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Codes of Survival -Scripts - a series of short factionalized stories based
on historical events in the Subantarctic Islands written by Lloyd Godman
to accompany the exhibition and installation - 1993 - © Lloyd Godman
Codes of
Survival - Scripts
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1877 - THE NELSONS
It was such a pitiful sight. Two people bedraggled in isolation. Dressed in rags, unkept and half hungary by the look of them.
They looked as if they could do with a good bathe in a
warm bath and a bar of soap. They had been nine months
without being visited by any soul, and were almost demented
with their own presence it seemed to us. As alone as one
could be. Yet they refused to come away no matter how we
tried to persuade them. We offered them a free passage with us more than once and still they were adamant in their desire to
stay down here. They may have been a close couple that liked isolation, but staying here by themselves was just plain folly.
They may have been half simple too, for we could see no
reason to stay. I suppose the woman must have had to
endure the worst of it, at times it must be shocking. It was
hard to imagine why they would want to prevail in this
lonely land at the
end of the earth.
These people, they didn't really have to be here, they didn't have to come and disturb us. We
don't need them. All they seem to want to do is
talk us into going away from here. This is our place, we know it and we'll be here when all these blighters have gone I can bet you of that. We
won't go. Bloody old Watts has probably
been in
cahoots with Monkton with this lot, I
reckon they'r all out to get us off here.
Bastards all of them. There's no way we'll go,
not a show at what they'r planning. Wev'e
got strength that they
couldn't guess at.
The man was probably coercing his poor wife to stay here.
He was conspicuously resentful of their failure to farm this
land and the intention to replace them. It ppeared that the
run holder Dr Monkton who was trying to make a go of
this place had replaced them with another farm manager, a Mr Watts in 1875, and he was to take over, but this man and his
wife had refused to accept the termination of their position
and just would not return to New Zealand  . We had heard a
report before we arrived down here, that they had no
intention of co-operating with the plan for them to return, and stubbornly remained. So they had been down here
independently since then surviving by themselves. It seemed that Monkton had secured the first grazing lease from the
Dominion Government, but the whole venture had been a
disaster from my limited observations, as the land was
not good for this purpose, sailing and supplies were
difficult and this trouble with the Nelson's was
a sad affair also.
The way the bastards looked at me.
I could feel their lewd eyes, I knew what
they were up to. They scanned their look all over us, I could see them shake their heads
and look down upon us with a frown. But James and I are going to stay, nothing surer,
the bastards who do they think they are. We'll be able to make a go of this place when they all go and there's just us. James can do it,
I know he can. We know how to
break in this land properly for the stock.
We could clear away the thick scrub
much better than Watts. Bloody Watts
hasn't got a clue. Lazy blighter. It won't
be long until they pack him up and we
can have a proper go once more. It seemed they had seen a few people in the years they were
down here. They talked of meeting the German Transit of Venus Expedition in 1874  and spending a few evenings with them. There was the infrequent visit from the "Awarua" that would call in to check supplies at the castaway depots, and they had also had some contact with the "Gazelle" that came here in search of the "General Grant's "  gold. No one knows if they
ever found it, as they disappeared on the return trip never to
be seen again. It was said they sank, but maybe
they were secretive about there find and sailed
off to a discreet port. But these past nine
months must have been hell
for these two, no one at all had visited.
We're steadily building up a good stash
of top grade seal skins, in time they'll be
worth a fortune  . Once we get that lot back
to New Zealand and sell them for a top price.
That will fix old Monkton and Watts when
we have got enough to buy out his lease. If we
can just keep going, we'll be able to do it in no time. I know we have had to borrow a
few items from the castaway stores to keep
us going. Only bits and pieces over a
long time, and I know the provision depots
look a bit bare at the moment, but we can
easily replace them with the extra money
from the skins. And if we cant', once we
make a go of it and we have a bit more money, we'll be able to replace it all
and everything will be
square once more.
This poor couple showed us the results of their strenuous
efforts and all it amounted to was little more than a
few seal skins. They had been here for years, since 1874
in fact, and in all that time all they had accrued was
these few motley skins. It was pathetic, what the hell were they about. I can't figure them out. I kept eyeing them over in
wonder at their stupidity. The woman looked so badly,
and I could hardly keep an eye from her, rough were her hands, worn her sealskin coat and the skin around her neck
was thick in the folds with worn in grime. If one dared to
look there might have been enough dirt in her ears to
grow potatoes. It was so hard to glance away,
as I had never seen such a pathetic woman,
even in the worst squalor of London,
it was sickening to say the least. The blighters, all they could do was stand and gawk. Stare us up and down. Is that all they thought we were good for a snigger, a giggle.
Lord knows what they really thought. Had
they never seen keen people before. Could they not see we were thin and fit with work,
they were so a fat and typical of lazy
affluent oafs, it nearly made me sick.
They wanted us to fail, I could tell,
just like Watt's and Monkton.
They'll see we were right in the end,
we'll work hard. James and I will stay
here until we win a Pound
I'd bet on that.
Even if they were indignant about their sacking, did they
really have to stay here? What were they trying to prove,
and to whom? There was also the shocking question of the
castaway stores. Right back in 1875 they were suspected
by some of raiding the provision depots for their own
needs, and it seemed that they had continued to do so
for all these years  . Even the very boots they wore
appeared to have come from the stores depot. There
was little doubt that they had made constant raids
on the provision depots on the islands from our
observations. These had been set here for the relief
of any desperate castaways, not for the welfare of
these self inflicted introverted hermits  .
We didn't want their offers of help. It was
all aimed at getting us off the island.
But we're steadfast. James only asked them
for one thing, a pocket watch. We both
longed to see the hands turn round and
round and keep track of the passing hours.
James had lost his in the thick scrub
behind our dwelling. The bastards couldn't
even give us that. It proved they were
in cahoots with Watts alright, couldn't
even spare a watch. The sooner they go
off again the better. Bastards all of them.
Just go and leave us alone.
The man asked if we could lend him a pocket watch.
Said he had lost it in the scrub and he could do with
another one. What would anyone need a watch for
in a land like this? The only one we had was a present
from my father and though I felt stingy at not being able to offer them the one thing they wished for, I just could not.
They would have to be the strangest pair I have ever met
and seem like white aboriginals without a tribe in
the isolation of the antipodes.
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