_AN AUCKLAND TABLE D'HÔTE._
The afternoon was closing in, so collecting the luggage required for
immediate use, and locking the rest of our come-at-able belongings
in our cabins, we made haste to get on board the same boat that had
brought me out. My spirits had slightly revived, as it had occurred to
me that very probably the caravan and its appurtenances would show to
better advantage by gaslight.
Queen Street Wharf was soon reached, and having settled the waterman's
claim, I hailed a cab, into which we all bundled, and in a short
time found ourselves at our destination. Summoning the landlady, and
requesting her to show my wife the sleeping apartments, I stayed behind
to see to the luggage, and--I don't mind confessing--to allow her time
to get over the first shock.
Entering our bedroom a little later with the portmanteaus, I was
greatly pleased and surprised to find my wife apparently reconciled
to the surroundings, her only remark on the subject being that it was
a queer-looking place, and not much bigger than our cabin. She was
greatly puzzled as to whether she ought to change her dress for an
evening one before appearing in the public room, but I emphatically
assured her--having the skittle alley in my eye--that it was quite
unnecessary, and we remained chatting until a tinkling bell announced
that tea was served.
A strange scene awaited us on entering the eating shed. Some twelve or
fourteen men--I beg pardon, gentlemen--and five ladies were seated on
as many rough-looking kitchen chairs, busily engaged in attacking the
comestibles placed before them.
A few--a very decided few--contented themselves with making the fork
the medium of communication between their food and their mouths, but
the greater majority used for this purpose both knives and forks with
equal skill and success.
At our entrance they paused momentarily from their labour of love, and
favoured us with grins which seemed to say, "What confounded idiots
you are to come here." One lady of angular aspect, and with hair of the
corkscrew type of architecture, smiled affably, however, and, reassured
by her complacency, we seated ourselves at her end of the table.
The gentlemen, who, with three exceptions, sat in their shirt sleeves,
were too deeply engrossed in the work before them to converse, and the
clatter of knives and forks was for some time the only sound heard.
We sat gazing at the scene, until a husky voice from behind demanded
"Chops or 'am and eggs!" and recalled to our minds the object of our
visit. Having decided in favour of chops, some black cindery looking
bits of meat and bone were placed before us--resembling the delicious
grilled chops of the London chop-house about as nearly as a bushman's
stew resembles a _vol-au-vent â la financière_.
I managed to stay the pangs of hunger with the assistance of some
hunches of stale bread, plates of which were ranged at intervals down
the centre of the table. My poor wife, however, could scarcely eat
anything. As soon as we decently could, for the coatless gentry were
still at work, we retired to our rooms, both wife and self depressed in
spirits, Mary Ann sulky, and the children in a state of subdued mutiny.
"We will get out of this wretched hole to-morrow, so cheer up, dear,"
I exclaimed to my wife after a prolonged silence. "It's past seven
o'clock now, and if you don't want me, I'll take a stroll down the
town, and get something for supper."
Off I went, and soon reached Queen Street, the principal thoroughfare
of the town, which, to my great surprise, I found in semi-darkness, the
only places lighted up being the hotels and tobacconists' shops.
"No chance of getting anything for supper here," I thought, as I turned
up a street which I concluded must lead back to H---- Street. I had not
proceeded more than three hundred yards when I espied to my great joy
a small shop with a blaze of light in the window, above which shone
forth the legend "Oyster Saloon." With quickened step I approached,
and peering in, beheld a remarkably neatly dressed and pretty young
lady standing behind a little counter, and apparently fully occupied
in doing nothing. On the counter stood some pickle bottles filled with
extremely unpleasing-looking objects resembling large white slugs,
while a heap of oysters with curiously corrugated shells were piled in
one corner.
Entering the establishment, I requested in polite terms to be informed
the price of oysters.
"A bob a bottle!" replied the ministering angel behind the counter.
"A bob a bottle!" I repeated. "May I ask if that's colonial for a
shilling a dozen?"
"Oh! I see you're a new chum!" responded the young lady, in tones of
mild contempt. "Well, oysters ain't sold here by the dozen; they are
sold by the bottle! There are about four or five dozen, I reckon,
in one of these!" indicating the bottles on the counter, with their
revolting-looking contents.
"But are those really good to eat?" I stammered.
"Try them!" she replied, spooning from a bottle about a dozen on to a
plate, and pushing it, together with a fork and a pepper-box, before me.
Screwing up my courage, I got one into my mouth, another quickly
followed, and in a remarkably short space of time the plate was emptied.
"Capital! By Jove! I could not have believed they would be so good!" I
exclaimed. "They don't, you must confess, look very tempting in those
bottles?"
"Well, perhaps not," said the fair one; "but, you see, these oysters
grow firm on the rocks, and they are easy to open when fixed there by
tapping the back of the upper shell with a hammer, but are terrors to
tackle when loose like those," pointing to the heap in the corner.
"Besides," she continued, holding up a bottle, "they are so much more
convenient like this. Why, you would want a hand-barrow to carry five
dozen of them in their shells!"
"But how do you keep them fresh?" I demanded.
"Oh!" said my entertainer, "boys pick them fresh for us every day, and
what are not sold are thrown away!"
Oh! ye epicures of London, with Whitstables at three and nine per
dozen, and Colchesters at two and six, think on this--oysters pitched
away daily, probably in hundreds, possibly in thousands! Grind your
teeth with envy; but take my advice, stay where you are. You are not
the sort for the colony, and living _isn't all oysters_.
However, to resume. The oysters were so good that I asked for more, and
invited the young damsel to join me; but she declined, and asked, in
the course of conversation, what hotel I was staying at.
I explained that, having a long family and a short purse, hotels were
too expensive, and that we had that afternoon taken possession of a
portion of a boarding-house in H---- Street, which said portion we had
fully determined upon restoring to its owners on the morrow.
"Why not take apartments?" she rejoined.
"Apartments!" I almost yelled. "Why, I have been prowling about for the
best part of the day trying my utmost to find some, but could not see a
single house with a card in the window!"
"The idea! as if any lady would put a low card in her window," she
sneered. "But if you want apartments, my ma has some to let, and I'll
take you there, and introduce you, if you like."
With much joy I acquiesced in the proposal, and having settled my
account, and procured a bottle of oysters for home consumption, we
proceeded to the maternal residence.