TWO BOAT DAYS AT PRESERVATION INLET.

Otago Witness, Issue 2207, 18 June 1896, Page 47

TWO BOAT DAYS AT PRESERVATION INLET.

By Ceoii. Thoenton.

No. 11.

Rain on the hilltops, shadowed dimly oat in yonder clouds, on that broad belt of forest with the misty haze over its dark curtain, and rain pattering uticeasingly into the grey leaden sea below. Kiabee Hotel peera out of vapour, the valley beside is filled with white drifting mists, and the dull heavy sea sullenly swells as the s.s. InvercargiU rocks on its breast in the early dawn of that dull autumn morning.

The few people that appear upon the shore are dad la gllftteaing oilskins, and hasten between the hotel and the post office. Tire all-pervading damp is over everything ; a feeling of depression is in the air; the poor lonely horse cowers under the lee of Jimmy the Snob's cottage ; the bullocks are huddled in holes and behind tree trunks ; the cow has betaken herself to some sheltered retreat ; a steam Brisea from every rotting tree trunk, from the planks of the pier, from the very ground itself. Never was Preservation Inlet so dull; never was its beauty hid under a less inviting garb.

The steamer haß come ia early. She has sounded her whistle, as is her usual custom. Bat, the echoes that under brighter skies had borne the welcome sound along from crag to crag, from Goal Island to Crayfish, and from there yet on, appear to-day to have lost somewhat of their old reverberating force by reason of the overhanging clouds and gathering mists, and to as on shore the sound seemi to ring with nmoh less clearness.

At 8 o'clock the men from the Golden Site come down, and a few boats are to bo seen labouring through the swell of the dull grey waters. More will follow yet, for wet or fine makes but little dfEerence to the sturdy miners of the Inlet. They only do not come to Kisbae when the waves' run mountains high and the squalls ru*h down from the many bush-clad valleys. Then only do they desist from oiossing the Inlet and visiting Kiftbee, where the outside nnws and the longexpected lotters await thvir coming. Some have taken advantage of the lull that prevailed after sunset the previous night and stole over»airfc*Qg soaked, through by the heavy spray that tossed around and above their boats.' 80 many came, indeed, that the hotel was full— crowded beyond its capacity. Single beds were made to accommodate two. Two, stalwart men, one a new chum, who were late, ia asking — perhaps having dallied over the glass of whisky taken in the bar parlour ln order to prevent the ill effects of their wetting — were given one bed between them. The new chum, knowing few of the miners around, retired early, while bis mate went to the billiard zoom and played there till late. Another boat load arrived— among its occupants a boy. Then came the disadvantage of having an openhanded, large-hearted mate — a disadvantage that the new ohnm soon thoroughly realised — for his mate aßked the boy to share the bed with them. " Don't mind him, mate," said the older hand at 2 o'-olook in the mortfing, " he's only a little 'un j we calls 'im the Sbrimp." So the Sbrlmp with the new hand and the old hands crammed between the blankets of the bed osly. feoilt for ons. There had been a great yarning at the big blazing fire Dick Hall had laid in the little back sitting room. The fireplace is big enough — the chimney also.' The latter is composed of corrugated iron— a sheet on each side leaning in with two sheets on the outer wall. There old Dooherty talked of many "isms" cnlled from &c magazine articles he had impressed upon his retentive* mind. He quoted Dr Richardson on health, Sir Robert BatU on astronomy, Mr Gladstone on the many subjects on which that statesman is an authority. Docherty was an edition of old Nineteenth Centurys, of Oontemporarys, with a spies of Boys' Own Paper and Cbambewto journal. A mass of information of this sort hurled at you in ordinary conversation Ib somswhat hard to digest, and moreover somewhat puzzling, so we passed it by. There by the hoge fire, with the green tawa logs across it, the late comer bad dried bis dripping garments that sent out many a jet of steam. ' ' .

The usual Preservation talk was indulged in—the talk 0% the Golden Sits and the Morning Star, the probabilities of the Nugget , mine, the jumping propensities of John Smith or the other proclivities of John Brown { and some slipped out quietly and joined a "Boat's Eve party " somewhere else; while some stuck to the billiards, and othera amused themselves with cards. And all the time the incessant rain had poured down upon iron and shingle roof, and kept on pouring through the night long after the echo of the whistle bad died away amongst the shanties of Oromarty,'

At 7 the breakfast table is rushed by the early risers, and from then till 8 Jenny, the waitress, has much to do. 'Those who wait their tarn at the board, lit up by the little lamp at the end, spend their time watching the steamer in the < filog, or sit in the little back -room warming themselves by the fire that blazes so cheerily there, and occupying themselves with a n«wly-arrived paper that has found its way tfaithe*.

A new chum comes into the hotel wonderfully and fearfully attired. He Is clad from ucck to foot in a suit of the newest, most yellow oilskins at the Bluff. I write neok advisedly, for his head was not protected by a soar-wester, as one would have expected from his other garments, nor even a billy cooß ss & by a black and white st;aw bat, more .fit for a garden party in DnnecSn than for Preservation on a pouring wet day. "t7no*s that yahoo in that beastly hat 7 " asks the wellknown owner of a stentorian voice. " Why, does .the fellow think we are going to play feennisV* There v is a loud guffaw, and the joke spreads roaaci.

• The new chum has be»a saoia the archin of misfortune than the perpetrator of an incongruity. His new slouch hat— the very beßt of its kind, I xaaks- no doufcfc— had been blown off whan se?!rftig Sicbeo. , it. sailor bad then approacfeed fcisa— a catto», 70a know, gentle reader, ist and v%S) w^sosa a Jpfee pev«r grows old—antf had soggexted he

should make ft mark tfpon tie gnn^nlego that it might be picked up on the return trip* The jovial sailor repeats this great jeat of his with infinite relish, for, as I have said, to him it was ever now. " Wbat are these msn — these miners ? " I can fancy some kind reader asking. They are men with many faults and many weaknesses, but yet rich in those virtues that outweigh so many a failing and cover so many a blemish. They are generous if they are spendthrift, and their worst enemy is far too often only themselves. Reliant and independent, face to face with Nature, the great paymistres* of all, they are the equals of »U men, and .look all men in the face as man upon man. They despise assumption, and are judges of character. That dark man, with the form below medium height, on one occasion took out his last money (17s 6d) and gave It to a new dhum who, to use a common expression, was on his beam ' ends— a feeling which, to say the least of it, is not a happy «ne— and said, " Here, mate, "this is all I have ; but I have oredit, which yon haven't." And be did not go to Kisbeo the next boat day, but went prospecting instead.

That strong middle-aged man is mated with one unlike him in .every way— a most uadesirable companion acoording to general opinion, but through thick and thin the pair stuck together.- And whatever money belonged to the one the two shared the spending of, and the credit q£ the first propped up that of the second. There, are some quaint characters there—, one ln particular who is generous in the extreme. Nobody " shouts "so 'much ' as he, and no one " shouts " at less expense to himself. The mode of procedure ia simple. Dick Richards, so we will call him, is asked by you to have a drink. On the road to the bar he halls a friend and introduces him with great pomp and ceremony. In the overwhelming joy produced by the honour conferred on you,, you invite your- new acquaintance to drink. And you pay. Dick, generous soul as he is, does not forget your liquorous hospitality. You enter a room where he Is. Someone is shouting all round. It is Tommy— everyone knows Tommy— and Diok very grandiloquently motions yon out to him. "Have a drink, old man?" You try to retire, bub Diok catches hold of you and insists — right nobly insists — upon your drinking. Tommy Is a sensible man. He has never seen you before and does net know you from Adam. He curtly says 1

M I'm not going to shout j I'm d dif I'm going to shout for a man I don't know." " But, Tommy I " says generous Diok, " Tommy I he's my friend I " " Friend of yours or not, I'm—— " And he said it again. , " Tommy," says Diok In tearful tones, for the day had been so wet that something, in fact a good deal, has had to be taken' to keep out the wet, and- Diok had taken it, " Tommy, I've known you so long."

Tommy adjures these friendly overtures. Dick grows insulted. He will not let yon, poor blushing and innocent intruder, leave, the place, nor wIU .he parmit you to pay for,, the drink, and least of all will he pay for it himself. Tommy sees a way out of the difficulty. "Introduce me to your friend," he says. " Interjooce yer. VerVe hit it, Tommy." So you are seized bodily and shake bands solemnly with Tommy; you call for your particular fancy ln the way of keeping the oold out, and are in the midst of a happy family again. Dick and Tommy shake handi warmly, say they wonder how they could so nearly have quarrelled, and you try to look pleasant. There it ends. 1 Bub not quite. Tommy comeß up to you shortly afterwards. "Dick's not a bad fellow, not fall, bat times he's peculiar— peculiar," Dick also apologises to you for the awkward position his friendship has placed you is. - Tommy — ce — ia a good fellow — fell — 0 — but Tom in— cc— is toneh-r-touch— touch—

Dinner is over; the dim little room has been thronged time after time as relays of men had gone in. They were* not dressed in proper fozm for dinner. Only one of them boasted a white collar, and Rumour said he was in love. As he has since married I can well believe her.

An unoccupied observer can find pleasure in watching the bearded faces that cluster round the table there— faces which point to many a history, though the olosed lips keep those histories secreb. Bcoentricity is marked thera with that sharp clever face and quick sparkling eyes ; and that fine follow there with curly beard and crisp short hair — he writes the name of his worot foe when ha signs his otm name. That man was a policeman before he came to the Inlet ; and that man, drunk or, sober, never tells his own story.. The rain clouds hover still over the Bald Peaks; a light mist still skims over the point by Long Sound. But the heavy rain has dwindled to a mist, and the mist lifts in streaks from off the surfaoe of the water. - A "flatty" puts off from the shore with a woman in a red dress in it. It oomes off to the boat. There is. a man in the lodging house on shore who has something wrong with film. He fell down a hole, and It, is thought bis leg is broken. So the ship's boat Is sent for the sufferer, and by strong, careful, tender hands he is brought on board. For 13 long days, ever since the last boat day, be has languished, none able to help him in his need or to alleviate his pain. So he is. taken to a land where hospitals and doctors are. But not in need—the poor to the poor are ever kind. He is not allowed to leave the Inlet without a farther token of sympathy than could only be expressed by grave, honest eyes bending down sorrowfully into his, or by those rough broken commonplace words that are so difficult to come by. His hostess is by him,' and on her kindly faoe and upon the owners of those stalwart forms and bearded oheeks, who throng Ktound bis bunk to wish him speedy recovery, meantime taking up with unwonted gentleness the long, thin, wasted hand that lies upon the rough blue blankets above him —upon them his own deep dark anguished eyes throw out through a dewy haze the thanks his tongue is fat ton tired to tell. And somehow someone thinks that he values these »irr> 1* manifestations of a fellow feeling more than that more worldly one which he knows the captain holds In

And then the" flatty rf goetf back towardi the house that otandß at the foot of thq tramway, showing out dearly against thl dark background of bare tree stumps and the olef t through which the tramway rnnft , A raj at last has succeeded in piercing th«r mist, and shines fully upon the primitive tra painted little craft; on the freckled boy iff the striped shirt who is straining at the oariff and on the fair hair and crimson bodice qb the woman returning from her 'errand of meroy.

And so with new chums who already are, weaned of the searoh for gold in that pr<w dpitous country, with the invalid lyinl white and Btill in the cabin, with the boll mountain peaks showing out again — lit up bj the setting sun the tussock country seemi aflame— the s.s. Invercargill.blowi her sailing, whistle, takes the mails en board, and steama out of the Inlet once more on her voyage past the iron gates of Puysegnr, going home. On the smooth and sandy beach, with ths tide coming in, an. old man stands gu&rt over a boatload of stores waiting for hi mate to leave that knot of men ln the son b; : the. hotel door. Then suddenly the sunligh \ fails and Cromarty is left la shadow, and hi mate oomes slowly down to the heaoh ii orosa the Inlet once again, ' .