PLEASANT LIFE

Evening Star, Issue 20983, 23 December 1931, Page 13

PLEASANT LIFE

“ PINCHGUT’S " KEEPER VOLUNTARY EXILE Once a little hell, where convicts wore hanged or starved, and later an aggressive fortress, “ Pinchgut,” the island in Sydney Harbour, is to-day a peaceful, snakeless paradise, with the air of the ’eighties still upon its walls (says the Sydney ‘ Daily Telegraph ’). Hundreds visit the “ fort,’ and all, old and young, envy the caretaker, Mr William Sumner, his island home. As he shows them round they cast their eyes here and there looking for something to souvenir. While he explains to them that he and his wife and children have lived on Pinchgut for more than eight years, and that most good things have their bad points, someone slips the main door key into a pocket or down a stocking. Eight keys have gone from this door, and that annoys Mr Sumner, because he has to replace them; it also amuses him, because some of the keys have only been a few weeks in the door when they are souvenired for their “historic value.’’

Life On the island is a peaceful routine, away from hawkers, door-to-door canvassers, beggars, bottle-ohs, street noises, and dust, and subject only to occasional changes at the command of the weather. Mr and Mrs Sumner, their three children, eighty fowls, and an, aviary of fifty canaries, finenes, and other birds rise with the dawn. The caretaker’s first task is to switch off the main light, which has burnt a warning through the darkness to ships that passed in the night. Breakfast is over by the time a .special Harbour Trust launch fusses up to the island to convey to school the eldest Miss Sumner, aged seven. She kisses her mother and father good-bye and steps aboard with the air of a princess, justly proud—for what other girl has a launch to fetch her to school! In the afternoon, at 4, the launch brings her back again. The caretaker has weather reports and the tide machine to attend to each morning, and three times a week he takes his motor boat over to Circular quay to pay a visit to the Harbour Trust office. His wife stays behind mi these occasions, as somebody must be on the island twenty-four hours a day. This rule is never broken. At night Mr Sumner, as light attendant, becomes a literal slave of the lamp and a willing prisoner on the island. He knows not the lures of film sirens, for he has only one month in the year —his holiday ting)—to visit the talkies. The rest of the morning is spent in polishing and cleaning the gunroom relics, running the island’s generator (for Pinchgut makes its own light), and supplying visiting Harbour _ Trust launches with fuel from the island’s and the Harbour Trust’s store.

Firing the 1 o’clock gun is the big 'moment of the day for Mr Sumner, Avho boasts that in all his eight years he has missed only nine times. This, of course, is not counting that barren period when the observatory ball got out of order for ten days. Last time the gun did not go off was a feAv clays ago. The caretaker, Avho has to furnish an official report on each occasion, explained that the friction charges Avere a little unreliable; tAvo had failed to fire the poAvder, so he gave it up. There Avas a time Avhen dozens of people used to ring Pinchgut and tell the caretaker that the gun Avas early or late; this was vexing to its attendant, Avho kneAV that, like Caesar’s wife, the gun Avas above suspicion; but noAV the telephone cable is disconnected by damp, and though this means that the island is without communication all night it is a relief to be rid of these unofficial checkers. Sometimes another harbour official comes over to spend the afternoon setting “ traps ” for outgoing steamers. It is exactly a mile from a point on Pinchgut to a point on Bradley’s Head. When a steamer passes the island at this point a signal is flashed to officials pn the head, who start stop Avatches ami check the vessel’s speed. Quite a little pocket money is gleaned through fines for the Harbour Trust in this way.

What there is of spare time is spent gardening. From the ferry the gardens cannot be seen; they are a pleasant surprise to the visitor. A 60ft laAvn runs behind the living quarters. Beds of floAvers and fruit trees surround it. Benches invite you to sit doAvn, and a fresh-water spring—rising from no one knoAvs Avhere—offers cool refreshment. When the stars are out and the lamps are lit and the sky is a darkening blue Mr Sumner -lights his pipe and Avalks up and doAvn the laAvn. Music comes from his Avireless set beloAv. He smokes in peace and content, a monarch of all he surveys.