DECIDE TO GO TO INDIA--VISIT MELBOURNE, ETC.
For the following six months I kept steadily to work. I was gradually
adding to my stock of sheep, and had nothing occurred to disturb me I
should doubtless have continued at work and in time have become a
veritable squatter. I was able to command constant employment in any
colonial capacity, and had been more than once offered the overseership
of a run, but the old distaste for the life of a sheep-farmer was as
strong as ever.
It was in the month of May, 1864, when I received a letter from my
brother in Bombay, saying that there were excellent openings in the
engineering line there, to which he had interest enough to help me, and
he pressed me to go to Bombay and try my luck. My brother was then
representative of a large mercantile firm at Bombay.
I think neither he nor the others at home had ever divested themselves
of the idea that I was not succeeding, and never would succeed in New
Zealand, because I had not at once made a fortune out of nothing, or
discovered gold for the picking up. Of course, they were not right. I
had, considering my youth and ignorance on going out to New Zealand,
done admirably. It was necessary to undergo a term of probation and
education for the work of a sheep-farmer or any other in the Colony, and
this I had not only accomplished, but I had been, and was, making money
and a living, and had fair prospects before me should I decide to adopt
the life of a squatter permanently. I consulted my friends and some of
them were for following my brother's advice, but something within myself
kept prompting me in the same direction, and I began to feel more and
more that I had mistaken my vocation, and that I was bound to try before
it would be too late to get into the swing of the more congenial
employment for which I was longing.
The wandering spirit, too, mastered me once more, and I wished now to
see India and all I had heard and read of that wonderful land, as I had
originally desired to see New Zealand.
I did not decide hastily. I was aware that my leaving New Zealand now
would to some extent throw me back, if at any time in the future I
decided to return, but I was still very young, not yet 22, and a year or
two would make very little difference, and I knew that if I returned to
New Zealand I could always command immediate employment. I decided at
length to see India at any rate, and I wrote to my brother to that
effect.
The disposal of my sheep, horses, and other small possessions, was soon
accomplished, and one fine morning in May 1864, I found myself at Port
Lyttelton, accompanied by a number of old chums who had come to see me
off by the steamboat to Dunedin, from whence I was to proceed by mail to
Melbourne, and from thence to Bombay by the P. and O.
I felt sad indeed to look my last (it might be for ever) on the shores
of Canterbury, where I had passed five happy years, endeared to me all
the more on account of the varied and adventurous life I had led, and
the good friends and companions I was leaving behind, and I leaned on
the bulwarks of the little steamer as we passed out of the lovely bay
and saw the shepherd's hut, high up on the cliff, where we wanderers
from the ship five years before had been entertained by the Scotch
housewife to our first New Zealand dinner, then on to where we visited
the whalers and the head to which we rowed in the Captain's gig. The
whole scene arose before me afresh; where were we all scattered to? I
longed to do it all over again, and be with the old mates; and here I
was, a lonely wanderer once more, leaving all to go away to begin a new
life in a strange land. It was not easy, but I tried hard to think I was
doing right.
By the time we passed out of the Heads it had grown dark, and my reverie
was broken by the supper bell, and Burton (a friend who was going to
Australia on a pleasure trip) telling me to rouse up, have some food,
and make myself pleasant. How carefully I followed his advice during the
next six weeks!
We reached Dunedin the following evening and had to remain there for a
few days for the departure of the Melbourne mail boat. This time Burton
and I contrived to spend very pleasantly. He was a wealthy young
squatter, and I had a good sum of money with me, in fact, I was becoming
a bit reckless; but I could not have foreseen that an accident would
retain me far longer on the voyage to India than I supposed, and I saw
little harm in enjoying myself with the money I had earned and saved.
What kind of guardian angel was in charge of me from this time I cannot
say, but he must have been an excessively pleasant and jolly one, for
under his guidance I enjoyed a most delightful time.
Dunedin had improved marvellously since I had last seen it; it was
already a town of considerable pretensions and possessed a theatre and
several good hotels. On the fourth day we left for Melbourne in the s.s.
"Alhambra," and now I believed that I had done with New Zealand for good
and all, but I was mistaken.
After three days at sea we encountered south of Tasmania a terrific gale
during which the shaft of the screw was broken, and the Captain had no
resource but to return to Dunedin under sail, an operation which
occupied seven days, to the great disgust of all on board.
At Dunedin we were again delayed for three days till another boat
started which took us to Melbourne.
The voyage was pleasant and we steamed in nearly a calm sea close along
the Tasmanian coast and through the Bass Straits, sighting land all the
way from thence. Tasmania presented quite an English appearance after
New Zealand, and we could trace the neat towns and well-wooded country
dotted with homesteads and farms.
Melbourne possesses a very fine and well protected harbour, but the
surroundings sadly lacked the native beauty of New Zealand. The
countries present very different aspects to the new-comer; while New
Zealand can boast of some of the wildest and grandest scenery in the
world, that of New South Wales is almost the reverse, being homely and
of a natural park-like appearance, which, although beautiful in a
certain sense, is monotonous after the wild contrasts of plains and
mountain, forests and rivers of New Zealand.
Melbourne proper lay some five miles from the port, which then possessed
a fine wooden pier, alongside of which and in the adjacent roadstead,
lay many fine merchant vessels and steamers awaiting their cargoes of
wool, etc. The port and city were connected by a railway, the first
constructed in Australia, and almost parallel with it wound the River
Yarrow, so named from its usually muddy or yellow colour.
We proceeded to Melbourne by rail and put up at one of the principal
hotels. Here we discovered that our accident had caused us to miss the
China mail boat which was to have conveyed us to Point de Galle, and I
would now have almost a whole month to remain at Melbourne. This news
was I fear more welcome than otherwise. I wished to see something of
Melbourne, and here was the opportunity forced upon me, so I decided to
make the very most of my time.
Melbourne, even at this period, was a considerable city, handsome and
well laid out on the most approved modern principles, with straight and
spacious streets and squares, and possessing throughout architecture
equal to that of the best modern English towns, in addition to some
really magnificent public buildings. A considerable portion of the city
stood on a gentle slope, and along many of the streets between the
roadway and the footpaths, ran continuous streams of pure spring water,
over which, when in flood, foot passengers were taken by carriage.
Along the banks of the Yarrow were lovely gardens and extensive parks,
and many a pleasant row I had under the shade of the huge pine and gum
trees. The river frequently overflowed its banks and submerged the
low-lying country between the city and the port, at which times I have
travelled by train while the rails were under water. Some of the suburbs
and watering places around Melbourne, such as St. Kilda, were
exceedingly picturesque.
A railway was just then opened from Melbourne to Ballarat, the scene of
the famous gold diggings to which Melbourne is primarily indebted for
her present magnificence and prosperity. Extensive quartz crushing by
machinery was then being carried out, and a visit to the locality was
most interesting. We made many excursions up country, and altogether
thoroughly enjoyed our time. So much so indeed that had another accident
detained me longer I would not have felt any regret.
Early in August I started by the P. and O. mail boat for Ceylon, with
mutual regrets on Burton's part and on my own that our pleasant holiday
was ended. I never met Burton again.
At King George's Sound, Northern Australia, was a small coaling station,
possessing only a score or so of houses or stores, and one hotel
so-called. On arrival we went on shore and were immediately greeted by a
number of the most wretched specimens of humanity I had yet seen. They
were diminutive in stature, perfectly naked with the exception of a
dirty rag of blanket twisted about the shoulders and waist, out of the
folds of which issued a wreath of smoke from the fire stick without
which the Australian aboriginal rarely leaves his or her wigwam. Their
hair was plastered down on the head with thick ochre paint, and they
were disgustingly filthy and altogether unpleasant to look at. They
invariably asked for "sixpence," which amount seemed to represent the
sum of their earthly happiness, and with most of them was the only word
of English they could speak.
The men all carried boomerangs, a flat curved stick which they threw for
our edification, and sixpences, very scientifically, and contrived to
dispose of a good many to the passengers. We saw with them also some
skins of that rare and handsome bird the emu, now I believe becoming
very scarce.
A most remarkable thing about King George's Sound is the utter waste and
wildness of the country, not a sign of life or cultivation. The few
natives who inhabit this wild region subsist principally on roots and
such wild fruits as are obtainable, or on birds which they can kill with
their boomerangs. They are very little, if at all, superior to the lower
animals, and I believe there is no institution of marriage or
acknowledgment of domestic relations among them.
One thing, however, there was as a set off against all the rest--namely,
the extraordinary wealth of flowers which grew thickly amongst the
thousand varieties of rare ferns all over the land. What would be held
as the most delicate hothouse plants in England here formed a brilliant
carpet in their wild luxuriance. We literally walked knee deep in
exotics.
We carried large bundles of them on board, when we left that night after
a stay of only twelve hours.
Point de Galle was reached on the twelfth day, and here the mail steamer
from Calcutta by which I was to proceed to Bombay had already arrived. A
few of us went on shore with small caps on our heads and some with
cabbage tree hats, but we speedily discovered they would not do. The
heat on shore was intense, a muggy, stifling heat, which to us
Australians was killing. We were guided to the Bazaar, and introduced to
several hotels by some five score natives, whose numbers increased as we
proceeded, and were augmented by numerous sellers of sun toppee,
pugarees, etc. We were speedily provided each with a tropical headpiece
with a long tail of white muslin therefrom which hung down the back.
After a substantial "tiffin" in a large shady room, under the swaying
punkah (the first I had seen), it was proposed by some of our sable
friends that we should visit the tea gardens, one of the lions of Galle,
and I, forgetting all about the boat, was on the point of joining the
movement, having taken a seat in the conveyance for the purpose, when my
good angel, by some means I have now forgotten, informed me that the
steamer for Bombay would start in ten minutes.
I jumped from the carriage and ran full speed with a crowd of attendant
blacks in full cry at my heels, shot into the first boat I came to and
reached the steamer as the screw commenced to turn.
In four days we arrived at Bombay, where, in due course, I entered State
Service, and where I remained for thirty-five years, but my life and
experiences there may possibly form the subject of another story.
* * * * *
Printed by J.G. HAMMOND and Co., Ltd., 32-36, Fleet Lane, London, E.C.
End of Project Gutenberg's Five Years in New Zealand, by Robert B. Booth