Joan took hold of the household with no uncertain
grip, revolutionizing things till Sheldon hardly recognized
the place. For the first time the bungalow was
clean and orderly. No longer the house-boys loafed
and did as little as they could; while the cook complained
that “head belong him walk about too much,”
from the strenuous course in cookery which she put
him through. Nor did Sheldon escape being roundly
lectured for his laziness in eating nothing but tinned
provisions. She called him a muddler and a slouch,
and other invidious names, for his slackness and his
disregard of healthful food.
She sent her whale-boat down the coast twenty miles
for limes and oranges, and wanted to know scathingly
why said fruits had not long since been planted at
Berande, while he was beneath contempt because there
was no kitchen garden. Mummy apples, which he
had regarded as weeds, under her guidance appeared
as appetizing breakfast fruit, and, at dinner, were
metamorphosed into puddings that elicited his unqualified
admiration. Bananas, foraged from the bush, were
served, cooked and raw, a dozen different ways, each
one of which he declared was better than any other.
She or her sailors dynamited fish daily, while the
Balesuna natives were paid tobacco for bringing in
oysters from the mangrove swamps. Her achievements
with cocoanuts were a revelation. She taught
the cook how to make yeast from the milk, that, in
turn, raised light and airy bread. From the tip-top
heart of the tree she concocted a delicious salad.
From the milk and the meat of the nut she made various
sauces and dressings, sweet and sour, that were served,
according to preparation, with dishes that ranged
from fish to pudding. She taught Sheldon the
superiority of cocoanut cream over condensed cream,
for use in coffee. From the old and sprouting
nuts she took the solid, spongy centres and turned
them into salads. Her forte seemed to be salads,
and she astonished him with the deliciousness of a
salad made from young bamboo shoots. Wild tomatoes,
which had gone to seed or been remorselessly hoed out
from the beginning of Berande, were foraged for salads,
soups, and sauces. The chickens, which had always
gone into the bush and hidden their eggs, were given
laying-bins, and Joan went out herself to shoot wild
duck and wild pigeons for the table.
“Not that I like to do this sort of work,”
she explained, in reference to the cookery; “but
because I can’t get away from Dad’s training.”
Among other things, she burned the pestilential hospital,
quarrelled with Sheldon over the dead, and, in anger,
set her own men to work building a new, and what she
called a decent, hospital. She robbed the windows
of their lawn and muslin curtains, replacing them
with gaudy calico from the trade-store, and made herself
several gowns. When she wrote out a list of
goods and clothing for herself, to be sent down to
Sydney by the first steamer, Sheldon wondered how
long she had made up her mind to stay.
