Pioneers Of Our South Coast 

Mary Broughton's Pages for Women Readers - The Chronicle, January 25 1968

DEAR CHRONICLE READERS, 

It's not often nowadays that we hear tales of the past told from an old fashioned rocking chair. But that was my experience the other day when I heard Mrs. G. E. Buck (born Grace Emily Rumbelow) tell me stories of her early life as she looked back over her 83 years. 

Yes, 83 on January 7, the day on which she unveiled a family memorial stone in the old Tabernacle Cemetery, Encounter Bay. 

These early stories, so a neighbor of Mrs Rumbelows told me, Grace had hoped to tell you herself, but it seems that they were destined to wait until the time of the unveiling. The memorial stone is to Mrs Rumbelows aunt Anne, and two of her uncles, Godfrey and David, children of Malen and Alice Rumbelow who arrived in SA in 1854, from Suffolk, England. 

There were other children and of these Malen became Mrs Rumbelows father. As each child came along it was known as "ween" (spelling uncertain) and whether this was to denote the "weeniest" child of the brood at the time or whether it meant another child to be weaned, Mrs. Buck does not know. It may even be an old Suffolk word, perhaps a shortened form of weanel or weanling. 

But that is just by the way. Mrs Rumbelow, born Grace Emily, is the last surviving member of the eight children in her family, four boys and four girls, who spent their early years in Rumbelow Town. The Rumbelows, along with Nicolas Baudin, Matthew Flinders and the wild and woolly whalers, made the history of Encounter Bay, and her father's sister, Carrie, became the heroine in Simpson Newland's book, "Paving the Way." 

Thirteen years ago (1955) the family commemorated the centenary of its arrival by holding a service in front of the old home of Mrs Buck's parents. Her father was only eight years old when the family landed at Pt. Adelaide and then began their trek around the coast by bullock dray. 

The house, Yeltanna, was built by her father from stone obtained from West Island off The Bluff. Simpson Newland describes the island as "only a few acres in extent and principally composed of granite boulders." 

Mr Oliver, a contractor, would take several men to the island on Mondays and collect them on Saturday mornings. In the meantime they lived in shacks and tents and cut granite. The "chips" as they were called became part of the Rumbelow home. It was the superior "cut" granite from this same island that provided the stone for Parliament House. 

It was in Yeltanna that Mrs Rumbelow was born and also one of her daughters. As her mother said, "Your girl was born in the same room but not in the same bed." 

Alongside was Whaler's Haven, where her grandfather and grandmother Rumbelow lived. She told how it was called the Crystal Palace by Captain Parkes and his family when they came for a visit. 

Some of them had to stay at the Shanty which had just been vacated by some young fellows who had left bones and other debris in their wake. So in comparison the Haven was like the Crystal Palace, a name that stuck. 

Young Grace Rumbelow used to gather sea snails or warrener's as delicacies for the Captain, so when the Captain returned to town he used to send her his "warreners" in the form of peaches. What a treat they must have been! 

At first, Mrs Rumbelows father worked among the whalers, cutting blubber from inside the whale. This was done, according to Mrs Bucks son, Steven (who took up the story now and then), by walking into the whales interior through its propped-up mouth. What an occupation!

Mrs Rumbelow can remember the time when a whale came into the Bay just off The Bluff between Wright Island and the old jetty. 

Fishermen made some attempt to bag this unexpected leviathan, but as they had only an old whale gun and the cartridge or charger had perished, the all-important dart failed to work. One of the young men had been told to stand by and pick up the whaleboat, but when he saw the whale he took off quicks-mart for The Bluff instead. 

But it was fishing rather than whaling that occupied the lives of the Rumbelows and each of her four brothers, Henry, Malen, Godfrey and Cain had their appointed tasks, like most children of the day. 

Godfrey was not really cut out for the fisherman's life for he was always sea-sick often times to the point of bringing up blood. So his job was to take the fish to market in town and send consignments interstate to Ballarat. Two central buildings in Rumbelow Town were the Fish Shop, with its two rooms, known as the Bachelor's Hall, and the Fish Shed. Here Mrs. Buck herself used to help scale the mullet ("any of us could do that") while Henry would "cut" and Malen would "gut." 

Since there was no ice or refrigeration in those days the only way of keeping fish was to smoke it. That meant first of all filling kerosene tins with water and then putting enough salt in till a fresh egg would float in it. There was then enough brine to cure the fish. 

After that part of the process they would be spread out on benches to drain for a certain time, then sliced down the back right through from the tail to the head and then threaded on wire through the eyes. Once this grisly procedure was over they were hung up in the three smokerooms in which the smell of burnt sawdust filled the air. 

Most important of course were the fishing boats. These were the Rambler, the Spray and the Ferret. 

And such a day it was, said Mrs Rumbelow. She remembers looking from the front door which was half glass and directly in line with Wright Island and it was the only time she saw spray flung up behind it. 

In contrast, the night before had been so calm that the men had had to row the sailing boat into her moorings, but the next had carried her bow and stern ashore to return her to the old fish shed. 

Mrs. Buck said that her father used to take the fishing cutter, the Rambler, to Kingscote, K.I., with the ballot boxes for the elections. On one occasion while her father was there, Bert Buck, the eldest boy of the family, who later became Captain Buck of the Minnipa, asked her father if he could return with him in the Rambler for a trip. 

While on the mainland Bert was asked to stay and help with the fishing when Grace Rumbelow's father became ill. And it was while Bert was living with the Rumbelows that his mother invited the eldest sister, Alice, to stay on the Island where the family lived at North Cape. 

The Buck family came over in the Duke of York in 1837 (remember our K.I. letters?). Then it was Grace's turn to go to the Island and that's how she met Bert's brother and became Mrs. Buck. 

It was some years afterwards that she set out for the church in a little hooded trap and horse. It was a great day indeed her father carried her into the church and her husband carried her out. Do you raise your eyebrows as I did? Well, Mrs Rumbelow explained the phenomenon by saying that there was a flood on at the time so she was always able to say to her daughters, "You'll never be married the way I was." 

She would have liked the Rev. Dr. Jefferis to perform the ceremony, but she remained loyal to her own minister, the Rev. David Wellington. Dr. Jefferis, of the Brougham Congregational Church, North Adelaide, had become a great friend of the family when he stayed near their home at the Fountain Inn. 

This historic old place, built in 1837, still stands along the seafront, although its old outside staircase that led to the attic has long since rotted away. The first proprietor was a man named Robinson, host to the "rude, bold, often lawless men who hunted the monster of the deep," as Simpson Newland describes them. 

It is now called Yelki or Yilki, meaning farm by the sea, a name derived from the portion of land here that was surveyed even earlier than Adelaide. The present little post office on the sea-front is also called Yilki.

Of course many are the stories attached to the old inn, one of them a ghost story. But the ghosts were found to be hundreds of shell-back snails crawling four-deep up the walls, making sounds like shuffling feet in heavy sand. 

Among the many whose names are connected with the old inn, either as residents or visitors are the Rev. Canon Honner, Samuel Wells and Mr. W. Smith (whose son still lives on his farm at the Bay and was at the unveiling ceremony). On that day he said to Mrs Rumbelow. "I still class you as a neighbor". 

The Rev. Dr. Jefferis used to conduct church services in the Inn's dining room and here, after the cricket matches on the Cricket Paddock on the beach side of the old Tabernacle cemetery, the losing side would have to shout tea to the winners. (I wonder what the whalers would have said to that?) 

Mrs. Buck showed me a photo of the old dining room with tables set for afternoon tea on the day of the opening in 1919 of the Jefferis Memorial Congregational Church. After Dr. Jefferis died his widow promised to donate the land if residents could build a church within 12 months. And so they did with the help of Mrs Rumbelow's mother who provided the stone. 

Some of you have probably seen the little limestone church off the main road at the back of Yilki. Here Mrs Rumbelows three daughters were married and Steven's name is on the Sunday School roll of honor. 

These little country churches have a great past in their own way, and embody the sum total of the fellowship of a district, I think, and all the momentous occasions in personal and community life. One feels that some- where the close bond between such people must still remain as part of the spirit of the district. 

Think of the old Tabernacle Church, the cemetery of which some of you have no doubt passed on the Tabernacle road to the sea. (I'm sure "Talisker Talk" could tell us much about this from her research on South Coast churches). "Such history," said my sister who was with me when we looked at the names on some of the graves here. 

"William John Ross Donnelly, only son of the late Captain William Fuller of her Majesty's 59th Regiment and grandson of General Fuller." And here, among the mauve scabious and dry grass of summer lie two children whose names are engraved on this copper ta- blet, Samuel Grosvenor Hargreaves 61 and John Herbert Barratt 2 years, grandsons of Edward Grosvenor. "Poor things" we say as we turn to look at another name, Jagger, an old pioneering family. 

One of the Jagger's tombstones, according to Mrs Rumbelow, was broken off by a passing motorist one stormy night during a flood and used to carry him to safety! So much for the pioneers! Mathew Jagger came out in the same ship, the Lord Hobart, as Ridgway Newland in 1839 and their homestead still stands, with its stone outbuildings on a rise above Encounter Bay on the road to Petrel Cove. 

And everyone knew everyone else, even in Victor, right up to the 1940s. Mrs Rumbelow's mother, as Mary Glastonbury, worked for the Newlands and Mary Jagger taught Mrs. Buck at Sunday School and Herbert Smith's sister Mabel married one of the Jaggers! So every family was woven together in associations that made up the warm and homely texture of pioneering life. 

The spirit of the past must have been overwhelmingly present to Mrs. Buck when she unveiled the stone just inside the Tabernacle gate. Laurie, her eldest nephew, who organised the setting up of the stone was among the 150 people present, most of them Rumbelows. The monument to the Tabernacle itself states that it was erected in 1846, the first Congregational Church in the Southern District and the Rev. Ridgway Newland was the first pioneer pastor of the South. The cemetery, with its new entrance gates has recently been restored by the "generous donations of talents, time, money and material from people interested in preserving our heritage." 

On the day of the unveiling, Ken, the youngest son of Mrs. Godfrey Rumbelow, (now 97) sang the solo and the Rev. L. G. C. Pleass officiated. Mrs Rumbelow was presented with a birthday posy, which she showed me, of forget me nots, roses, gaillardias diosma and haste- to-the-wedding. so never say flowers don't grow at the Bluff," her son Steven said. They came from the garden of Whaler's Haven, which is now preserved as a museum by Mr. and Mrs. R. P. Tilbrook.

Some of you may have visited this old Rumbelow home which was moved piece by piece from its original site to one nearer the Bluff. Although white ants had eaten part of it, most of the layered or laced weather- board belonged to the old cottage. Some of it was sent to Adelaide to be re-planed and new shingles (the original had been replaced by galvanized iron) were obtained from Tas- mania and cut by an old-time shingle splitter. 

Some of the original furniture of the Rumbelow home is still to be seen inside a cedar chiffonier, settee, chest of drawers and an early model phonograph made in Germany. Relics of whaling days are there in plenty from whalebone backscratchers to toggle-type harpoons. There's also a boomerang of the Encounter Bay tribe, given by Mrs Rumbelow. 

I asked her about the natives and she says she remembers their wurlies on Shannon Point by the Inman River. But only two native words did she learn, Pinchatowie (sugar) and Yawonga (where are you going?)

On one occasion on her way home from school she was confronted by a native with feathers stuck on his head, so she took to her heels and ran. Her brother Malen came to the rescue as she called "blacks, blacks." He tried to calm her by telling her they were probably preparing for a corroboree for one of the lubras who had died. It was some time however, before Grace ventured forth to school again. 

There was also the time when the natives thought Malen was dead when he came floating ashore and then stood up and walked. So the next time when he was stung in the stomach by a stingray, they were not prepared to help him until they saw the blood rising to the surface of the water. 

Tales and more tales! We could go on forever. Just as I was leaving, Steven showed me a large old photo on the wall of his mother's front room his Grandfather Buck (in hard hitter) with his family, and another of his father taking a load of grain into Kingscote with 12 yoked oxen. Steven said you could hear him swearing miles away sure sign of a good bullocky! Then there's great-grandfather Rumbelow's diary. But that must wait. 

In the meantime, if you happen to be in the vicinity of old Rumbelow Town and want some fresh fish or some petrol from the seaside pump, then call in and see Mrs. Malen Rumbelow at the store. She'll be surprised how much you know about the family, especially when you say that there have been five generations of that name in SA, that it's pronounced Maylen and spelt with an E, instead of the commonly misspelt I. 

And now, greetings to Mrs Rumbelow and Steven, and then to all readers everywhere. 

Mary Broughton.