The Confessions of a Beachcomber | Page 5

opposite shore, on his ill-fated expedition up Cape York, to find
the country inland from Tam o' Shanter Point altogether different from
any previously-examined part of Australia. We gave no thought to the

gallant explorer, near as we were to the scenes of his desperate struggle
in the entanglements of the jungle.
The island was all before us, where to choose our place of rest, and the
bustle of the transport of goods and chattels to the site in the thick
forest invisible from the sea began at once. Before sunset, tents were
pitched among the trees, and a few yards of bush surrounding then
cleared, and we were at home.
Prior to departing from civilisation we had arranged for the
construction of a hut of cedar, so contrived with nicely adjusting parts
and bolts, and all its members numbered, that a mere amateur could put
it together. If at the end of six months' trial the life was found to be
unendurable, or serious objection not dreamt of in our salad philosophy
became apparent, then our dwelling could be packed up again. All
would not be lost.
The clearing of a sufficient space for the accommodation of the hut was
no light task for unaccustomed hands, for the bloodwood trees were
mighty and tough, and the dubious work of burning up the trunks and
branches while yet green, in our eagerness for free air and tidiness, was
undertaken. It was also accomplished.
For several weeks there was little done save to build a kitchen and shed
and widen the clearing in the forest. Inspection of the details of our
domain was reserved as a sort of reward for present task and toil.
According to the formula neatly printed in official journals, the
building of a slab hut is absurdly easy--quite a pastime for the settler
eager to get a roof of bark or thatch over his head. The frame, of course,
goes up without assistance, and then the principal item is the slabs for
walls. When you have fallen your tree and sawn off a block of the
required length, you have only to split off the slab. Ah! but suppose the
timber does not split freely, and your heavy maul does; and the wedges
instead of entering have the habit of bouncing out as if they were fitted
with internal springs, and your maul wants renewal several times, until
you find that the timber prescribed is of no account for such tools; and
at best your slabs run off to nothing at half length, and several trees
have to be cut down before you get a single decent slab, and everybody

is peevish with weariness and disappointment, the rudest house in the
bush will be a long time in the building. "Experience is a hard mistress,
yet she teacheth as none other." We came to be more indebted to the
hard mistress--she gave us blistering palms and aching muscles--than to
all the directions and prescriptions of men who claim to have climbed
to the top of the tree in the profession of the "bush." A "bush" carpenter
is a very admirable person, when he is not also a bush lawyer. Mere
amateurs would be wise if they held their enthusiasm in check when
they read the recipe--pat as the recipe for the making of a
rice-pudding--for the construction of even a bark hut. It is so very easy
to write it all down; but if you have had no actual experience in
bark-cutting, and your trees are not in the right condition, you will put
your elation to a shockingly severe test, harden the epidermis of your
hands, and the whole of your heart, and go to bed many nights sadly ere
you get one decent sheet for your roof.
We do not all belong to the ancient and honourable family of the Swiss
Robinsons, who performed a series of unassuming miracles on their
island. There was no practical dispensation of providential favours on
our behalf. Trees that had the reputation of providing splendid splitting
timber defiantly slandered themselves, and others that should have
almost flayed themselves at the first tap of the tomahawk had not the
slightest regard for the reputation vouched for in serious publications.
But why "burden our remembrance with a heaviness that's gone?" Why
recall the memory of those acheful days, when all the pleasant and
restful features of the island are uncatalogued? Before the rains began
we had comfortable if circumscribed shelter. Does not that suffice? Our
dwelling consisted of one room and a kitchen. Perforce the greater part
of our time was spent out of doors. Isolation kept us moderately free
from visitors. Those who did violate our seclusion had to put up with
the consequences. We had purchased liberty. Large liberties are the