ”Why did you go?” is a very natural question to arise in my reader's mind; and sitting here at my writing-table, I feel as if I must have been a lunatic to venture. But in those delicious wild days, no enterprise seemed too rash or dangerous to engage in, from mounting a horse which had never seen or felt the fluttering of a habit, to embarking on the conveyance I have described above, and starting down a mountain-side at the risk of a broken neck.

Well, to return to that terrible moment. I see the whole scene now. The frail, rude sledge, with its breaks made out of a couple of standards from a wire fence, connected by a strong iron chain; F----seated at the back of the precious contrivance, firmly grasping a standard in each hand; Mr. U---- clinging desperately to his Alpen-stock with one hand, whilst with the other he helps me on to the board; and Nettle, my dear little terrier, standing s.h.i.+vering on three legs, sniffing distrustfully at the sledge. It is extremely difficult even to take one's place on a board a dozen inches wide. My petticoats have to be firmly wrapped around me, and care taken that no fold projects beyond the sledge, or I should be soon dragged out of my frail seat. I fix my feet firmly against the batten, and F---- cries, ”Are you ready?” ”Oh, not yet!”

I gasp, clinging to Mr. U----'s hand as if I never meant to let it go.

”Hold tight!” he shouts. Now what a mockery this injunction was. I had nothing to hold on to except my own knees, and I clasped them convulsively. Mr. U---- says, ”You're all right now,” and before I can realize that he has let go my hand, before my courage is half-way up to the necessary height, we are off. The breaks are slightly depressed for the first few yards, in order to regulate our pace, and because there is a tremendously steep pitch just at first. Once we have safely pa.s.sed that he tilts up the standards, and our sledge shoots like a meteor down the perfectly smooth incline. I cannot draw my breath, we are going at such a pace through the keen air; I give myself up for lost. We come to another steep pitch near the bottom of the hill; F---- is laughing to such a degree at me that he does not put down his breaks soon enough, and loses control of the sledge. We appear to leap down the dip, and then the sledge turns first one way and then the other, its zinc prow being sometimes up-hill and some-times down. It seems wonderful that we keep on the sledge, for we have no means of holding on except by pressing our feet against the battens; yet in the grand and final upset at the bottom of the hill, the sledge is there too, and we find we have never parted company from it.