Planter's Daughter

A Day in the Life of a Fiji Planter's Daughter

“/"10ME along,” said my revered papa.

VJ “Grab that saw and follow me, and we’ll soon see what sort of stuff you’re made of.”

Horrors! I hadn’t expected my words to be taken so literally! A few minutes previously, when Dad had been raising his eternal moan anent the “infernal firewood” problem, I had jeered—rather unwisely, as I afterwards saw: “Why, it’s not very hard work, is it? I’ll bet a dollar to a coconut that I could pull on that saw without turning a hair.”

Dad had pounced on my words with what I considered indecent glee and haste.

“O-ho, you could, could you?” he com mented grimly. “All right, my girl, just grab that saw and follow me.”

Inwardly chiding myself for my rash ness, I shouldered the long, flexible cross-cut, and trudged through the plantation in the wake of Dad and the two working bullocks, which were yoked together and led by a piece of rope. Be hind them dragged a chain, by means of which they would haul the firewood from the bush to the homestead.

As we drew nearer the source of the firewood, I tried to bolster myself up with philosophical thoughts. Oh well, I mused, it might be worse. I might have been given the job of leading James and Thomas (the bullocks). Not that they would hurt a fly, but I’ll swear that James’ horns were a yard long, and ... well, one never knew.

The cross-cut kept jumping around and wouldn’t behave at all, until I learned to hold it better and properly ... I was learning many things fast!

Occasionally, Dad glanced over his shoulder to see how I was faring. Was that a pleasant smile on his face, or only an unsympathetic grin? I couldn’t decide.

At length, we reached the hill where on lay the prospective firewood. Ty ing James and Thomas to a tree, Dad took the saw and led the way to the top of the hill, where he indicated a large caukuro log, and looked at me sig nificantly. The hint was not to be evaded, so I spat on my hands, rolled up my sleeves, grasped my end of the saw and fell to.

I think we took a dozen spells during the hour that followed. In between spells, and admonitions from Dad to pull instead of push, I mopped the sweat off my fevered brow and heroically strove to conceal the fact that I was one big ache. When at last that log was severed, I heaved a sigh right from the soles of my boots!

Came the ticklish part of the business.

The log had to be hauled down the steep hill. Up came the bullocks, and around the log went the chain. Then the blow fell. I was to lead James and Thomas down the hill (!), said Dad, while he came behind and guided the log to see that it didn’t swerve into the bush.

I quavered and shook and shivered,

but finally picked up the rope and stepped gingerly forward.

“Take it easy,” counselled Dad, “and if they start to tread on your heels, just turn round and look ’em straight in the eye and say, ‘Whoa! You adjectival so-and-sos!!’ ” All of which was fine arid dandy.

But when they did start to tread on my heels, Dad’s advice went clean out of my head. I began to walk faster, and consequently they walked faster, too. And, one of their strides being equal to about three of mine, they swiftly gained on me. My walk de veloped into a trot, the trot became a run, the run changed to a gallop, and in two shakes of a donkey’s tail, I had dropped the rope and was pounding in full flight down the hillside, with

James and Thomas thundering behind me, and the log careering madly on the end of the chain!

From somewhere up in the bush, Dad bawled: ‘‘Don’t drop the rope! Don’t drop the rope! Turn round and look ’em straight in the eye . .

He may as well have spoken to the air. I was breaking all records for the half-mile.

When I crept back ten minutes later, it was to find James and Thomas kissing each other round a coconut tree, and Dad muttering unseemly things as he untangled the mess.

Nowadays, I do a mental kow-tow be fore every piece of wood I burn, and am very chary of making rash state

merits!

Amel.

Mr. E. J. Turner, Sydney mining engineer, sailed for New Guinea by the ‘•Macdhui” .on March 12 to make a comprehensive report on the Edie mine of Enterprise of New Guinea Gold and Petroleum Development N.L. A reef ing proposition, the mine has been worked for several years by the Com pany, with varying results. It form erly was operated by Edie Creek Gold Mining Co. N.L., which went into liquid ation.

Dr. G. R. Baxter, who recently was appointed Medical Officer of Health at Suva, Fiji, took up duties: in March.

Mr. Allan McCay, the Wau dentist, arried in Sydney from New Guinea by the “Montoro” early in April, en route to Melbourne. He recently sold his practice to Mr. Eric Weine, and will spend the next two or three years study ing and taking dental degrees in Eng land and America.