It was 16 December 1977 - at around 5.30 pm we could just see the Reef Islands on the horizon and it was estimated we would reach them and anchor at around 6.30 pm. Only one day and two hours late by the ship's schedule but some fourteen days late from our schedule. We had travelled almost 15,000 miles in three days only to be defeated by the last 40 miles which had taken nearly two weeks to complete. We gazed in the dimming light at our new home for the next three years. Several small low lying islands could be seen. The feeling was one of elation and disbelief. Ross Pointed out Pigeon Island. The ship anchored. All we had to do now was wait to be collected by Tom and Diana and taken to Pigeon Island.
From the shadows discernable from the ship we could just make out two figures moving in the bay. Ross informed us that it was his mother and father trying to start the outboard engine on the punt to come out and pick us up. The punt was a large flat bottomed boat the Hepworths used for loading copra onto the ship and Ross said it would be good to use that because we would all fit in it in one go, including the luggage. The dinghy was much smaller and wouldn't accommodate us all. We waited.
The engine obviously wouldn't start. The distance away from the ship to the shore was some three hundred yards. We waited.
We saw the figures make their way back to Pigeon Island. Ross muttered under his breath and indicated that, as usual, the bloody engine wouldn't work. We waited.
In the quickly fading light we could now distinguish three figures in a small dinghy coming out to the ship. Someone was rowing. "That's mummy, daddy and Tasha," said Bressin, leaning over the side of the ship craning his neck forward for a better view. Still we waited.
Slowly but surely the little dinghy got closer and closer to the ship. At last, after what seemed to us an age - obviously we had been on that ship for so long we couldn't wait to get off - the dinghy pulled alongside. The first to speak was Tom. "Hello, you must be the Gibbs."
"Yes. It's good to get here at last," I answered. Quick introductions were made all round in a babble of voices. Tasha, the Hepworth's eldest girl, who had been in Australia until recently undergoing therapeutic treatment, was now back on Pigeon Island with the Hepworths and she was the first to clamber aboard the overcrowded ship. The twins, who had not seen their parents for well over a year, leaned over the side of the ship. This time Diana spoke.
"Oh hello darlings. Have you got the mail?"
I thought that it was a very funny greeting considering they hadn't seen their sons for some time, but the thought passed in all the excitement. Everyone wanted to take charge but it was Diana who finally told everyone what was going to happen.
"Bernie can row me and the Gibbs ashore, darling. You, (meaning Tom) can stay on board with Tasha and the boys and then we'll come back out for you and the mail and luggage."
"All right, darling." Tom replied.
We loaded ourselves somewhat unsteadily into the dinghy that was tied to the side of the ship. (I was to get used to using a boat very quickly but at this particular moment in time I felt very scared.) The boat swayed and I clung to the sides in desperation. The sea was pitch black with a slight swell and everyone tried to get seated in the small boat to give Bernie enough room to row us back to shore. We also had to balance the boat evenly and it wasn't very easy. However, we somehow achieved the impossible and cast off from the ship. As Bernie pulled away from the brightly lit ship my stomach sank as we seemed to just disappear into the darkness aiming for a black lump in the sea. Although the sea was not rough in the bay, the blackness reached to my very soul. I was petrified. Diana did not give any directions to Bernie as he started rowing towards Pigeon Island. The island is surrounded by reefs and although there is a passage through the reef and a correct way of reaching the bay and island, none of this information was divulged to Bernie and so in pitch darkness we started out in the muddy black water towards land. I could hear the sea breaking on rocks so I just talked and talked to Diana about the trip to take my mind off my surroundings. The tide was high but twice we struck the reef and twice Bernie muttered under his breath. In the darkness you could not see nor hear the waves hitting the reef, it was only when the boat lurched forward you knew you had hit the reef. We finally reached shore after a more lengthy journey than was needed and scraped the boat ashore on the rough coral bordering the island. Diana was either polite and pretended to listen to my babblings or she cocked a deaf ear because she did not make one comment or join in my conversation on the way ashore and just yelled to a large adorable dog on the beach, "Kelly! Quiet!" Kelly was not quiet. He was overjoyed at such a large number of visitors coming onto the beach and he was too excited to stop barking. He was a large dog, a cross breed with no real identifying trait in him except he was ginger in colour and a bit bigger than Tara, our Alsatian back home. He ran amongst us vying for attention and it was obvious he was deliriously happy. Then Annabelle, a Golden Labrador, waddled down some steps onto the beach to greet us and she too was obviously overjoyed to see us. It was a fantastic reception committee.
Whilst the boys made a fuss of the dogs Bernie said that he felt absolutely shattered after rowing us ashore. I suppose lack of proper food and sleep over the past few days had left him under par and he did not relish the thought of rowing back out to the ship for the others. His muscles ached and he also said he was frightened of hitting the reef again.
We were discussing this when Diana said that instead of going back to the ship for Tom and the others we would pull the dinghy up the beach and the ship's crew could bring them ashore. I wondered how Tom would know this change in plan but did not ask. I already felt quite in awe of Diana and felt I should not question anything she said. We had no shoes on because we had to walk in the water to get out of the boat, so lifting the rather cumbersome boat up the beach really hurt our feet. There were lots of coral pieces in the soft sand. However, even Bernie seemed a bit in awe of Diana and followed instructions. Diana was dressed in a bikini top and short skirt. She was built like a man and acted like one. She certainly had the muscle to pull the boat ashore and soon it was settled high on the beach where the tide would not reach it and take it back out to sea.
I felt uneasy at leaving the others on the ship and wondered how long they would have to wait there, but Diana was not the sort of person I felt I could ask. I followed her up the beach.
We all climbed up coral coated steps off the beach onto higher ground towards what looked like a large house and were absolutely delighted with the view that greeted us. It was a lovely large house surrounded by a veranda. The living room was very wide and as we walked into the room I noticed on the shelves around the walls spider shells and tritons with bright red hibiscus protruding from them, giving colour and warmth to our surroundings. There was a large dining table with four chairs around it and another low table and lounger further into the room. The whole of the room was surrounded by built-in cupboards and drawers and one wall had a huge bookcase filled with all shapes and sizes of books. Everything was painted in claret and blue and the floor was pale blue vinyl tiles, highly polished. We all felt pleased.
"Would you like to eat straight away or wash first?" Diana asked. I tried to make a joke that as we all stank to high heaven a shower would be appreciated first, and a meal after. The joke was not found amusing and Diana wandered off into the darkness beyond the house to tell Paia, the cook, to delay the meal for half an hour and we would eat at 7.30 pm. This gave us time to wash and change.
First impressions are always hard and although Diana seemed distant, I said that I thought we would be fine here, and Bernie agreed. The kids thought it was great too and the dogs obviously adored them. The house was well lit with a fluorescent lamp and several small lights around the room. We had been told in earlier letters that the Hepworths spent most of their time outdoors and we noticed several lights in the trees glowing red, blue, green and yellow. It was like a fairytale. We couldn’t see much else in the darkness so we contented ourselves with exploring the house first. Tomorrow we could look over the island.
Bernie's and my bedroom was off the living room and again had lots of built-in drawers with a large double bed against the centre of the outside wall. No wardrobe though but then I recalled that Diana had said all she ever wore was a bikini top and skirt and so there was obviously no need for a wardrobe. The boys' room adjoined the office on the opposite side of the living room and twin beds were made up ready for them. They were happy with their room too. Everywhere was open. Just a short 4ft high wall ran around the house with odd pillars protruding to support the corrugated iron roof. In the event of high winds or rain one simply pulled up plastic sheets that hung outside the rooms from ropes secured to the pillars and once the sheets were pulled up flush you tied the ropes inside the room and all was sealed and protected. The plastic sheets still allowed light to penetrate. In every other room it was the same but at each end of the living room two huge doors swung together to close out the bad weather. The office off the boys' room had cupboards and drawers built into it and the work surface acted as a large desk. Cardboard files stood in erect rows on shelves and a rusty old manual typewriter sat on top of the desk. Envelopes were also in evidence and these touches made the room look like some sort of office. Everywhere was vinyl tiled which was cool to the feet.
Off our bedroom led the bathroom. There was a very large old metal bath in place and on top of the bath was a large hardboard cover on which were placed rows of medicine bottles. There were shelves too all packed with bandages and lint etc. Knowing there was no doctor for miles, it was obviously necessary to have all this first aid around. There was a shower on one side of the bathroom and a small room without any door led off to the left of the shower where a sewing machine was sited. Obviously the sewing room! Under the bath was a primus stove. I later learnt that if you wanted a hot bath the stove was lit to warm the bath full of water.
First inspection over we all quickly unpacked some clothes and decided on a rota for the shower. We had arrived!
We had all showered and dressed when the twins, Tasha and Tom came ashore with the luggage. There was also several bags of mail which were taken into the office and that was the first thing Tom attacked. He emptied three mail bags onto the table, started sorting the letters, muttered curses here and there, but eventually stacked everything how he wanted it and started out for the guest house which he told us was at the other end of the island. Tom, Diana and Tasha were living in the guest house and the main house was our house. The twins would sleep in the boat house. I wondered where this was but Tom did not elaborate. He said that he thought us being in the main house was better because it was nearer the store and more convenient for us. They intended leaving for the UK shortly and thought the arrangement made was a satisfactory one. As Tom walked into the darkness towards the guest house he said he would send one of the boys down to take us to where supper was when it was ready.
It was not long before Ross came down and asked if we were ready to go up and eat. We were all very hungry and immediately set off in hot pursuit. It was very very dark outside with no stars, moon nor light to guide us and it was difficult to judge where to walk because the ground felt very uneven under our feet. We reached the guest house some two hundred yards away without incurring injury and were led to a fully laid table sited under the trees. The table was lit by an old ship's lamp which was suspended on one of the branches of a tree. It had been converted to electricity and so gave a very bright light which illuminated the table nicely and seemed very welcoming.
Diana was seated with Tom and Bressin at the table and Diana called out to Paia. "That's the cook boy," she informed us and as we took our seats and an old man who looked about 50 came hobbling out of the kitchen with a laden tray. This he set down on the table. The table was laid for a real English type full course meal but I found out later that this was the norm for every meal - whether it was bread and jam or breadfruit and baked Smedley pie. The Hepworths liked to keep up tradition, they were true ex-pats - and so we all sat eagerly awaiting our first real meal since leaving Santa Cruz.
The meal was brought out by Paia. It was a huge dish of spaghetti and although I felt ravenous, obviously my stomach had shrunk and I couldn't eat as much as I felt I wanted to. Everyone else got stuck in and felt much better. After everyone had had enough, again Diana's voice boomed out "Paia."
Immediately the little old man hobbled out and removed all the dishes and cutlery we had used. We all sat wondering whether we should offer to help him - he looked so old and incapable - but we were told to sit back and relax. Paia cleared everything away, eventually, and we awaited the next course.
Paia appeared carrying several dishes and a large dish of fresh fruit salad. Diana served everyone and we enjoyed it very much. As soon as we had finished the voice boomed out again "Paia!" The little old man hobbled out of the kitchen to remove all the dishes. Throughout the meal we had drunk freshly squeezed lime juice made into a cordial, but I found it too sweet for my taste and so my glass remained untouched. Paia politely asked me if I had finished and when I said I had he removed the glass.
"Tea now, Paia," Diana's voice boomed out, once more.
I remember thinking what large lungs Diana must have had to make such a noise. Tea appeared and after drinking this we all felt full and satisfied.
Tom didn’t waste time in informing us that he would give us the weekend to unpack and get settled in and we would then start work on Monday. The crate we had sent out ahead of us had arrived and was in the boat house. Tom had not unpacked it but had left it for us, which I was pleased about. I didn't fancy strangers going through my belongings. He did say he thought cockroaches may have got into it, but we said we would unpack it in the morning and see what damage, if any, had occurred. We were then informed that Tom and Diana usually went to bed at 7.00 pm and awoke at 5.30 am. I tried not to show my alarm but Bernie said quite openly "Well, I'll switch the generator off when we go to bed." Tom thought this a good idea because the generator was near to the main house and easier for us to reach. However, he did make it plain that he expected the generator to be switched off no later than 9.00 pm. We did not know if this was because the generator wouldn't last much longer over that time fuel wise or what, but we later learned that it was to save fuel costs. All through the three months we spent on the island with the Hepworths the generator was religiously switched off at 9.00 pm each evening. Even when we didn’t want to go to bed until perhaps 10.00 pm off went the lights. We had to admit we were quite wary of the Hepworths. They were a unique couple and truly put the fear of God into us. We lasted less than a month before the arguments and traumas started.
You may wonder how such an odd couple could put us in fear like they did, but everyone we have met who have known the Hepworths agreed that they were definitely "different". They looked normal enough. Diana was around 5'9" tall, big boned but not fat. It was said that before the war she had been a model and also an announcer with BBC radio. Bernie and I joked that she probably modelled men's overalls, and early pictures we were shown of her depicted an attractive woman, but certainly not by today's standards was she a model. Her sister was a famous model too, Sylvia Shelley. A bit before my time but perhaps my mother might have heard of her. Diana had mousy grey hair that was permanently tied back into a pony-tail thus revealing her whole face, which made her look harsh. He face looked weather-worn too, from all her years by the sea I suppose, but considering she was almost 60 she was still certainly very fit. She hardly ever walked but marched at a set pace. She knew where she was going, when she was going and how long it would take her to reach where she was going! She did, however, have a terrible memory and could not remember from one minute to the next where she had left this or that. She was forever losing her spectacles and they would turn up in the most unusual places. On one occasion I found them on top of the water tank. She had accused the labour of stealing them and when I produced them and told them where I had found them it was pleasing to see that she had no excuse for their loss. She remembered she had climbed up onto the tank to remove the leaves from the gutter that fed the water into the tank and she must have left them there because she had been called away in an emergency! Bullshit.
Tom, on the other hand, struck me as a meek and mild little man who was definitely under Diana's thumb. He had grey-white hair that continually kept falling over his eyes and he continually kept brushing it back with his fingers. He was around 5'8" tall and of slightly lighter build than Diana. His face was weather-worn and lined but he, too, for a man of 69 years, was agile enough. He had one habit that used to have Dean and Darren in fits of laughter. I too felt I wanted to laugh at first but then it became embarrassing, but every other step he took as he walked he would pass wind. Quite loudly too. I don’t know if it was the diet or what but even as he sat talking loud bursts of wind would erupt from under the table in the middle of his many speeches. Naturally the boys soon found a nickname for him and whenever they saw him approaching the house they'd mutter to themselves "Here comes old fart-arse!" I tried in vain to tell them it was rude and to stop saying it, but they never did. In the end even Bernie and I joined in the joke. "Talk about Wind in the Willows" we'd say, "Wind on Pigeon Islands sounds better."
Tasha was a spoilt girl of 19. She was small boned and around 5'6" tall and had long dark lanky hair that always looked as if it needed combing. She never looked clean and did not take a pride in her appearance. She was also very pale which, considering she lived in the tropics, seemed not right. She could easily have got a beautiful tan. She had been born deaf and with a hole in her heart. However, she had had successful operations that had cured her ailments, she could hear perfectly well now and although she needed tablets daily for her heart, her heart was considered repaired. Her late start in life with schooling, however, meant that she was very backward in her education having the mental age of a child around 10. She knew right from wrong but still her parents rarely chastised her. They considered her sick and whatever Tasha wanted she got and she demanded a lot of attention. She would also spend hours just lazing on the lounger in our living room playing with one of the three cats that also lived on the island. I would tell her to make herself more useful and do something instead of just lying there, but she was bone idle. The labour did all the washing, cleaning, cooking etc for the Hepworths so there was no need for Tasha to lift a finger - and believe me she didn't. Tasha was also quite promiscuous and would often disappear over to the other islands and stay away for days on end. When she did come home, she would have to be deloused and scrubbed clean. I later found out that one of the many tablets Tasha kept taking was the birth pill. Diana’s attitude was “Well, she could never cope with a child so she won’t have one!”
Ross was an attractive boy around 5'7" tall. He was dark haired and all the girls liked him. He liked the girls too, despite the fact that he was only 15. He loved boating and any excuse would find him out in the boat instead of working, as Tom wanted him to do to learn the business. Ross was, as I would describe, more Melanesian than the others. He got on well with the locals, had lots of friends, and thoroughly enjoyed life on Pigeon Island. He had not done too well at school in New Zealand and he seemed pleased that that part of his life was now behind him. He thought he could now loll on blue seas, golden sands and laze his life away until he died. He was the only Hepworth I really took to, he was a nice lad.
Bressin was taller than Ross and his mother, reaching some 5'11" and he was blonde. He was an intelligent boy and spent all his time reading or spear fishing. He treated life on Pigeon Island as a break before going back to school to learn to become something more than a trader! He didn't want to stay on Pigeon Island and admitted it. He told me he fancied himself as a pilot. Tom fancied him to be an author, an ambition Tom had always wanted to fulfil, but although Bressin was intelligent, I think he knew what he wanted from life and it was not Pigeon Island and the Solomons. He had got on well at school in New Zealand and was looking forward to going to the UK. He was definitely not Melanesian minded and hated working in the store, or for that matter, at all. He would laze every minute he could, but he would always be reading. I didn't know what his future would be, and I don't think he knew himself.
We emptied the contents of our crate during the first week and cockroaches and saltwater had invaded every item we had packed. We got out the huge double foam mattress that Diana said we had to have as they were removing the mattress off the double bed in the house. This was a total waste of space because there was no double bed in the guest house and so the mattress stayed put. We were angry that we had used up valuable space in the crate for an item we did not need. We dried the mattress out on the lawn and stored it in the sewing room. There was not much we could salvage from the crate really, it had been opened at customs and the life vests and many other items had been stolen. We were left with kitchen utensils and cassette tapes and very little else. In fact, we had been so ill-advised by Tom and Diana on what to bring to Pigeon Island, all the silly things we felt we could have done without they thought were marvellous. We were seriously lacking plasters, bandages, medicines and vitamins. Every cut we had turned septic and we had no antibiotics or suitable medicines. Why had Tom and Diana not mentioned that these things were essential but led us to believe music and books were all we needed. We were struggling and the first thing I did was send off an urgent order for antibiotic creams and tablets and a medicine cabinet that would cater for this type of living. Whilst the Hepworths seemed to have a well-stocked cabinet, they did not offer us anything but told us to order goods from New Zealand. Great start!
Christmas arrived soon after our landing on Pigeon Island. We didn’t know quite what to expect but obviously we agreed to have the Christmas the Pigeon Island traditional way. We had brought out gifts for the Hepworths but they had not obviously catered for us. We, as adults, did not mind this at all but hoped Dean and Darren would understand. The Hepworth custom was that the house was trimmed up on Christmas Eve when all the children had gone to bed. (We usually let the boys trim the house up, but they obeyed orders and went to bed.) Diana took charge, as usual, and indicated how the house should be decorated and stressed that the greatest of care must be taken with the trimmings because they had to be used each year! We managed to decorate the house without too much friction. The boys were excited and couldn’t sleep and as we were only in the next room they kept poking their head around the door to see how things were progressing. I felt so sad for them. Diana produced a very bedraggled Christmas tree and placed it on top of the table in the corner of the room. I said to Dean and Darren that they should come out and help decorate the tree. I could see that was not what the Hepworths normally allowed, but I won that battle and the boys happily put tinsel and a star onto the tree. All gifts were placed on the low table where the tree stood and we were informed that "present opening time" would be after breakfast on Christmas Day. Our boys could hardly wait because they had always woken in the middle of the night to excitedly unwrap the presents found at the foot of the bed. Still, they kept to the procedure and I felt very sorry for them but also proud they were joining in with the tradition laid down. We hadn't been able to carry much out with us obviously, so our gifts for the boys were not as many as they would have received at home. They accepted that. What was the final crunch, however, was the Hepworth's gift to Darren. He was given a nice large box and as he began to tear the wrapping paper off he got a severe reprimand from Diana telling him not to rip the paper and it was to be used again next year. We were also informed not to use sticky tape in future on the presents, as this tended to tear the paper and made it difficult to re-use. We were too astounded for words but again we obeyed orders trying not to tear the wrapping paper. However, when Darren had finally opened his big box of goodies he politely thanked Tom and Diana and disappeared into his bedroom. I sidled in to see what the matter was and also to see what present he had been given. I found Darren crying. Firstly he said he was sorry because dad hadn't received much, and we got over that problem, but the real pain he was caused was the gift from Tom and Diana. They had wrapped up all Ross and Bressin's old toy cars and given them to Darren. It wasn't the fact that the cars were really old and battered and not new ones but the fact that half were broken and therefore unusable. How do you explain to a nine year old boy that "It's the thought that counts"? Anyway, I got him over that hurdle and we rejoined the others where great humour was being displayed because Ross had received the same stuffed penguin now for seven years running. It would appear that the Hepworths had a Christmas drawer and anything that could be given as a present, because the ship could never be guaranteed to deliver on time, all 'goodies' were stored in this drawer and brought out as Christmas presents. Every year several 'same presents' kept being returned to the drawer and so for the last seven years Ross had duly received his stuffed toy. We couldn't understand the Hepworth humour and wondered why presents hadn't been bought by Tom and Diana for the children well in advance from Honiara and hidden until the big day. We later found out that this was not the practice in their household and their children rarely got presents at Christmas other than items from the store, such as a new torch or some material to make a dress etc. I found it not like Christmas at all and I think our boys were very disappointed. Besides, the gift selection boxes sent out by our parents for Dean and Darren had melted in transit and were one sticky glob of sweets, but the boys appreciated this all the same and ate the sweets with relish. Chocolate was, we were told, a luxury to get here in the Reefs. I thought that meant that none was available. We later learnt that the Hepworth word luxury meant costly and yet we soon were buying a dozen bars at a time from Honiara for the kids and rationing them out weekly and it was very acceptable and did not cost the earth at all. An average half pound of Cadbury's chocolate cost $1.40, around 75p. Cheaper than in the UK. Anyway, it didn’t take long to dispense with the present opening occasion that Christmas morning and we all then went up to the Umu (ground floor oven) to watch Paia put in a couple of ducks that we were to have for Christmas dinner. I found this an interesting experience but a hot one. The lava stones got so hot they really made heat penetrate and we were all sweating when we came out of the cook house.
It was a nice Christmas dinner with Diana and I sharing the cooking. At least I did my cooking whilst Paia did Diana's. Diana could not cook and she openly admitted it. She didn't know how to make pastry or cakes and I found that amazing. Her bread was also made by Paia and if he wasn't around the Hepworths didn't eat. The adults were also allowed to drink at dinner. Tom and Diana, although not tee total, did not approve of people drinking. Therefore the ceremony of pouring and drinking the wine and liqueurs was a big event and I enjoyed every mouthful.
The Pigeon Island custom then was that after dinner everyone had to be thrown into the sea. A few local friends of Ross and Bressin appeared but seemed too shy and scared to try to throw either Bernie or me into the ocean. Bernie joined in the fun though and threw Bressin and Ross in and we all went into the sea for the Christmas Day swim. The water was lovely and warm and even Tom and Diana came in for a dip too. Christmas Day in Charmouth, England it had been the custom to have a swim in the sea but once you got out you had to be revived with hot rum because of the numbing cold. Here we all got out for ice cold drinks to cool us off - quite a contrast.
Evening time was nothing special again. The Hepworths retired to bed early and I would have liked to have gone to Church and sung a few carols. I could hear the villagers singing across the bay and it sounded nice. However, Bernie and I retired to bed reasonably early and Dean, Darren, Ross and Bressin ventured over the bay to the village and we didn’t see them again until much later on Boxing Day.
I got sentimental and although only leaving England a few weeks previously I thought of what our own families were doing and Bernie and I drank a toast to absent friends. I wished I could have been with them but Christmas would soon be over and it would be back to work and running the store.
That first month we learnt a lot about the business and the Hepworths. We didn't say much about what we considered their odd ways because we allowed for the fact that as they had been living on this isolated little island for some 20 years with only a couple of trips out, perhaps they were not used to the civilised way of life any more. They would shout at their workers and treat them like dirt. I was embarrassed one day when I saw Diana hitting one of the 'work boys' (he was about 42 years old) because he was not working fast enough. She appeared to enjoy being cruel. Nothing could make her satisfied.
Tom was very strict with the customers who called to the store and did not give an inch. Diana would help him mark everything up and work out the profit margin. Every cent was counted. He showed me how to work out the price to charge from the shipping charges and costs of the goods imported from Hong Kong. It was very easy but some items he charged more on than others because it was a commodity the natives could not do without, ie batteries for their torches for fishing and tobacco. He did not like the locals and they did not like him. They disliked Diana more as she would not hesitate to call them thieves and bastards if they upset her. Tom sold methylated spirits by the half pint to the locals who brought their bottles to the store to be filled. He would ask if they needed it for their stove. When they said "Yes" he sold them the spirit. I did not understand this until he explained that he used to sell the meths without restriction to the locals until the Government had written to him and said that if he did not check the meths was being used for the local's stoves, he would be prosecuted for selling it. He knew the locals were drinking it as it was cheaper than alcohol but he didn’t seem to care. The meths made them blind and destroyed their stomachs. The Government had cracked down on its sale and now it was very restricted. I asked why we sold it at all, as surely there was not much profit on it but I learnt that Tom had marked the meths up very high and all he could see was the money to be made from this horrid product. Bernie and I stopped selling it later when we took over the store, the natives were hooked on drinking it and it was terrible to watch them deteriorate.
Another product we sold was salt water soap. I had never seen it before and was amazed how it would froth up in sea water when the natives washed their clothing, (which they did infrequently). We sold sugar, flour, rice and tinned margarine. No other food products were sold in the store, the locals grew their own vegetables and ate only fish, so there was no need for this kind of product. When I ordered my goods from Honiara it was nearly all tinned goods. In fact, one of my shopping lists read as follows:-
Tinned flour, yeast, soup, brown rice, spaghetti, pie fillings, sugar, cinnamon, stock cubes, gravy, cooking oil, washing up liquid, milk powder, milo, coffee, tea bags, cordial, shampoo, deodorant, soap, soap powder, tinned meats, tinned veg, tinned fruit, custard, cocoa, condensed milk, golden syrup, cake mix, onions, garlic, disinfectant, toilet paper, tin foil, tinned sausages, tinned tomatoes, eggs, jam, tinned butter, kerosene, tinned cheese, cans of fanta and coke and noodles.
In the storage shed which housed all the cargo ready to go into the store there was a section set aside for the Hepworth's private cargo. I could see nothing in it but boxes and boxes of Smedley's meat pies. They lived on them and spaghetti. They could not understand why I did not want to buy some off them when they were trying to reduce their cargo before going to the UK. I said I would make my own pies as I did not like the manufactured kind. Another delicacy which we hated was spam! There were tins of it in the store. When we were desperate I did open a tin now and then. I fried it, roasted it, grilled it, battered it - I did everything I could think of to disguise the awful taste of spam, but it still tasted foul. The Hepworths would have this regularly. I wondered how long we would be there before we too succumbed to the awful diet.
Every meal was a ceremony to the Hepworths but I didn’t employ a cook because apart from the extra expense, I didn’t need one. My house girl could wash the dishes and as our contract with the Hepworths allowed for me to only "help out where necessary" I thought I'd have plenty of time to get our meals myself. Besides, the locals cooked their way and I wanted to cook my way. Plenty of time to myself was, however, a joke. Tom made sure every second of my working day was occupied. Typing out his personal letters, writing out orders, etc. He said he felt elated having his own secretary and he used to sit on the desk and dictate letters whilst I took them all down in shorthand and then typed them neatly for his scrawny signature. I felt deflated. In between all this we were also expected to serve in the store.
Store hours were from 7.30 am to midday, and then from 1.15 pm until 6.00 pm. Really long hours I thought, considering we were in the tropics and never had a siesta. On Saturdays the store was open from 8.00 am to 6.00 pm supposedly just for the sale of liquor, but by the time the natives had rung the bell, got you to answer the store, tell them that, on Tom's orders you couldn't let them buy a battery for their torch but only buy liquor, it was quicker to serve them and be done with it. Not Tom nor Diana. They would stand and argue for hours. It appeared they enjoyed arguing. It was a continual occupation of theirs. (To summon us to the store the bell was an old propeller suspended from a tree outside the store which the customer hit with a stone to make it clang, thus drawing our attention to their need for service.) At first it was very frustrating serving in the store because the customers bought every item singly. For example, one man would pass over 5 cents and say "Matches." You'd give him his box of matches. Then he'd hand over 25 cents and say "Tobacco". You'd give him his tobacco. Then he'd hand over another 5 cents and say "Matches more" and so on and so on until he might have bought ten boxes of matches all individually taking some 20 minutes to serve. One soon got caught up in this slow pace of living and accepted it and it was not unusual to serve for one hour in the store and maybe only part with a few items and take a few cents. That's Solomon time. Being uneducated they couldn't add up and so much trust was placed in you when they opened their hand for you to extract the right sum of money for a purchase. Money was new to them. We still traded and many villagers preferred to buy a pair of shorts with a basket of potatoes and some bananas than to have to worry about "shilling". It was of no use to them in their own community and so they would bury their money, sometimes forget where and after a lengthy time period find it and bring a whole pile of dirty coins to be made into new ones. They did realise that if they buried notes they would be eaten by the insects so they much preferred you to give them coins as change and not paper. Paper was not right to them. We were also Agents for the Commonwealth Bank of Australia and we managed to get many locals to open bank accounts with us and to leave their money in the bank instead of burying it. Due to their illiteracy, instead of signing their name the customer would have a password and many a funny day was spent with the locals completing bank work.
One day an old village elder left his $2 note with us in his account. The following week, he called to the store to take his $2 out. I completed all the paperwork, asked him his password and gave him $2. "Shilling no belong me" he said. I told him it was his money and to take it. He gave it me back and demanded to have his own shilling. It became evident he wanted his own note back that he had marked with bag dye and thought it had been stolen. He did not want anyone else's money. He took some convincing to take the $2 note offered. On another occasion a woman came to the bank to open an account. It took over 20 minutes to find out her name and village, and as she was unable to write her name I asked her to give me a special word (password) that she could use each time she wanted to use the bank. She couldn't do this and said she would come back. I watched her go to the group of villagers who were with her and they sat under the tree debating for several minutes what word she should choose. She returned to the bank with a couple of other villagers in tow and said she had chosen her word. When I indicated that it was a secret word only she should know it, she said it didn’t matter and the villagers had all agreed she should use the word "Dog". Over half an hour for this major event, I learnt a lot of patience.
One man came to the bank for money and when I asked him for his special word he just kept repeating "Twenty dollars". I kept asking him for his special word but he wouldn't speak. I checked the register and after getting several persons present to confirm who the man was and that the bank book he had was his I gave him the money. Just as I was about to explain to him his special word, he yelled out "Ship". That was his word but he thought he had to say it after he had got his money - not before. I asked the village elder to explain the procedure to him properly before he came to the bank again. I don’t think I could have coped with the excitement again.
Another time a woman came to the store and said "Breadfruit". I said "Yes, me want him. How much shilling?" She replied "Ten dollars". I said aghast she must be joking. Breadfruit was 10c each at the most. She was adamant "Ten dollars". After much questioning she revealed that that was her special word for the bank and she wanted $10. I had thought she wanted me to buy breadfruit. A unique time though was when a local came to the bank and said he wanted $5. I completed the paperwork and asked for his special word. "It's a secret," he said. "I know it is, but you have to tell me so that I can give you your shilling", I said. "It's a secret" was all he would say. As I knew the villager I gave him his $5 and said to him that he must, in future, tell me his word. He just looked at me as though I was stupid, "Why if it was secret should he tell me?" was all he said. I had no response!
The Solomon Islands were also gaining their independence from Britain soon and were changing their currency from Australian Dollars to Solomon Island Dollars. Tom instructed us to tell the natives to dig up all their old Australian currency and bring it into the store to exchange for the new currency. Also, we were not to send the Australian currency back to the Commonwealth Bank but to an agent he had in Australia who would give twice the face value for the coins due to their silver content. Whenever a native gave us his Australian coins to change for the new Solomon coins we would diligently pack the old currency up and store it until we had sufficient to send to the agent. We also had a notice pinned up in the store explaining to the locals how the new currency would work. As most of the locals could not read, I would explain the notice in detail. It was a good job it contained lots of pictures.
It was in February 1978 a new spark of life joined the island. A young Australian girl named Leonie turned up. She knew the Hepworths vaguely and came to stay on the island for a holiday. It was nice having someone else to talk to and although she ate with the Hepworths she would come and sit with us as often as she could. She joined in the fun with the lads too and it was agreed that if she wanted to stay on the island after the Hepworths left she could help teach the boys their lessons and that would pay for her keep. Leonie was very keen to do this as she had nothing to return to Australia for. She had indicated she felt a bit awkward being indebted to the Hepworths. Also the way Tom would climb up the stairs of the boathouse to wake her each morning unsettled her. She would wake and find him standing at the bottom of her bed staring at her. She slept naked and hoped she had not been exposing anything. I said it was probably his only highlight of the day and not to worry about it. He would be leaving soon anyway and she could then move to another bedroom if she wanted. She stayed with us for about four months in all and enjoyed her experience of tropical island life.
Early in March we had a visit from an Australian film crew who were filming life in the Solomon Islands ready for a documentary showing the natives before the islands gained Independence in July 1978. They had been filming in the Solomon Islands for about two months and had come to the Reef Islands to add some more footage to their documentary and had spent the day visiting and filming the locals. They were an extremely interesting bunch to talk to and I invited them ashore that evening for dinner. They readily accepted and I knew they must have been roughing it on board the MV Bona. They came ashore at around dusk and showered. I laid the table up for them, about eight of them, outside on the lawn and the coloured lights in the trees made the setting exquisite. I served a simple fare but they wolfed it down greedily and produced some drinks they had brought with them off the ship. The slight breeze coming in off the sea kept any insects away and it was a real pleasure sitting there talking to these very interesting people. We covered many topics and everyone mellowed, especially with the help of the alcohol. I was starting to feel human again!
We weren't really surprised that Tom and Diana had refused to join us. In fact we were quite pleased because they would have put a dampener on the evening. So it was with some surprise that promptly at 9.30 pm we were suddenly plunged into darkness - Tom had switched the generator off - despite the fact that we were entertaining. It so startled us that we didn't even question it. We couldn't find our torch as everything was in pitch blackness, nor our hurricane lamps. We were very embarrassed as we tried to make excuses for what Tom had done and it cut short a really enjoyable event. We showed our guests off the island, (which was extremely difficult in the pitch black and was made even more embarrassing when one of them fell over a chair that couldn't be seen) and then we fumbled around as best we could clearing things away before going to bed ourselves. It was only with hindsight that I thought of the things I should have done.
The locals often invited us to attend other functions, and on 9 April 1978 we were invited to attend the wedding of the daughter of one of the village elders. Ross, Bressin, Naomi and Tasha were also invited but not Tom and Diana and I think this upset them. It was going to be a Christian wedding, not the custom type where the bride is haggled over and price agreed between the fathers and the marriage agreed without ceremony. We all got ready to go to Ngamumbulou and as the tide was going out, we thought it best to walk over the reef to the village of Nenumbo, which was about a mile away, and then walk through the bush to Ngamumbulou, another mile across the atoll. It was the daughter of Edgar Vaea MBE, who was a very well-spoken educated man, who was marrying a village elder's son from another group of islands. We were looking forward to the day and set off at 6.30 am across the reef. The sun was already rising and it was very warm and the walk across the reef pleasant. We passed the small island of Temotulaki which should have appeared on every postcard from the Pacific saying "Wish you were here!" It had one large tree on it and a couple of palm trees truly looked like the desert island everyone imagines an island should be.
As we neared Nenumbo it was precarious walking around all the mangrove roots that protruded from the sand. They were extremely sharp roots shaped like spears and if you trod on one it was very painful. Kelly had followed us from the house, he would never miss an outing, and was barking and chasing crabs in and out of their refuges in the sand, sometimes digging for all he was worth to try and catch his prize. He never trod on a mangrove root - and I could never understand why - he raced amongst everyone happy.
We walked towards the village and several children joined us and carried our bags and the present we had brought for the couple. We knew the islanders coveted cloth and
so we had brought some calico in a brightly coloured pattern for the bride and tobacco (which was currency) for the groom. The children carried our belongings into the village
and through into the bush towards Ngamumbulou. The villagers all shouted a welcome to us as we passed through the centre of their village. The old sat outside their leaf huts
chewing betel nut and smoking their pipes relaxing in the morning sun. The younger women were getting ready to go to the gardens in the bush to get food or do some washing and
some men were repairing the leaf round their huts. Village life was certainly not stressful. We cleared the village and entered the bush. We were over halfway on our journey to
the wedding. Nuboa, our houseboy, had accompanied us with his machete as he would need to cut down the
foliage that had covered the path in the last couple of days. No path ever stayed clear for more than a day or two before new green foliage had grown over it, obliterating it. Nuboa led the way cutting and hacking at the bush with Ross and Bressin clearing the debris. Bernie, Naomi, myself and the boys followed with the local children at the rear. We looked a motley crew. I had put on a nice top for the wedding but already the sweat was soaking me and the top was sticking to me. Perspiration ran down my face, neck and back and the flies had started to attack the ulcers and cuts on my legs. I kept flicking my handkerchief at the flies and tried so hard not to scratch my legs. Although my ulcers were not now openly oozing puss, they had not properly healed, and there were always cuts from the coral or bush on my legs so it was a marathon task to keep the flies and mosquitoes off them. It was with relief we emerged from the bush into the village of Ngamumbulou for the wedding. The village had been cleaned and there were flowers leading up to the church and quite a crowd of people had gathered outside the church. We were ten minutes late and were led to the front of the church to wait for the bride who was also delayed.
We stood expectantly with the groom, resplendent in his lounge suit, waiting for the bride. He looked very nervous. His appearance made me think he was probably from the western islands, possibly Rennell. He was much darker than our islanders. Two bridesmaids in lovely blue dresses arrived and they had garlands of hibiscus in their hair. We waited to see the lovely bride. One of the guests informed us that this would be the first time she had seen her future husband. I was quite taken aback, I did not realise arranged marriages occurred in the islands. The vicar came into the church resplendent in his robes and took his place in front of the bridesmaids and groom. I noticed he was barefoot! The groom, however, had fine leather shoes on and as the bride walked up the aisle I noticed she, too had white silk shoes on. Her dress and veil were exquisite and her bouquet of pink hibiscus stood out firmly against the white of her dress. The leaf church was very big with benches in neat rows facing the altar. The church seemed full and everyone sang with gusto "Abide with Me", unaccompanied of course as there was no organ or piano. The vicar had a robust voice and as the couple walked up to the altar for prayers he certainly put the fear of God into everyone. The ceremony was exactly as ours would have been in the UK except it seemed to never end. Holy Communion took three quarters of an hour and we were in the church a total of one hour and three quarters. I was very thirsty. His prayers for the happy couple over the vows took place and he pronounced them man and wife. However, they had hardly looked at each other all through the event and even now the bride shyly turned her head away from the groom as the announcement came she was now his wife. There was no kiss and no touching and I felt quite sorry for the couple. I managed a couple of photographs but it took quite a lot of cajoling for them to even look at the camera, let alone each other. I wonder if they are still together, happy and how many children they have.
After the wedding ceremony we walked into the village centre for the breakfast. There were hoards of women laying out leaves on the ground to act as tables and others putting pineapples, bananas, sweet potato and pigs liver on plastic and tin plates onto the leaves. The pigs liver was pounced on by the villagers eagerly. This was a delicacy and the liver had been cooked early that morning in a parcel of leaves that had been placed on volcanic rock. I tried some but did not really like it and so my portion was accepted with gratitude by the locals. I was then, as guest of honour, handed a large portion of pig meat. The meat was encased in fat. The animals were fed on coconut which gave the animals this inch layer of fat around a very small amount of meat. Further, when killing the pig the pig was usually choked to death and not bled, therefore the meat was very dark. Everyone was watching me and so I put the lump of greasy meat into my mouth and attempted to smile. I actually felt very sick indeed but I kept the bile down and quickly swallowed the offending food.
I noticed the locals actually removing the meat from the fat and just eating the fat. I would have welcomed exchanging the fat on my pig for their meat but thought it impolite to ask so picked at the remaining lump of meat with pretended enthusiasm. This was a feast of feasts and it had cost Edgar a lot of money. There was chicken wrapped in banana leaves, fish of all shapes and sizes and pana and tapioca pudding to follow. The pana pudding had been made in huge wooden bowls, there was tons of it. I saw one bowl and it took four men to lift the bowl up, one at each corner. Then a woman came forward with a piece of cloth coiled round the top of her head and the men balanced the bowl onto her head and she walked several yards with that huge weight on her head to the place where the bowl was to be displayed. The four men then grabbed a corner of the bowl each and the woman ducked away and the men lowered it to the floor. It was amazing how much weight the women could carry on their heads. Several villagers put money on the pudding as a present for the couple. The pana tasted like polystyrene and in order not to offend I duly ate a portion of everything. (I wonder if this is how the queen feels when faced with foreign food!) Bottles of beer and coconut milk were also proffered and the XXXX Beer tasted nice in the hot sunshine, even though it was warm.
After the meal we walked around the village and hoards of screaming children kept asking Bernie to do some 'magic'. It was funny watching him amuse the children with simple tricks. Dean and Darren wandered off with Ross and we never saw them again until much later. Even when we left the village with Bressin at the end of the feast the boys stayed behind for the drum dance that was being held. We saw the villagers clear the centre of the village and bring an upturned canoe into the clearing. Two large bamboo poles were positioned next to the canoe and people started to paint their faces and put flowers in their hair ready for the dance. Hair was dyed red and green and there was a man in a loin-cloth parading up the centre of the village. He had dried berries tied around his ankles so that when he stamped his feet, a sound emanated like someone playing maracas. His face was painted in an intricate design and I wondered where they had got the white paint from. He had talcum powder in his hair. I examined the loin cloth and found it to be two pillowcases kept in place by a James Bond 007 belt. I chuckled at the sight. The dance was due to commence at 3.00 pm and go on until 7.00 am but the tide had started to come in and so we knew we would have to leave and the boys said they would see us in the morning! As we walked back into the bush towards home, we heard the villagers practising the drum beat. As they banged the bamboo poles against the base of the upturned canoe, a thundering noise erupted around the bush. Birds screeched and flew into the air, a cacophony of sound that was quite eerie in the darkness of the bush.
Bressin led the way back to Nenumbo, and we could see the tide returning quickly over the reef as we paddled our way back past Temotulaki and towards home. It had been a pleasant stay and Kelly joined us on that long walk back across the reef. I had no idea where Kelly had been but the villagers did not like him and would often throw stones at him to keep him out of the village so he may have been waiting in the bush for us. As we approached Pigeon Island the sea was just below our knees and we gratefully climbed the steps to the house. I needed to shower, wash the salt off the cuts and ulcers on my legs and put some antiseptic on the new bites I had acquired on that trek. It was a never ending saga, the flies, the bites, the infection, the treatment. Why didn't Bernie suffer like me?
One morning, bright and early, several islanders were making their way into the bay in their canoes. I watched them from the veranda of the house through the binoculars - they had a lot of trade with them so I knew I was going to be busy in the store. I watched them pull their canoes onto the beach. They looked like Polynesians so they must have come from the outer islands - possibly Tikopia which was some 40 miles away. How they ever sailed in those frail boats loaded up to the hilt amazed me. They were very shrewd people and made this trip about once a month to bring crocodile skins, tortoiseshell, and copra. They traded their goods with me for tobacco, plastic bowls, lengths of cloth, batteries and fishing hooks and lines. I was going to be in the store for several hours because I knew that by the time they had unloaded their goods, brought them up to the store, bartered with me the tide would have gone out and they would have to wait around six hours for the tide to turn so that they could get back over the reef in their large canoes. Six hours shopping! I got prepared by taking the weighing scales outside the store and hanging it on the framework we used to weigh the baskets of copra they brought. There was also a table outside the store and I knew this was where they would put their baskets of fruit, and other wares for me to look at. I grabbed my pencil and notepad to record the transactions and waited for them to come up to the store. The first islander got to the top of the steps outside the store and greeted me shyly. He had his young son with him, about 14 years of age, and the son ran back down to the canoe to bring up the rest of the goods. They had a lot of produce and also some shells they wanted to trade. The shells were to be exchanged for beads for the children to make bracelets. I finished weighing the copra and went back into the store and opened the shutters. I took down the big glass jars we housed the coloured beads in and it was sheer delight watching the faces of the children who had made the trip with them pick and choose what colours they wanted for their bracelets. I sold the beads by the spoonful and soon I had a bag full of coloured shells and handed over a bag full of coloured beads. We were both satisfied with our exchanges. The Tikopians settled themselves on the beach to have their meal and to wait for the tide to turn when a Melanesian, who had been watching all this take place, came forward. He, too, must have come from one of the outer islands as I had never seen him before and he was dressed very European style. He had shorts and a nice white shirt on, but bare-footed. I stared in amazement when he asked me in a broad Scots accent, "I don't suppose you have any porridge oats?" His English was perfect, despite the accent and I looked at him in shock. "Porridge oats?" I repeated.
"Yes. I have just returned from Edinburgh from my teacher training course and I absolutely love porridge oats."
I laughed as I told him I liked porridge oats too but really that was a product we could not get here. His name was Solomon and he was the new school teacher on the island of Fenualoa. He told me all about his one year stay in Edinburgh and the college he had gone to, paid for by the UK. He was now able to teach his villagers. He said how he had hated the weather as it was so cold in Scotland, and they had made him wear shoes but because he had never worn shoes before, he had had to have a size 14 which made his feet blister and he did not like shoes. He was a nice man and my hours in the store that day were very pleasant.
One item we sold a lot of was bung rubbers for oil drums, the rubber seals. It was a token of affection to the locals and if a boy gave a girl a bung rubber, it showed he was interested in her! The girls too would give the boys the bung rubbers. Very often we would get several young islanders at the store buying "tubber". They could not say the letter "R" and pronounced it like a "T". They would buy the bung rubbers individually and a few of them would put them on their own wrist indicating they had an admirer when in fact they had bought them themselves. Some pretty girls had dozens of the seals up their arms and a few boys fought for their affections. However, to show affection in public to a member of the opposite sex was taboo and you would see boys walking round holding hands with each other showing friendship and the girls would do the same. It was hard, at first, to see Dean walking hand in hand with his friend, Robinson. Homosexuality was not condoned in the islands and yet public displays of affection to the same sex was normal. Dean was becoming more and more localised and was even speaking Reef language, which was annoying as I didn't know what he was talking about. Darren's Pidgin was excellent and he lost me many times when talking to the people at the store. He would have them in fits of laughter, so Lord knows what he was saying to them. He would even sing the local songs with the boys from Nandeli. I remember one such song, in Pidgin, which went:
Wan Naet Mi Slip
Wan naet mi slip, mi herem voes blong yu
Yu kam around and kolem nem blong mi.
Mi wek ap come, mi look around, mi look long wall nomoa
Mi turn around for kisim yu, mi holem pilo nomoa.
No matter my fren yu farawe from mi
Remember mi insaed long maen blong yu.
Yu promis mi yu loveim mi, mi promis mi loveim yu
Plis kam baek mi likeim yu, yu brokeim maen blong mi.
Long taem mi cry, no-wan for holem mi
Mi tingim long yu, bat yu farawe from mi.
Mi tingim raon mind blong yu, yu stop farawe from mi
Mi tingim go baek long heart blong yu, mi sorry and cry nomoa.
Wan naet mi slip, mi herem voes blong yu
Yu kam around and kolem nem blong mi.
Mi wek ap come, mi look around, mi look long wall nomoa
Mi turn around for kisim yu, mi holem pilo nomoa.
No matter my fren yu farawe from mi
Remember mi insaed long maen blong yu.
Mi tingim go baek long heart blong yu, mi sorry and cry nomoa.
Mi tingim go baek long heart blong yu, mi sorry and cry nomoa.
Mi tingim go baek long heart blong yu, mi sorry and cry nomoa.
Mi tingim go baek long heart blong yu, mi sorry and cry nomoa.
Translation:
One Night I Slept
One night I slept, I heard your voice, you came in and called my name
I woke up and looked around, but saw just the wall
I turned around to kiss you, but only found the pillow to hold.
I am sad you are so far away from me, please remember me in your mind
You promised to love me and I promised to love you
Please come back, I love you, you have broken my mind.
For a long time I have cried, there is no-one to hold me
I think about you but you are far away from me
I remember how you loved me and I am sorry and cry all the time.
What a lovely ballad!
Our house was not our house at all but merely an extension of the guest house. The Hepworths hadn't emptied one room of their possessions, just a few drawers here and there, and so we were hard pushed for space to put our belongings. At any time of the day or night one of the Hepworth family would simply barge into the room they wanted and rummage through the drawers for something they needed. This used to anger me so much. One morning Diana even walked into our bedroom at 6.00 am swinging two huge crayfish in front of my face waking me up saying "Look what I've got you for your dinner!" I was not amused. Especially when she charged me for the crayfish and hadn’t even asked if I wanted them. Some mornings I'd wake to find Diana staring into the bedroom from the lawn outside shouting "You're missing a beautiful sunrise!" I told her (under my breath) what she could do with her bloody sunrise, especially at 5.30 am in the morning, and pulled the sheet over my heard and pretended not to hear. Diana would exercise every morning for about fifteen minutes and then would walk around the island collecting all the coconuts that had fallen from the trees during the night. She would hurl them down towards the side of the house where we slept as there was a huge crate just outside our window where the nuts were stored. (The house girls would then grate these and mix them with sweet potato for the dogs' dinners.) Many a morning there would be the crash as another coconut hurled itself into the side of the house. We didn’t need an alarm clock. Diana was extremely inconsiderate.
To try and retain some privacy, which is the way Bernie and I like to live, we eventually pulled up all the shutters around the bedroom so no-one could see in. Diana was that ignorant she couldn't understand our motives and asked if we were hot with the shutters up. We said that we were, but we preferred it that way. We were still too scared to tell her the truth. That is until a short time later.
By this time too the bites on my legs had turned into terrible tropical ulcers. I now had eight in all and I have never experienced so much pain in my life as I did right them with the gaping holes in my legs oozing puss everywhere so that it was necessary to change the dressings at least four times a day. The holes were so large they were almost through to the bone. No sympathy came from the Hepworths at all, just Diana saying "You shouldn't have scratched your legs." And I was still expected to turn to every day to do my stint although some days my legs were so swollen I could hardly walk. After about three weeks of this constant suffering it was suggested that Ross take me to the clinic in Manuopo. This clinic was about five miles walk through the mangrove and bush to the other side of the atoll. If we went at high tide we could boat some of the way. The clinic would be able to give me a penicillin injection and that would stop the bites turning gangrenous. I had kept the wounds clean but the ointment given us by our chemist in the UK just wasn't doing anything. I needed strong antibiotics. Despite cabling the chemist in Honiara to see if the medicine I had ordered from New Zealand had arrived, it would still be another two weeks before the ship brought the post which contained two tubes of antibiotic cream. I agreed to go to Manuopo.
The journey to the clinic was horrendous. I sat in the canoe and Ross paddled across the bay and into the mangrove. We kept going quite a way through the swamp. There were fiddler crabs darting about and fish splashing into pools formed between the roots of the mangrove. On any other occasion I would have loved looking at the wildlife. Right now though I was in agony. After about half an hour we came into a clearing and Ross berthed the canoe at the side of the water and informed me we now had to walk to the clinic. I got out and had to step into the water to reach dry land. It was about 2 feet deep and the muddy bottom sucked my sandals off my feet and the mud oozed between my toes. I bent down to retrieve my sandals and climbed ashore. My feet were filthy and the mud had got into some of the ulcers. I tried to wash the mud off but Ross said to carry on to the clinic and they would clean me up there. We had to get to the clinic and back again before the tide turned and time was short. Ross led the way up a beaten pathway through the bush and I followed. he had a machete in his hand and occasionally cut away the foliage blocking the path. It was extremely hot and humid in the bush and spiders sat in the middle of their webs which seemed so close to me as I brushed by the bushes I felt uneasy. Some spiders were poisonous but I didn’t ask Ross if the big yellow and black variety I had just disturbed was dangerous - I just walked a bit quicker trying to get away from it. Land crabs scurried into the bush off the path in front of me making the whole episode distasteful - the rustling of the foliage as they scampered made my imagination run wild and I could picture all sorts of insects and animals coming out of the bush for me. It was dark overhead with the density of the trees and so whilst you could see where you were going, you could not see far either side of you or above you. Birds cried out as we approached. It was an awful journey. After what seemed an eternity but probably only about half an hour we entered a village and walked towards a small concrete building. This was the clinic. I felt even worse. There were about 40 patients waiting for treatment but they all immediately retreated and made a path for me to the doorway. Ross walked into the clinic but I waited outside saying to the others present that I would wait my turn. The nurse, a big man wearing shorts and a white shirt on came out of the clinic with Ross and asked me to step forward. He and Ross ushered me into the clinic. I felt awful pushing my way to the front of the queue but this seemed to be totally acceptable to everyone else. The nurse got out a needle and syringe. I said to Ross that I hoped they were sterile and the nurse, who understood good English, immediately got another needle and syringe out of a saucepan of water that was boiling on a primus stove, using tweezers all correctly, he washed his hands and filled the syringe with a triple dose of penicillin. Whilst all this was taking place I glanced around the clinic. The building had a leaf roof, it was one room only about 10' by 6' with no furniture at all. Just tree trunk type seats around the edge of the room where the patients sat. All the people were watching me and sympathising with me. There were babies screaming and generally the place was in an awful mess and there did not seem much medicine on show. The tray with the drugs on was covered with a white cloth but still flies seemed to be able to reach everything. The nurse said the clinic had no fridge but were hoping to get one soon. I felt ashamed that these people had nothing better to turn to. Ross informed me that most natives tried "custom medicine" first and this was the last place they came to anyway, but it still didn’t make me feel better.
The nurse pointed to my backside with the needle held high. I said that it would be too painful and I'd rather have the injection in my arm. "Side blong yu, missus" he said. (The decision was mine.) He wiped clean with spirit the top of my arm ready to inject the "cure". The needle was blunt because he had to throw the needle like a dart into my arm to pierce the skin. As the fluid entered my arm I could feel the pain all the way down through to my fingers. A triple dose of penicillin is painful. Still, I just wanted it to work. I thanked the nurse for his help, he cleaned my dirty ulcers but unfortunately had no bandages or plasters to cover them with so I replaced what bits of bandage I had left and started the painful journey back to the canoe with Ross. As I walked through the bush back to the sea my arm tingled but I imagined the serum rushing round my blood stream reaching my ulcers and starting work. We got back to Pigeon Island just as the tide was going out.
The ulcers didn’t get any worse but neither did they get better. I had three injections in all and every trip to the clinic was a nightmare fighting my way through swamp and narrow waterways. Every journey left me worn out and sunburnt. I was in so much pain one time that I told Bernie to cut the bloody things with a knife if something wasn't done soon to ease the pain. I still had not got the medicine from New Zealand and my legs were so badly swollen I could hardly walk. The poison had also gone into my groin so I was doubled up with the pain. Bernie said that during his time in Borneo, when they had had tropical ulcers, they had put salt in them to clean them and dry them out. I said I would try that as I had no medicine, I was in such dire straits. I lay on the bed, face down as Bernie undid the bandages and washed the ulcers on the backs of my legs. He warned me it would be painful but I didn't care. He began the treatment and he only got half way through when I told him to stop. The pain was so intense I almost passed out and had to give in and tell him "Never again." I was back to the ineffective ointment and five dressings daily. It was only when I was laid up in bed one Saturday (supposedly a non-working type day) thinking I was dying that I finally erupted. Tom wanted me to check some bookwork with him and yet he knew I was lying ill in bed. I went mad and asked why he couldn't even leave me alone on a bloody Saturday, knowing how ill I felt. I came out of the bedroom almost crawling and for the first time I saw actual shock register on Tom's face at just how bad my ulcers were. All he'd ever seen were bandaged legs - not the wounds. Well this time I let fly and showed him the lot. The pain had travelled up to my groin and I was walking doubled. He called Diana and after she examined me she disappeared and came back with some antibiotics tablets that she's had in the guest house all the time I had been suffering. She put me on a five day course. (Naturally she counted the tablets out so that I wouldn't have too many and because she had to work out how much each one would cost me!) As soon as I started those tablets the ulcers improved. In fact, after the course, I felt marvellous. The wounds started to close and I could walk. Yet I thought how she had let me suffer for some eight weeks before giving me the tablets and when challenged by Bernie as to why she couldn’t have let me have them earlier, she said that she hadn’t known I was so ill and beside, her family might have needed them. She had over 100 in the box and all I needed was 20. Yes, you're right if you're thinking that I felt bitter. Several trips through the bush to a clinic for injections, days of cleaning gaping holes in my legs and Diana hadn't helped me when she could have. We were new to the tropical way of life. Surely she could have understood that. Especially as the scars on my legs are ugly and will be with me for the rest of my life. No, I will not forgive!
Darren did not like the food. Every mealtime was a battle. He simply refused to eat sweet potato and I simply could not offer him anything else. Dean was eating like a horse but was getting so tall and thin. I had lost about two stone but I was very happy about that. My shorts fell down and had to be pinned to hold them up. Bernie always looked slim but even he looked skinny now. Every day was a headache trying to produce a meal from the meagre rations on offer. You can only cook fish so many ways and I was running out of ideas. Occasionally I resorted to tinned stewing steak and made a pie, and I also found some tinned bacon which made a reasonable omelette. But food was still bland and it was such a poor diet we were always feeling tired and had headaches. My bites made me feel very irritable and I thought to myself that I had never felt ill like this before and when would it stop? To try and balance my diet I ate a lot of fruit and nuts, which grew in abundance on the island, but none of us felt satisfied food wise.
One of the trips the Hepworth planned for Leonie and us one Sunday was a picnic to the island of Pileni which was one of the furthest islands on our atoll. They would get the launch Kyomi down and we would all motor out for the day. It sounded good and I eagerly made pasties and cake for the trip. Kyomi could only be launched at very high tide and as there was one at 8.00 am that Sunday, plans were put in motion to launch her. It was a mammoth task and Tom stood on board with his naval cap proudly displayed on his head, certainly looking the part, barking out orders to Diana who was organising the greased rollers on which Kyomi would run down into the sea. All the labour were sweating as they manoeuvred the metal rollers and pushed Kyomi out of the boat shed. She slid down the wharf exactly as planned and entered the sea without scraping her bottom. We all got on board and the two house girls, the labourer Nuboa, and Ross's native friend clambered on board also and Tom started the engine and we motored out of the bay with all the locals cheering and Tom saluting them! Ross and Bressin made good all ropes and Diana sat on the deck steering Tom over the reef and round past Nola, round past Ngawawe and into Forest Pass (known locally as Devil's Passage). This was an extremely deep part of the ocean, its depth had never been recorded, and it looked foreboding. The sea was always choppy here and strong currents pulled you out from the lee of the islands into the vast ocean. The strong engine on Kyomi took our craft effortlessly over the sea towards Fenualoa. After clearing the island of Fenualoa there was another jaunt across the reef to Nifiloli and then round the reef up to the remote island of Pileni. We had motored for about three quarters of an hour when Diana indicated we were to anchor just off the reef close to Pileni. Ross and his friend helped lower the anchor and got the dinghy we had been towing alongside the boat. Diana said that all the picnic and towels should go in the dinghy with her and she would row everything ashore. Everyone else could swim ashore! The water was about 40 feet deep. Darren looked aghast but I said that I would swim with him and he looked relieved. I felt confident that if the house girls were swimming ashore, I could manage it too. Darren and I watched as Tom, Bernie, Leonie, the boys and the labour jumped overboard into the sea and started swimming to the island which was about 100 yards away. Darren and I held onto each other, jumped in, and soon joined the others. I was impressed how well Darren could actually swim. We got to the island and the sea was about two feet deep on top of the reef and so we all got ashore easily. The island had no real beach, it just rose out of the sea forming several cliffs on a craggy coral outcrop and was shrouded in trees. The islanders' village nestled behind these trees. We could not see where Diana was going to land the dinghy but suddenly villagers appeared on the rocky shore waving and calling to her "Missus, Missus". What happened next I shall never forget. About ten natives lined themselves up on the shore, five either side, and indicated to Diana to row into the gap that appeared between the rocks. In true regal style Diana rowed close to the shore, stowed the oars and shouted "Now" and the natives picked up the dinghy and ran up the rocks and put the dinghy down on the small strip of sand that separated the rocky shore from the trees. I was flabbergasted. Here she was, high and dry and the natives just smiled and then ran back towards the trees with children following them squealing and shouting in delight. We all joined Diana, grabbed our towels and followed Sape and Ikau, the two house girls, who had already placed the picnic boxes on their heads, and made our way into the trees. We soon dried in the heat of the sun and it was not long before we reached a clearing where Diana ordered the picnic to be laid out. It was a beautiful place with soft white sand, blue seas, skies and palm trees lilting in the slight breeze that came in from the sea. We settled ourselves and some local children appeared and offered us unripe coconuts. The island did not have a well and so there was very little water for the islanders to drink - their main source of liquid came from unripe coconut. The milk is very refreshing and the flesh is soft, like jelly, and very nutritious. It certainly quenches your thirst and is also a good laxative! We accepted their gifts graciously. Whilst Nuboa and the house girls prepared the picnic we walked around the village. The boys started playing football, the game everyone on the Solomon Islands loves with the locals. Tom and Diana found a shady spot and began reading whilst Bernie and I ambled along taking in all the new smells and sounds. We returned to the clearing and a fire had been lit and coffee was on the go. The picnic was all ready. It was actually very nice and although I couldn't see anyone else around, I sensed we were being watched by the locals who were hiding in the trees. The boys ate heartily and returned to the village, generally having a great time and Bernie lay under the shade of an overhanging bush and started to read. It was idyllic. As I sat there I felt happy and thought of the hundreds of people who would want to swap this day with us.
I started to burn in the hot sunshine and so decided I would go back to the launch and get my tee-shirt. I reckoned I could swim out to the launch and back with ease, the swim in to the island hadn’t been too bad at all, so I told Bernie where I was going and set off. I walked back to the beach to the rocks and noticed the tide had gone out quite a lot and more of the coral was exposed than when we had landed. It was extremely sharp and jagged and where the natives had carried Diana in the dinghy up the beach there was a channel now clearly exposed where the sea was pounding in. I stood on the edge of the reef, watching the waves pounding on the rocks. It was a magnificent sight. I looked into the rock pools at the tropical fish and marvelled at all the colours that were so vividly apparent. The water seemed to magnify everything and you felt as if you could just reach out and pick up the brilliant blue fish darting in and out of the coral. I could have stayed admiring the fish for ever but my shoulders were really starting to sting so I went to the gap in the reef, waited for a wave to pound into the gap, and gently lowered myself into the sea. The clear blue water felt wonderful as I launched myself off the reef and swam out to the launch. I climbed on board with ease and got my tee-shirt. I put it on and dived back into the sea to swim ashore. As I approached the gap in the reef I felt the undercurrent pull me away from the reef. As the waves hit the reef so they tumbled and caused a kind of whirlpool effect and this was the sensation I could feel around my feet. I thought this to be normal so did not panic. I looked around me for a suitable place to get ashore and thought the only option was to try the spot where the dinghy had been brought ashore earlier. I waited until a big wave came and thought I'd ride in on that and climb onto the beach.
I judged the wave perfectly and it carried me right into the opening in the coral close to the beach but before I could secure a finger hold and climb ashore the force of the receding water tore my hands from the rocks cutting them. It was also too painful for me to hold on with my feet, they were too soft for me to climb up the sharp coral edges of the reef and the water was dragging my legs backwards. Suddenly the sea sucked me down. I went under water, tumbling down, my knees hit the coral and started to bleed and the pain made me wince. I came up gasping into the fresh air, startled and frightened. "That was a close thing." I thought. I recovered my composure, got my breath sorted and thought I'd give it another go. I waited for the wave, in I travelled and just as I grabbed the coral outcrop I was sucked down again, tumbling over and over and taking in water. I was rammed against the reef and all the air was expelled from my lungs. I bobbed to the surface my heart pounding and I coughed and choked as the water came out of my mouth. The current took me further away from the island and I had to dog paddle to stay in line with the beach. My lungs felt as though they had been burnt. No-one was around and I was beginning to get very scared. I thought I would give it one more go and if I didn’t make it this time I would have to swim back out to the launch and stay on board until the others came back. I trod water for what seemed a long time trying to judge where it would be best to get ashore. My knees and fingertips were bleeding now from my attempts to grab the rocks and the salt water was stinging. I still believed the channel up the rocks was the best place so I set myself up once more and prepared to get ashore. I waited until the wave came, it lifted me high and carried me in. I grabbed hold of the reef and the next thing I knew the flesh was torn from my fingers by the force of the sea. The sea was relentless and smashed my knees against the rocks and I screamed in pain. Suddenly I was being sucked down deeper and deeper. As I sank the sea again propelled me against the reef and the wind was knocked out of me. I took in water. I was tumbling, falling, I had my eyes open and everything was blue, glorious blue, and I felt peaceful. I started floating in these surroundings and could see a bright light above me - that must be the surface. I did not have the energy to swim up and I just gave in. I started to drown. I remember thinking how peaceful it was and how serene and good I felt. I was happy. I don't remember how long I floated there - it could only have been a minute or two - but in that short time I could see vividly my past life, the ones I loved, it was a remarkable experience. I felt very sleepy and started to close my eyes. Suddenly, someone grabbed my hair and pulled me roughly to the surface. As soon as my face hit the surface I started to cough and choke and swallow more water. A hand slapped my back roughly and I felt more pain as I was hauled out of the sea by my hair and onto the rocks where I lay coughing and wheezing. Water was coming down my nose and out of my eyes and mouth. My head buzzed and I could see a blurred shape moving away. I must have lay there for about five minutes spluttering and choking and when I looked around I couldn't see anyone. It is now obvious to me that the locals had been watching me all along. They had watched me go out to the launch, watched my bodged attempts at getting ashore and saved me when I was drowning. My knees and hands were bleeding profusely and my elbows were grazed too. I was trembling and looked at the sea pounding in and felt physically sick. I stood up shakily and the coral hurt my feet. My legs trembling I struggled to get to the beach and sat down and reflected on my terrible experience. Had I nearly drowned? Had I almost gone? I could remember how peaceful it had felt. Were the natives watching me now?
I was still collecting my thoughts when Bernie came down the beach towards me and asked me if I was OK. "I've just nearly drowned." I said. I told him what had happened but he found it hard to accept and laughed the incident off - so typical of Bernie. He never could understand or sympathise with anyone's problems. I was made to feel as though I had grossly exaggerated the whole incident and I returned to the picnic area with him in a confused state of mind. However, I do know that my confusion was not one of "Thank God I am alive" but one of "Well, if that is death, it's not as frightening as you might believe." But I was dreading going back out to the launch.
It was less than an hour before Diana commanded that we all had to go now or else the tide would be against us at Pigeon Island for getting Kyomi ashore. We packed everything up and I froze when I got to the reef. There was no way I could go back into the sea and there was only Diana who could use the dinghy because the tide had gone out so much further it was difficult to launch. I couldn't move. All the others were laughing as they neared the edge of the reef ready to jump in but I just couldn't do it. I started to cry saying I couldn't do it. Two locals, maybe one of them had saved me, came forward and took my hands. They guided me trembling to the edge of the reef and said they would swim out to the launch with me and that I would be safe. Where the hell was Bernie when I needed him. He had walked off and left me, as usual, and yet here were two total strangers helping me back to the boat. I held onto their hands until I must have numbed them with the grip I used. They carefully waited at the sea edge and then said I was to jump with them. The sea was about two feet below the edge of the reef and the waves were pounding onto the rocks. I stood there for what seemed an eternity, everyone else was almost back at the launch, and I looked at these two strangers, tears streaming down my face, and they smiled back and said "No shake shake. We go now." We jumped off the reef into the broiling sea and I started swimming. They swam alongside me until I reached the launch and then they were gone.
The trip back on the launch was very pleasant and dolphins accompanied us all down Devil's Passage jumping high and landing so gracefully in the deep blue sea everyone clapped with enthusiasm. Ross had been trawling for fish on the way back and caught a barracuda. After hauling the fish on board Nuboa and Ross tried to smash its head in whilst its jaws snapped wildly. Everyone thought it was great sport. I felt sick. I suddenly felt even more frightened of the sea. "Never again." I vowed.
It was dark by the time we reached Pigeon Island and at the height of the tide we put Kyomi back to rest in the boat house. What a day it had been. We were all then invited to tea to eat Barracuda - even the labour were given some to eat!
It was just after this trip that we learnt about the horrendous event that occurred when one of the Hepworth's Governesses was swept out to sea down "Devil's Passage". Sheila came from Australia and had been on Pigeon Island for several months. She lovely astronomy and would paddle out to the middle of the bay and lie in her canoe looking up at the stars. One night she paddled out and the gentle lull of the ocean had such a calming effect she fell asleep. She awoke after about two hours to find herself being dragged down Devil's Passage. She tried desperately to paddle to one of the islands but the current was very strong and she lost ground. She screamed out for help but the noise of the sea as it swept her out to the Pacific Ocean drowned her cries. She was hysterical and gripped the sides of the canoe as the waves got higher and the little boat was swept out to sea. The sun was scorching hot and Sheila only had a small piece of cloth that she could cover herself with. She had no water and was open to the elements. She was swept further and further out to sea and the Reef Islands disappeared from view very quickly. In the vast ocean she tried hard not to be scared. Sharks circled the canoe and twice she capsized. She did not know where her strength came from but she righted the canoe each time and managed to wriggle back into the canoe. Each time she thought of the sharks circling close by and cried knowing her situation was desperate. Twice she saw islands on the horizon and paddled frantically in their direction, but the current was too strong and she was taken past them without anyone seeing her. She was very sunburnt and thirsty and she collapsed, exhausted into the bottom of her little canoe and waited to die. Tom and Diana called out for Sheila in the early morning. Where was she? The boys had gone to the school house for their lessons but Sheila was not around and her canoe was missing. Tom and Diana searched the beach, the bay and asked the locals to check the islands to see if she had got into difficulties and landed there. Within 24 hours it was apparent she had gone. Tom sent a cable to Sheila's family in Australia saying that Sheila was "missing, presumed drowned" and after one week accepted Sheila's fate. What a terrible thing to happen.
Sheila came to on a leaf mat in a hut. She was stiff where her skin had scorched in the sun, her lips were blistered and she could not focus properly. She knew there were people around her and one of them lifted her head and put water to her cracked lips. She sipped the water, it was so much effort, and lay back down. For several days she lay there until finally she was able to prop herself up and talk to her saviours. They told her that they had been walking along the beach and noticed a canoe near the edge of the sea. They ran to it and found Sheila lying comatose in the bottom. They were not sure if she was alive but brought her ashore and gradually restored her health. They put coconut oil on her parched skin and just kept feeding her water and fish soup. Sheila was lucky to be alive. She was on a tiny island in the north of the Solomon Islands and had travelled hundreds of miles in her little canoe. The current had taken her on a five day journey that she would never forget.
It was several weeks later that MV Bona came into Mohawk Bay and Tom went out to the ship for the mail. On board was Sheila. The natives who had found her had put her on their local ship which in turn had met up with MV Bona and Sheila made her way back to the Reef Islands. The Hepworths were delighted and immediately cabled Sheila's parents with the good news. They had held a Mass for Sheila, prayed hard and now their prayers had been answered. It was fantastic. However, Sheila now hated the sea, had nightmares about sharks and it wasn't long before she returned to Australia vowing never to return. The Hepworths immediately advertised for a replacement Governess.
Our life on the island was very fraught and we found it extremely difficult working with the Hepworths. Diana's penny-pinching was getting through to me. "It's your turn for the toilet rolls, so I've added six rolls to your account in the store." she stated one day. I felt like retorting that as there were more bums in her family than mine, perhaps she should put a couple of extra rolls in the toilet. My store bill was getting quite costly and Diana commented she thought I was using too much sugar. Sod off! Diana also pointed out that fruit was cheap and I should use more fruit. I felt it humiliating that we were not allowed cash out of the business, and I had to keep asking Tom for a cheque. We had bills to pay for the cargo we had ordered and he wanted to know why we wanted the money. Tom hinted that we were spending too much. I believed he was worried that the figures he had sent us in England were actually incorrect and that we would not be able to survive out here on the finances. I said how expensive I found it here, and nothing like the 90 cents a day he reckoned he and Diana lived on. It cost me 65 cents a day for my house girl and he had a house girl and a cook! From what I could see, they certainly were spending more than what they had told us. He was charging us for diesel for the generator and that was costing quite a bit. Surely they were paying the same amount too? Diana assessed how much gas she thought I was using and charged me accordingly for a gas cylinder that she had installed in the kitchen and been using before our arrival. Why was I accepting all this? I even felt guilty about my medical costs. I needed to pay for the antibiotics that were being sent to me from New Zealand. The bills kept rising.
Poor Bernie had to work with Diana on the maintenance side whilst I worked with Tom on the office side, so he suffered more than I did. Mind you, when Tom said that he had lost $5,000 whilst book-keeping my heart sank. More so when he said it wouldn’t affect us! He was really absent-minded and could never balance the books. He was a risk and the books were not right, and I felt he had got us here under false pretences.
The final crunch for Bernie came when it was copra loading day. The copra is brought to the store by the locals and it is the mature coconut dried in the sun or smoked and we then bagged it into 1 cwt sacks and exported it via Honiara to either America or Britain. The copra is used for many things such as make-up, cooking, and medicine but its main use which made the Hepworths their fortune was during the USA war with Vietnam. The copra was used to make Napalm, the basis for the bombs and flame throwers used by the USA during the conflict. Copra rose in great value during this time and it was these figures the Hepworths based their successful trading on when they gave us the details and cost to buy into the business. Little did we realise that when we arrived out in the Solomons, the war was over, copra price had slumped and this lucrative business we had bought into was no more than a small corner shop. However, copra was still an essential export and our labour would sit and ram the copra into the sacks every day for around 40c a day and we would load it onto the ship when it called and send it to the Honiara Government for them to export to the UK. The ship was anchored in the bay and the labour were out in the copra shed preparing to load the sacks onto the punt to be taken out to the ship. Diana was, as usual, yelling her orders to everyone and Bernie was in the punt which was tied at the end of a long wharf. The copra sacks would be placed onto a wooden slide, this would then be pushed to slide freely down a long wooden ramp to the bottom of the wharf and off-loaded into the punt, thus reducing the manual labour involved. At low tide obviously loading was out of the question but high tide could see some 120 sacks in three trips taken out to the ship in the bay before the tide was too low again. If the tide was too low and there was still copra to be loaded the punt would be moored further out from the wharf each time and the labour would carry the sacks on their backs out to the punt. If the women labour were helping they carried the sacks balanced on their heads out to the punt.
It was early morning and Bernie and the two permanent male labour who lived on the island brought the punt to the wharf. Now Bernie, being a seaman, knew his knots and lines and secured the punt safely to the wharf ready for action. He had just climbed out of the punt onto the wharf when Diana arrived and launched a full tirade at him telling him he had not secured the punt properly and he was to get back into the punt and retie the knots and lines. The mistake she then made was to raise her hand to strike Bernie, as she so often did to the labour, when she became irritated. Bernie exploded. Many arguments were had after this event and we said that if they did not leave on the next ship then we would. We could not stand living with them any longer.
We had no eggs for eight weeks when we arrived on Pigeon Island because orders had not come down from Honiara on the ship and although there were some 20 ducks and 20 chickens on the island, not once did Diana offer me one egg so that I could make the boys a cake. Finally, after I asked her, she agreed to sell me one dozen, but when I complained she was charging me more than they cost to ship from Honiara, she said that it was because her eggs were fresh and those from Honiara might not be! I had no answer - I just paid up! Mind you, as the birds nested wildly you had to scour the island for the nests to collect the eggs. If you had missed a clutch for a few days it was quite normal to crack an egg open and a half-formed duckling fell into the pan or the smell of a decayed egg made the bile rise in your mouth. Fresh eggs had a different meaning on Pigeon Island.
Bernie had far more patience that I had though so he managed to cope reasonably well. He was constantly repairing engines and making spare parts because nothing was available quickly. He worked wonders on engines and I think even Tom was amazed when Bernie got an old Onan engine working that had been standing idle and rusting for some ten years. It hurt Tom and Diana to praise Bernie, but they had to because he had performed a miracle.
Another major job that the Hepworths found Bernie to do was fibreglass the punt. A lot of preparation went into this job and so it was with sheer frustration that Bernie walked away leaving Diana to finish the job alone. She would not listen to Bernie's advice about how much resin to use and she piled it onto the bottom of the punt. Needless to say she ran out of materials after only doing half the job and Bernie had said there was enough material there to do the job with some left over. The punt was left half done for several weeks until more fibreglass arrived and Bernie finished the job to his satisfaction.
Not long after arriving on the island the boys wanted their own canoe. Ross and Bressin were always out in the bay surfing on the waves and our two would look out in envy at them. Occasionally they would borrow the labourer's canoe but it was not a satisfactory arrangement. We contacted the local "craftsman" who said that he would have two canoes ready in just under a month. Sure enough, in just over three weeks he brought the two canoes to the island. They were crudely shaped and the marks of the adze indicated how much work had gone into making the canoes. The deal for them was made very quickly. He wanted a bottle of sherry and $8 for each canoe. I thought it fair. Working as hard as he had chopping the trees down and carving the canoes out, it seemed a small price to pay. Obviously Diana said we should have knocked him down to half price as she never paid more than $4 for a canoe. However, I thought we had had a bargain and the look on the boys' faces when they went for their first trip was worth it all.
Dean painted the canoes bright red and named his "Riski" whilst Darren asked or his to be called "Risk It". The canoes were christened and launched with great ceremony amid much frivolity. Dean soon mastered the art and promptly went off to buy his own paddle from a villager for 50c and became immediately independent and mobile. Darren preferred the local children to paddle him everywhere - I called it laziness but Bernie considered it to be a sign of a future employer!
I obtained a nice canoe shortly afterwards and mine was obviously larger than the boys. I had lost a lot of weight but my bottom still needed a wider base than theirs. I called mine canoe "Padlit" and Bernie and I both used the canoe if we had short trips to make across the way when the tide was high.
It didn't rain for several weeks after our arrival and water was getting short. The two water tanks that provided our main supply were depleting rapidly and as the tanks got more empty so foreign bodies and bits of debris started coming out of the tap. We never got any tummy bugs from drinking the untreated rain water and that surprised me. Every week Diana would spray the tanks and any water holes around the base of the trees with a type of pesticide that killed the mosquito larva. It formed a film over the surface of the water so that when the larva came up to the surface of the water to breathe they were met by this oil slick that killed them. It certainly worked and the island was almost mosquito free. It was agreed that as the tanks were almost empty we should empty the main house tank completely and Nuboa, the main labourer who lived on the island, could get inside the tank and give it a clean. We could not waste any water and so one Sunday we began emptying the tank and carrying buckets of water up the slight hill to the copra shed where the second tank was and began filling that. Tom gave us the buckets to carry from the main house tank and we gave them to Diana who was perched on step ladders who emptied them into the copra shed tank. It was extremely hot work and before long the odd bucket of water was being thrown over everyone and it was great fun. Bernie and I joined in with gusto and although we knew the Hepworths would tell us off for wasting the water we didn’t care. We were getting braver by the day! Soaking wet and laughing we completed the task and Nuboa clambered into the water tank and began cleaning all the dirt and muck off the bottom. It took him quite a time filling buckets with gunge and these, in turn, were passed along the line of helpers and the last one dumped it into the sea. By the end of the afternoon we had a clean water tank. We cleaned out the guttering that supplied the tank, replaced the mesh over the top and waited for it to rain. It would take some time to fill the tank again, it must have held several thousand gallons of water. In the days we waited for it to rain, we rationed our water but it was only about a week before the heavens opened and a deluge started filling the tank. I stood under the guttering at the side of the house where there was a hole and the water was cascading down and had a wash outside in the garden. The water was warm and it was lovely feeling fresh and clean. We had been having showers, but very short ones, so this long one was great. I had just rinsed off the soap when the rain ceased. Perfect timing.
I sat in the office working on some papers when Tom came in. He seemed very secretive and busied himself getting papers out of his drawer. He didn’t say anything and went back to the guest house. It never crossed my mind to question what he was doing, but I found out afterwards that he was getting all the paperwork out to do with Solair. He was claiming a refund of the cost of the charter from Espiritu Santo to Santa Cruz from Solair due to the terrible problems that their pilot's delay had caused. Diana was still upset that Ferdi had not been able to visit her. Tom was quite right in asking for the refund, but when I heard that he had been successful in obtaining it but he had not paid us back our share of the charter, I felt aggrieved. I felt even worse when I found out later that he had charged us more for the charter than the others. He knew how tight money was with us, yet he pocketed our share of the charter and never offered us a penny of the compensation he had received.
In those first two months we had never worked so hard and coupled with the arguments, Bernie handed our notice in. Each time the Hepworths talked us out of it. We couldn't cope with their tightness and their disciplines. They ruled the roost and anyone who disobeyed were taken aside and given a good talking to. Bernie could not handle this and blew a fuse regularly. I was quite happy to leave the island too, I certainly had found it difficult to converse with Diana and I quite warmed to the idea of going home. Much as I hate admitting defeat in anything I do, I was happy on this occasion to pack up and leave.
Although the Hepworths had settled for what money we could put into the business, they still made sure they had full interest paid to them which cost us something like $110 per month. They were on a winning streak all along, but we had so badly wanted to try island life we had verbally agreed to the contract. We felt uneasy and hemmed in - and tomorrow we were going to sign the contract finally before they set off for the UK the day after. It was when they produced a letter they intended sending to the bank that we finally decided to leave.
The letter was to advise the bank we were junior partners in the firm and what signatures would be needed on cheques etc. Two signatures would be required for settling PIT's accounts but if a cheque was made out to one of the partners, all four partners had to sign. We baulked at this but it was the paragraph that read:-
"Two payments by bankers orders will be required on the first day of each month commencing 1st June 1978. Firstly a payment of $50 each month to account number ****** (Bernard and Carole Gibbs) and secondly a sustenance payment, in sterling, to the equivalent of $700 to account number ***** (Tom and Diana Hepworth) with Barclays Bank, London. With the latter payment, a detailed statement of account will be required. Barclays will forward this and any correspondence to Mr Hepworth whilst he is in Europe."
We couldn't believe it. We would not sign. In fact we advised Tom that we had had enough and would be leaving on the next ship ourselves. How on earth could we survive on $50 a month? He said we could have produce from out of the store to live on! A heated argument took place and I think panic set in because Tom came back with another letter setting out to the bank details of the business arrangements but this time omitting the payment to ourselves, agreeing that we could draw our allowance in cash from the store as we needed it and record this separately. He still got his $700.
It was with enormous relief that on the 25th April 1978 the Hepworths all boarded the MV Bona to leave Pigeon Island for a short time to visit relatives in the UK. It was agreed they would leave with a big send-off and the lads, together with Tasha and the locals, collected all the palm leaf that had fallen around the island and build a huge bonfire on the beach just as the tide was receding. Great fun was had by all and even Bernie joined in piling the fronds high ready to ignite at dusk. Just before the Hepworths were due to leave we lit the fire - it glowed brightly on the beach and all the locals from the village across the bay, Nandeli, came across and joined in the hilarity as flames licked the sky. We sat on the beach watching the fire burn fiercely and Leonie brought us down a cold drink which we swallowed with relish. It was very pleasant.
Although the ship was due to leave at 10.30 pm the Hepworths went out to the ship at 7.30 pm so that they could get settled on board. The cabin had already been booked by others so all except Tom, who was flying from Santa Cruz to Honiara, were travelling to Honiara as deck passengers. A five day trip. I didn't envy them one bit. At around 8.00 pm Bernie, Leonie and myself sat down for a meal on the veranda and looked out to the bay at the ship anchored there, her lights shining brightly in the eerie darkness. We imagined the Hepworths on the deck looking back at us checking what we were up to. Leonie and I felt mellow from the gin we had found but Bernie wanted to go back down to the beach and re-light the bonfire. We couldn't be bothered. The ship didn’t leave until just after 11.30 pm and we stood on an outcrop, waved goodbye with an enthusiasm that had been missing for a long time, and for the sheer hell of it too we left the generator running until midnight. What a stupid way to rebel - but we felt good afterwards.
