We embark at Hobart by steamship, for Southern New Zealand. After
following the course of the river Derwent for a distance of twelve
miles, its mouth is reached, where the ship's course is a little south
of east, the dull green of the waters on soundings rapidly changing to
the navy blue of the ocean. The prevailing winds here are from the west,
which with the Australian current and the Antarctic drift, are in our
favor, so the ship speeds cheerily on her way.
The tedium of the voyage is beguiled by watching the graceful movements
of the wandering albatross, the fateful bird of nautical romance, which
is sure to be seen in considerable numbers below the thirtieth parallel
of south latitude. The peculiarities of this sea-bird's flight are a
constant marvel, for it scarcely ever plies its wings, but literally
sails upon the wind in any desired course. We wonder what secret power
can so propel him for hundreds of rods with an upward trend at the
close. If for a single moment he lights upon the water to seize some
object of food, there is a trifling exertion evinced in rising again,
until he is a few feet above the waves, when once more he sails with or
against the wind, upon outspread, immovable wings. With no apparent
inclination or occasion for pugnacity, the albatross is yet armed with a
tremendous beak, certainly the most terrible of its kind possessed by
any of the feathered tribe. It is from six to eight inches long, and
ends in a sharp-pointed hook extremely strong and hard. It has been
humorously said that if he pleased, the albatross might breakfast at the
Cape of Good Hope and dine in New York, so wonderfully swift is he in
flight and so powerful on the wing.
At night the phosphorescence of these lonely waters lying just north of
the Antarctic Circle, between Tasmania and New Zealand, is indeed
marvellous. Liquid fire is the only term which will properly express
their flame-like appearance. If a bucketful is drawn and deposited upon
deck, while it remains still it appears dark and like any other water,
but when agitated it emits scintillations of light like the stars. A
drop of this water placed under a microscope is found to be teeming with
living and active creatures. If we suspend a muslin bag for a few
moments over the ship's side, with the mouth open, then draw it up and
permit it to drain for a few seconds, placing what remains in a glass
tumbler, we shall find the abundance of living forms which it contains
quite visible to the naked eye. No two of these minute creatures seem to
be of similar form; the variety is infinite, and their activity
incessant. Most of these animalcules, however, are so small that if it
were not for the microscope we should never know of their existence.
The voyage from Hobart to the Bluff, South New Zealand, usually consumes
four days, and it is often a very rough passage. Sailing-vessels making
this trip carry a quantity of crude oil, which in extreme cases they
employ to still the boisterous sea about them, when "God maketh the deep
to boil like a pot." It should be known that our own Benjamin Franklin
first suggested, about a century ago, the carrying of oil by vessels for
this purpose. This shrewd American philosopher was also the first to
suggest, about the same time, that ship-builders should construct the
hulls of vessels in water-tight compartments, thus affording sufficient
sustaining power to float them when by accident portions of the hull
became leaky or broken into. After the lapse of a century both of these
precautions have been adopted, and are much used.
As we sight the land, the southwest coast of New Zealand is found to be
indented with deep fjords [Pronounced _feords_.] almost precisely like
the coast of Norway from Bergen to Hammerfest; and, singular to say,
these arms of the sea, like those of the far north, are much deeper than
the neighboring ocean. The Bluff, also known as Campbelltown, is
situated in the very track of storms, being open to the entire sweep of
the Antarctic Ocean. Its shelving side, sloping towards the harbor,
forms a sort of lee, or sheltered position, which is occupied by a
pretty little fishing-village of some sixty houses, and contains a
population of less than a thousand. These people gain their living
mostly from the neighboring sea, and from such labor as is consequent
upon the occasional arrival of a steamship bound northward. We may here
take refreshment at the Golden Age Inn, which is the most southerly
house of public entertainment on the globe.
New Zealand did not become a recognized British colony until the year
1840. For three-quarters of a century after Cook's first visit, the
native tribes remained in free possession of the country. It is true
that England was mistress of these islands by right of discovery, but
she made no formal assumption of political domain until the period
already named, when it was formed into a colony subordinate to the
government of New South Wales. As early as 1815, white men of venturous
disposition began to settle in small numbers among the natives; but
often their fate was to be roasted and eaten by cannibals. Before 1820,
missionaries, no doubt influenced by truly Christian motives, came
hither and devoted their lives to this people,--in more senses than one,
as it is well known that they not infrequently met with a fate similar
to that of other settlers.
New Zealand lies as far south of the equator as Italy does north of it,
and is divided into the North and South Islands by Cook's Strait. The
South Island is also known as the Middle Island, to distinguish it more
fully from Stewart Island, which belongs to the group, and which lies to
the south of it. This last-named island is separated from Middle Island
by Foveaux Strait some fifteen or twenty miles across the water from the
Bluff. It is about fifty miles long by thirty broad, and has a mountain
range running through it, the loftiest peak of which is a trifle over
three thousand feet high. There are some fishing hamlets here, but there
are very few inhabitants. All these islands are popularly believed to
have once formed part of a great continent, which is now sunk in the
sea.
Unlike Australia, New Zealand is rarely visited by drought. The whole
eastern coast abounds in good harbors, while the rivers and streams are
ever flowing and innumerable. Though it is a mountainous country, it
differs from Switzerland in that it has no lack of extensive plains,
which seem to have been left by nature ready to the hand of the farmer,
requiring scarcely ordinary cultivation to insure large and profitable
crops of grains. This diversity of surface, as well as the fact that
these islands extend over thirteen degrees of latitude, give the country
a varied climate, but it is a remarkably temperate one, its salubrity
far surpassing that of England or any part of the United States. While
snow is never seen in the North Island except upon the highest
mountains, the plains of the South Island, as far south as Otago, are
sometimes sprinkled with it, but only to disappear almost immediately.
The rivers are generally destitute of fish, and the forests of game. It
is no sportsman's country; but vegetation runs riot, the soil being
remarkably fertile, clothing the wild lands with perpetual verdure and
vigorous freshness.
The area of the islands known as New Zealand is about one hundred
thousand square miles, being a few more than are contained in England,
Wales, and Ireland combined. The entire coast line is four thousand
miles in length. Out of the seventy million acres of land, forty million
are deemed worthy of cultivation. The soil being light and easily worked
favors the agriculturist, and New Zealand is free from all noxious
animals and venomous reptiles. It is stated that no animal larger than a
rat was found here by the discoverers. The remote situation of the
country, surrounded by the greatest extent of ocean on the globe, has
kept it in a measure unknown to the rest of the world, even in these
days of rapid communication with all parts of the earth. Wellington, the
capital, is about fifteen thousand miles more or less, from the Colonial
Office in London; in other words, New Zealand forms the nearest land to
the actual antipodes of England. The precious metals are distributed
over the land in gold-bearing quartz reefs, rich alluvial diggings, and
in the sands of its many rivers. Mines of tin and iron as well as other
minerals are supplemented by an abundant supply of the most important of
them all; namely, coal.
There is little of interest to detain us at the Bluff, so we continue
on by steamer to Dunedin, the metropolis of Otago district, and indeed,
the principal city of New Zealand, if we make the number and wealth of
its population the criterion of comparison. The cities of both Australia
and New Zealand, but especially those of the latter country, have a
habit of locating themselves among and upon a collection of hills, up
the sides of which the houses creep in a very picturesque manner.
Dunedin is no exception to this rule, rising rather abruptly from the
plain, which is the location of the wharves and business houses, to the
summit of the surrounding hills. A portion of the plain near the shore,
upon which broad streets and substantial blocks of buildings now stand,
consists of made land, redeemed at great expense from the shallow water
front of the town.
The first settlement here was made so late as 1848, by a colony nearly
every member of which came from Scotland, and from this source the city
has continued ever since to draw large numbers annually. The Scottish
brogue salutes the ear everywhere; the Scottish physiognomy is always
prominent to the eye; and indeed, there are several prevailing
indications which cause one to half believe himself in Aberdeen,
Glasgow, or Edinburgh. This is by no means unpleasant. There is a solid,
reliable appearance to everything. People are rosy-cheeked, hearty, and
good to look at. The wand of the enchanter, to speak figuratively,
touched the place in 1861, from which date it took a fresh start upon
the road of prosperity. It was caused by gold being discovered in large
quantities near at hand, and from that date the city of Dunedin has
grown in population and wealth with marvellous rapidity. Large
substantial stone edifices have sprung up on all the main thoroughfares
devoted to business purposes, banks, public offices, churches, schools,
storehouses, etc., giving an unmistakable aspect of prosperity. The
street-cars are mostly operated on the cable principle. Horses could not
draw heavily-laden cars up some of the steep streets. The sensation when
being conveyed on one of these cars up or down a steep grade of the
city, is the same as when ascending or descending some Swiss mountains,
by means of the same unseen power. The car is promptly stopped anywhere,
to land or to take on a passenger, no matter how steep the grade, by the
simple movement of a lever, and is easily started again. The powerful
stationary engine situated a mile away, by means of the chain beneath
the road-bed quietly winds the car up the declivity however heavily it
may be laden, without the least slacking of speed.
The singularly formed hills about Dunedin are not mere barren
rocks,--they have their suggestiveness, speaking of volcanic eruptions,
of wild upheavals, dating back for thousands of years. Scientists tell
us that these islands are of the earliest rock formations. The ground
upon which this city stands, like that of Auckland further north, is
composed of the fiery outflow of volcanic matter.
Dunedin has all the usual educational and philanthropic institutions
which a community of fifty thousand intelligent people demand in our
day. It is especially well supplied with primary and other schools.
Throughout New Zealand there are over eight hundred registered public
schools of the various grades. It is a source of gratification to
realize that educational interests are nowhere neglected in these
far-away colonies, where the eager pursuit of gold has been so prominent
an element in inducing immigration. New Zealand is nearly as rich in
gold deposits as is Australia, and the precious metal is obtained under
nearly the same conditions. Much gold has been found here in what are
called pockets, under boulders and large stones which lie on the sandy
beach of the west coast. This is popularly believed to have been washed
up from the sea in heavy weather, but undoubtedly it was first washed
down from the mountains and deposited along the shore. Official returns
show that New Zealand has produced over two hundred and fifty million
dollars in gold since its discovery in these islands.
When Captain Cook first landed here, he fully understood the cannibal
habits of the native race, and sought for some practical means of
discouraging and abolishing such inhuman practices. Upon his second
visit, therefore, he introduced swine and some other domestic animals,
such as goats and horned cattle, in the vain hope that they would
ultimately supply sufficient animal food for the savages, and divert
them from such wholesale roasting and eating of each other. The goats
and some other animals were soon slaughtered and consumed, but the swine
to a certain extent answered the purpose for which he designed them;
that is to say, they ran wild, multiplied remarkably, and were hunted
and eaten by the natives; but cannibalism was by no means abolished, or
even appreciably checked. Wild hogs, which have sprung from the original
animals introduced so many years ago, are still quite abundant in the
North Island.
About two hundred miles northward from Dunedin is the city of
Christchurch, settled first in 1850, and the chief seat of the Church of
England in New Zealand, having a noble cathedral. Littleton is the port
of Christchurch, situated eight miles below the city, and connected
with it by both river and railway. This metropolis contains about
thirty-five thousand people. In its museum there is a most interesting
and perfect skeleton of that great bird, the Moa,--indigenous in this
country and believed to have been extinct about two thousand years,
probably disappearing before any human beings came to these islands. The
Maori Indians (pronounced _Mow´re_), the native race of New Zealand, can
be traced back but six or seven hundred years, and only very imperfectly
during that period. They are believed to have come from the islands
lying in the North Pacific, presumably from the Sandwich or Hawaiian
group. Even the traditions of these natives fail to give us any account
of this gigantic bird while it was living, but its bones are found in
various sections of the country, principally in caves. What is left of
the Moa to-day is quite sufficient to form the greatest ornithological
wonder in the world. The head of this reconstructed skeleton in the
museum of Christchurch stands sixteen feet from the ground, and its
various proportions are all of a character to harmonize with its
remarkable height. This skeleton shows the marvellous bird to have been,
when standing upright, five feet taller than the average full-grown
giraffe. It belonged to the giants who dwelt upon the earth perhaps
twenty thousand years ago, in the period of the mammoth and the dodo.
A couple of hundred miles further north will bring us to Wellington, the
national capital. After a narrow entrance is passed, the harbor opens
into a magnificent sheet of water, in which the largest ships may ride
in safety and discharge their cargoes at wharves built close to the busy
centre of the town. Here, as in Dunedin, a portion of land has been
reclaimed from the sea for business purposes. The city has its asylums,
a college, hospital, botanical garden, Roman Catholic cathedral, and a
colonial museum,--the latter being of more than ordinary interest in the
excellence and completeness of its several departments. A structure
which is exhibited here and called the Maori House, built by the natives
as a specimen of their domestic architecture, is particularly
interesting, being also full of aboriginal curiosities, such as domestic
utensils, weapons, and carvings. The house is of ordinary village size,
and is ornamented on many of its posts by carved figures, representing
native heroes and gods. The province of Wellington stretches northward a
hundred and fifty miles and contains seven million acres of land,
diversified by two mountain ranges. The population of the capital is a
little over twenty thousand. The town impresses one as being a community
of shops, and it is a subject of surprise how they can all obtain a
living.
A considerable number of natives, mostly in European costume, are seen
in the streets of Wellington, loitering about the corners and gazing
curiously into shop windows, the girls and women having heavy shocks of
unkempt hair shading their great black eyes, high cheek-bones, and
disfigured mouths and chins, which last are tattooed in blue dye of some
sort. The males tattoo the whole face elaborately, but the women
disfigure themselves thus only about the mouth and chin. It is most
amusing to see them meet one another and rub noses, which is the Maori
mode of salutation. This race has some very peculiar habits: they never
eat salt; they have no fixed industry, and no idea of time or its
divisions into hours and months; they are, like our North American
Indians, constitutionally lazy, are intensely selfish, and seem to care
nothing for their dead; they have a quick sense of insult, but cannot as
a rule be called pugnacious; they excite themselves to fight by
indulging in strange war-dances and by singing songs full of
braggadocio; and, after having been thus wrought up to a state of
frenzy, they are perfectly reckless as to personal hazard. The Maori is
not, however, a treacherous enemy; he gives honorable notice of his
hostile intent, warring only in an open manner, thus exhibiting a degree
of chivalry unknown to our American Indians. Money with the Maori is
considered only as representing so much rum and tobacco. Alcohol is his
criterion of value; bread and meat are quite secondary.
The name "Maori" is that which these aborigines gave themselves. If
there were any human beings upon these islands when the Maoris first
arrived, they doubtless fell a prey to the cannibalistic habits of the
newcomers, whose insatiable appetite for human flesh was irrepressible.
When discovered by Cook, they were the lowest of savage races; they knew
scarcely anything of the mechanic arts, their skill being limited to the
scooping out of a boat from the trunk of a tree, and the fabrication of
fishing-nets from the coarse fibre of the wild flax. They also made
spears, shields, and clubs. They had no beasts of burden, and so their
women were made to supply the place. Their agriculture was confined to
the raising of sweet potatoes and the taro root, while their more
substantial food consisted of fish, rats, wild fowl, and human flesh.
Captain Cook estimated, when he first visited them, that the Maoris had
passed the period of their best days. He thought that in the century
previous to his coming hither they had eaten about one-fourth of their
number. The race is now estimated at only thirty-six or thirty-eight
thousand, though it is certain that it embraced a hundred thousand about
a century ago. The decrease in ten years is apparent to observant
persons, a fact not clearly accounted for by any excess of living on
their part, though their daily habits are not very commendable,
especially as to drink. They are all most inveterate smokers,--men,
women, and children; you can give a Maori maiden nothing more acceptable
to her taste and appreciation than a pipe and a plug of smoking-tobacco.
As a people, they have manifestly filled the purpose for which
Providence placed them upon these islands of the South Sea; and now,
like the Moa, they must pass off the scene and give way to another race.
So it seems to be with the Red Man of America, and so it was with the
now totally extinct natives of Tasmania.
When this capital of Wellington was first settled, the newcomers could
build their houses only of wood, the frequency of earthquakes warning
them against raising edifices of heavy material or making their
dwellings over one or two stories in height. But earthquakes, though now
occasionally experienced, are by no means so frequent as formerly.
Tremulousness of the earth and rumblings as of distant thunder are heard
now and again, in the hills that stretch inland towards the mountains,
which is quite sufficient to keep the fact in mind that this is a
volcanic region. Earthquake shocks are frequent all over the islands,
and it is believed that New Zealand was rent midway, where Cook's Strait
divides the North from the South Island, by volcanic explosion. There is
known to be an extinct volcano at the bottom of the strait, in front of
the entrance to the harbor of Wellington, over which the water is never
absolutely calm and where it sometimes boils like a caldron.