A VOYAGE TO NEW ZEALAND
It was a bright summer's morning. Somewhere about noon the good clipper,
the New Zealand Shipping Company's _Waipa_, slipped her cable and was
taken in tow down the old River Thames. Her skipper was a good sea salt;
he was a Scotsman all right. His name was Gorn. I had been allotted my
cabin. I was, of course, unable to move without help, but I did look
forward to getting better as the good old ship moved to the south and
worked into warmer tropical climes. The days are now past to go to the
other end of the world--the farthest end, anyhow, then known--in a
sailing ship. We had three months' voyage in front of us. We were to call
nowhere; we were just to sail merrily along for three solid months, till
we reached our first port of call, Port Chalmers, in New Zealand.
Our passengers were not many in what we called the saloon--three New
Zealanders, who had made money as shepherds and then become owners of
sheep stations, and a few intending settlers in that beautiful land,
retired officers and ex-clergymen, with their families, took up the
available first-class accommodation. The remainder of the passengers, of
whom there were a good many, were emigrants of both sexes, a happy,
contented crowd, many of whom were looking forward to the better
conditions of life which New Zealand offered them through her commercial
agents in London.
I well remember how soon our small troubles began. Perhaps the only real
trouble was our medical officer. He was the doctor in charge of the ship,
and was kind and attentive, but, even before we reached the Doldrums,
which was about a third of the way, we were not surprised to find there
were no medical comforts left. Our worthy captain was very much
concerned, especially as about that time the potatoes had given out, the
fresh meat had been consumed--even to the last poor fowl--and the
so-called baker declared that he was absolutely unable to give us any
decent bread. So we had a lively two months to look forward to.
Personally I did not mind. Instead of getting better, as the weather got
warmer I became worse. I was taken every day from my bunk into one of the
ship's boats, which hung on the side, and made as comfortable as I could
be, and got as much fresh air as was available. Everyone was kind, and,
in the absence of any pain, I was not unhappy. But I did not look forward
with any degrees of pleasure to the time when, on crossing the line, we
should leave the warm climates, and, picking up the south-easterly trades
off the South American coast, enter the cold regions through which the
rest of the voyage had to be made. But one never knows. My friend, the
doctor, who had been most sanguine in promising me the full use of my
limbs as the weather became warmer, was more than puzzled, so much so
that I fancied he fully anticipated my final collapse as soon as the cold
weather came on; and I sometimes thought, too, that he did regret that
the medical comforts in his charge had been consumed so early in the
voyage.
Well, we reached the tropics, and for three days the Doldrums held us.
They had the usual festivities when crossing the Line, and Father Neptune
visited us. Our worthy captain pleased all the passengers by the hearty
way in which he entered into all their amusements. From my perch in my
boat I enjoyed what I then thought were the last few days I had to live.
Then came the day when a slight ripple appeared in the calm waters, which
presaged a light breeze. This breeze turned into a fairly strong
wind--and we had picked up the south-easterly trade. To my great relief,
and to the very considerable astonishment of the doctor, from that moment
I began to improve. As, each day, we made to the south, the cooler became
the wind and the rougher the sea. It was a fine trade wind, and we bowled
along with all sail set doing our eight or nine knots an hour day and
night. And each day I felt better. Before we doubled the Cape of Good
Hope and entered the long stretch which, tracking along the Southern
Seas, due east, was to land us in New Zealand, I was actually walking
with some slight help, and from that time onwards I improved to such an
extent that I was able to take my turn now and again with one of the
watches as an able seaman.
It was a long weary journey across those Southern Seas. The monotony of
it, day after day, with the following wind, wave after wave apparently
threatening to overtake us, yet our poop deck ever avoiding them. And so
on until we reached Stewart Island. We made the North Passage, and on
November 4, just ninety-two days after leaving London, we entered Port
Chalmers.
Port Chalmers is the Port of Dunedin, that fine city in the South Island
of New Zealand. Dunedin was named after the city of Edinburgh, which was
once known as Dunedin. It is just chock full of Scotsmen, and it is very
much to be doubted whether a better name could have been given it by
those sons of Scotland who first made their home there. The climate of
Dunedin much resembles the climate of Edinburgh itself. Snow covers its
streets in the winter, and the great Mount Cook, clad in snow, hovers
away in the far distance. Down towards the south scenery which not even
the fiords of Norway can rival extends from the bluff towards the north.
Milford Sounds are well known for their great beauty to all those who
have travelled in those waters. I doubt whether there is any part of the
world which, within such distances, is more magnificently picturesque
than that southern corner of the South Island of New Zealand. Enough;
this is not a guide book.
We landed at Port Chalmers and proceeded to Waine's Hotel. It was kept, I
need hardly say, by a Scotsman, and it is there still. I felt that I had
started a new lease of life. I couldn't believe it possible that I had
got rid of every pain and ache and that I was as fit as fit could be. My
first concern was to cable home and tell them not only of my safe
arrival, but of the wonderful recovery that I had made, and that I
intended to at once get to work and take advantage of the letters of
introduction that I had taken with me. Two of these were to men in
Dunedin, and, curiously enough, one of them was a well-known local man,
who happened to be the Officer Commanding the Volunteer Artillery
Company. He was most kind. He was a very keen volunteer soldier, and he
informed me that the great difficulty he had to contend with was the fact
that the Government would not place at his disposal a qualified
instructor for his corps. "If you are going to stay here a little time,"
he said, "will you give a short course of instruction to my men?" I was
only too pleased, and, within two days of my arrival in Dunedin, a parade
of the corps was held in their drill-hall--which, by the by, was an
excellent one--and we made all arrangements to commence business. It was
like old times again. Who could have told me, when I was leaving London,
three months before, as I thought a cripple, that I was going to be at
work again, as fresh as ever, within three months, at the other side of
the world? One introduction led to another, till I found it difficult to
find time to take advantage of all the kind invitations that were given
me.
I had decided, however, that it was to Wellington, the seat of the New
Zealand Government, that I had to make my way. It was at Wellington that
the responsible head of the New Zealand defence and police force
resided--good old Colonel Reader. I had letters of introduction to him,
and I thought it advisable, in view of my experience in Dunedin, to
interview him as early as possible, as he might consider my experience as
a Gunner of some value to the Government. I left my friends in Dunedin
with many regrets, and full of promises to return to their hospitable
city should the authorities at Wellington deem it advisable to appoint an
instructor to their district. I was sorry to leave Dunedin. The town
possessed, and possesses, one of the nicest clubs in the southern
hemisphere--the Fernhill Club, a most comfortable residence, standing in
its own grounds, quite in the centre of the city.
On reaching Wellington I called upon Colonel Reader, and apparently my
luck was in. He told me that he was looking out for a Drill Instructor
and that he would be pleased if I could take the appointment. The
emolument seemed to me enormous. It was just four times the amount I had
been receiving as a lieutenant in the artillery. In addition, it carried
travelling expenses and other perquisites. I accepted at once, and was
ordered to take up my duties at first in the North Island, at a place
called Tauranga, not far from the scene of the fight at the Gate Pah,
during the Maori War. Anyone visiting Tauranga can still trace the site
of the old British camp and the remains of the old trenches.
Not far from the Gate Pah, in what was then called The King Country, lay
Ohinemutu, the Maori settlement, alongside which rose the celebrated
Terraces--later on, somewhere about 1885, the scene of the terrible
eruptions which completely wiped out that wonderful country, submerged
the terraces and mountains, and formed fresh lakes in what is now well
known as the Rotorua district. How soon or how late further eruptions
will take place in this district, where now a modern hotel and marble
baths have taken the place of Maori whares and mud-holes, it is not for
me to say.
While at Tauranga I became acquainted with the method then in vogue of
settling people on the land in New Zealand. A retired officer, who had
himself migrated thither, and had secured a holding not far from the
township of Tauranga, obtained from the Government a large area of land,
north of Tauranga, on the road towards Grahamstown and the Thames
Goldfield. It was reported at the time that the price he had paid the
Government was ten shillings per acre, right out. This tract of country
was completely covered with bracken, and bracken is a difficult growth to
get rid of. Proceeding to England, he induced a good many of his friends
to try their fortune on the other side of the world, offering them land
at an upset price of two pounds per acre--good land, beautiful climate,
great possibilities. It was a very tempting offer to those who knew no
better, and he succeeded in practically disposing of the land on these
terms. The greater number of these would-be pioneers were retired
officers, an ex-bishop or two, retired clergymen, and others of a similar
walk in life, who, one would naturally think, were the least qualified to
battle at their time of life with the problems of cultivating unknown
lands in far-distant colonies. The promoter, if report is correct,
chartered two sailing vessels, and into these endless furniture, pianos,
household goods, belonging to the settlers, were duly packed. Yet,
remember, all that they were to find on their arrival was bracken--no
houses, no fences, no roads, nothing but bracken. Not one of them knew
which portion of the bracken was to be his own. Part of the contract was
that, during the voyage out, the settlers were to draw lots for the
allotment of positions, the value of which they could only judge from a
map hung up in the saloon of the ship.
I rode through this settlement about one year after the arrival of the
settlers. There were a certain number of huts, intended finally to be
homesteads, in the course of being built. A few tracks formed the
so-called roads. Some of the bracken was disappearing. But the ready
money which the settlers, or some of them, had brought out with them had
been spent, and the outlook was anything but cheerful. Further, the
necessary conditions for the survey of the allotments--as required by the
Government--had not been fulfilled. Consequently the settlers were unable
to borrow any funds on their property, unless they applied to the Jews.
This is many years ago, and, though I have not been there lately, I
believe that it is now a most prosperous district. But how many of those
courageous original settlers or their families are there now?
In connexion with the eruption at Ohinemutu there was an incident which
it is worth while to record. Should it occur again, the record should act
as a sure warning to the residents at Rotorua. Situated some thirty miles
from the coast, to the eastwards of Tauranga, there is an island. It
rises in the shape of a conical hill clean out of the sea. It was then
known as Sulphur Island, or perhaps better as White Island. As a matter
of fact it was an old volcano, though never quite extinct. On landing at
this island you would have found that the conical hill was absolutely
hollow, and that on its base, in the inside, level with the sea, lay a
lake, whose waters were of the dark blue hue that only sulphur lakes can
show. The specific gravity of the water is very heavy, much the same as
that of the blue lake in the Mount Gambier district, in South Australia,
at the top edge of which Adam Lindsay Gordon made his famous jump over a
high fence. From both the inner and the outer crust of this shell
mountain continually poured sulphur deposits, practically pure sulphur.
On the outward side of the mountain this sulphur accumulated on the base,
towards the beach. It was indeed a glorious sight, on a moonlight night,
to look at this peak rising majestically from amidst the waves of
mid-ocean, white as a sugar-loaf, as the rays of the moon bathed it with
its silvery light.
Beautiful as it looked, it was yet tainted with the saddest of histories.
Though it was known that at some period or another it had been inhabited
by natives, yet no fresh water could then be found within its shores. The
only solution that could be found for the fact that it had been inhabited
was that some springs of fresh water existed between the low and high
water mark of the tide which were known to the then inhabitants, but the
knowledge of the situation of these springs had died with them. The
sulphur, however, almost in its pure state, was there in abundance, and
White Island, at the time I am speaking of, was leased by the Government
to a small syndicate, which employed a certain number of hands, and
exported the sulphur, chiefly to Tauranga. It was a fine paying game for
that merry small syndicate. The conditions, however, under which white
men were bound to labour at White Island were as sad and as deplorable as
it has ever been my lot to know. Any man who decided to fill sulphur bags
at White Island knew that he was going to his last home in this world.
The conditions of life on the island were practically hopeless. The
strong sulphur fumes ate up one's vitality. One's teeth fell out. Nothing
but woollen clothes could withstand the ravages of the fumes. Eyesight
failed. The only fresh water available was that which was landed on the
Island by the schooners which carried away the sulphur bags. The spirit
of those labourers was broken, and they were content to finish their
lives under the influence of the strong and adulterated spirits with
which those same schooners supplied them, thus helping them on their
passage to another world. Sulphur (or White) Island is doubtless still
there, and, no doubt, supplying many tons of that most useful product of
this earth under very much happier conditions.
But, to hark back to the incident of the wonderful volcano upheaval which
wrecked Ohinemutu and its terraces, its mountains and its lakes. For
about a month previous to the eruptions the captains of the coastal boats
plying along the eastern coast from Wellington to Auckland, making
Gisborne, Napier and Tauranga their ports of call, noticed that when
travelling between White Island and the main coast they passed through
shoals of dead fish floating on the surface of the sea. They were
astonished at this, but they failed to arrive at any solution of the
phenomenon. It was not till after the eruptions took place that these
reports caused the Government authorities to attempt to trace a connexion
between the shoals of dead fish on the waters and the eruption at
Ohinemutu. The result of these investigations proved--as far as it was
reported at the time--that serious volcanic disturbances had been taking
place between White Island and the mainland, unknown and unseen, but the
result of which was apparently proved by the presence on the surface of
the waters of the dead or stunned fish. All boys know that a concussion
caused in waters where there are fish, stuns them and brings them to the
surface, ready to be gathered in by the enterprising but unsportsmanlike
spirit who fires off the exploding charge. That a great explosion and
upheaval had taken place within the deep sea was proved by the experience
of the skippers in the coasting trade. I think I am making a correct
statement when I say that the connexion between White Island and the
District of Ohinemutu on the mainland, as volcanic centres, was
established.
My duties, as I have already stated, were not onerous. My chief work, as
instructor, was minimized by the small number of troopers. I had under me
some thirty or forty mounted men. The Maoris were somewhat restless
between the east and west, and they proved that restlessness by making
raids on the working parties which were then employed on road making
through the Parihaka district. Their chief delight was to raid the
road-makers' piles of broken metal and scatter it, broadcast, from their
well-constructed heaps.
Before I left Tauranga an incident occurred which appealed to me very
much as an instance of the curious ways of Providence. I was riding back
one afternoon after visiting some of the country patrols. I had filled my
pipe, but discovered that I had no matches. Presently I noticed, on the
right-hand side of the road amidst the bracken, a very humble abode. As a
matter of fact, it was just what was then known as a "lean-to," the
preliminary stage of the farmhouses that were then being built by the
settlers. These "lean-tos" were, in the first instance used for living
purposes. Later on, when the front parts of the houses were built, they
became the kitchens and domestic offices. The building was only some four
hundred yards from the road, so I turned in to get a light for my pipe. I
noticed, as I was getting near, that a man was standing on a step-ladder,
apparently doing some painting. He looked down on me from his ladder as I
approached. Then I saw that instead of painting he was engaged in tarring
the roof of the building. He was evidently an amateur tar-man. The bucket
which held the tar was tied on to the ladder below him. The roof he was
tarring was a little above him, with the result that he himself was
fairly covered with sprinklings of the tar. As he possessed a pair of
somewhat large whiskers and his head was uncovered, he presented a quaint
appearance. After greetings, I ventured to ask if he could supply me with
a few matches.
As he turned and looked down on me from his perch on the ladder, I
recognized an old friend at whose beautiful country house in the county
of Cork in Ireland I had spent many, many happy hours when I was
quartered at Carlisle Fort. I could hardly believe that he was the host
who had been so kind to all of us young officers only a few months
before.
"Surely you are not Colonel ----?" I said.
"Yes," he said, "I am."
"Well," I said, "you probably won't remember me, but I do remember you
and all the pleasure you used to give us. Are you all out here? Where are
the girls?"
I introduced myself, and he did remember me. The result was that he asked
me to stay to their evening meal, which invitation I gladly accepted.
As he landed from the ladder he laughed, and he said, "I'm afraid I'm not
much of an adept at tarring. It's only been my second attempt, and it
takes me such an awful time to get rid of the amount of the tar which I
so freely distribute over myself. But I am sure you won't mind our
primitive ways, and if this abode is not as pretentious as the old castle
in County Cork, still we can all give you a very hearty welcome."
I put up my horse in the shed which did duty as a stable. He told me that
the two sons were away with the milk cart, while the girls were hard at
work doing the evening's milking of the cows and feeding the poultry, and
would shortly finish their day's work. In the meantime, we would have a
pipe and stroll round what he called the domain. We were a cheery party
that met at that evening meal. The girls appeared, looking sweet in their
very best clothes. The old man and his sons put on evening dress. The
centre room was a living-room, drawing-room, dining-room, smoking-room,
library, all combined in one. The table on which dinner was served was
made of rough boards resting on a couple of trestles, but covered with
the best of damask tablecloths and silver ornaments. The dining-room
chairs consisted of empty packing cases. Such were the difficulties that
the early settlers had to contend with.
Some years afterwards I was paying an official call on one of Her
Majesty's ships at Adelaide, South Australia, and the commander asked me
to go into his cabin, where I saw a photograph of a sweetly pretty woman.
I recognized it at once. It was one of the three sisters with whom I had
dined some years before. I mentioned the fact, and asked him if she was a
relation of his. "Very much so," he said; "she is my wife." He then told
me all about the family, and that they had done well, and the farm had
been a great success.