Being older than I, Gordon was often ordered to take a team of horses with a load of timber to New Norfolk or Molesworth. I was left to work with Dan Miller, from whom I learned most of my tricks in cables and pulley blocks. He also taught me how to splice steel cables. Miller was an old sailor and knowledgeable on ropes and hauling equipment. He was also the most fluent swearer I have ever heard. His invectives were staggering when things did not go his way. He was entertaining, and sometimes shocking, for his oratory consisted of words that were not only unprintable but unknown to me. Some of the men were plain, rough fellows who schooled us in language beyond our years. Fortunately our basic Christian upbringing supported us through those years and we could never bring ourselves to reuse their language.
One of the rare holiday highlights of this period was when Dan Miller took our family on an excursion in his ship “The Nellie Noble”. This was a sixty foot sailing vessel in which were piled Father, Ida, Gordon and myself. I am not sure of the others. Miller was the captain and the crew, with Father as the First Mate. So we set out on a unique adventure down the d’Entrecasteaux Channel, a long stretch of water that ran for many miles south from Hobart toward the open sea. It was named after the Frenchman who searched these waters for the wrecked ships of La Perouse. It was fun for a while, with the breeze and the spray fanning our faces, giving us a taste of the sea that was romping along with us. Then as we moved away from land, and the monotonous hours hung on our hands we felt confined, then bored, then scared as the sea tossed our boat about.
And then sick! I changed colour, so they told me, and decidedly changed my mind about this kind of holiday. I crawled into the little cabin and wished for land. Dan Miller could have it! The sea was his life, but it was not for me. On shore there was action, interest and room to ramble, besides a host of mates. Here on board you were a captive of the captain and confined to the gunwales of his craft. There was no escape, and you were supposed to enjoy it. We did call at several places to break our journey, and the fish were plentiful and hungry at one particular spot. We could see them lying on the white sand of the sea floor, and as soon as a line was thrown out they would dart up to get the bait. Often we would catch two on a single line with two hooks. Some years later I worked with Uncle Fritz clearing land on an island near this spot, and we had the same experience with these fish, flathead. That was a lonely place and a worthless job.
