OUTLYING ISLANDS
The New Zealand mainland--if the word may be used for anything so
slender and fragmentary--is long as well as slight. Nearly eleven
hundred miles divide the south end of Stewart Island from Cape Maria
Van Diemen. If the outposts of the main are counted in, then the
Dominion becomes a much larger, though more watery, expanse. Its
length is about doubled, and the contrast between the sunny Kermadecs
and the storm-beaten Aucklands becomes one of those things in which
Science delights. It is a far cry from the trepang and tropic birds
(the salmon-pink bo’suns) of the northern rocks to the sea-lions that
yawn at the casual visitor to Disappointment Island. The Kermadecs--to
employ an overworked expression--bask in the smiles of perpetual
summer. The Three Kings, lying thirty-eight miles beyond the tip of
the North Island, might be Portuguese isles, and the Chathams--as far
as climate goes--bits of France. But the peaty groups of the shivering
South lie right across the pathway of the Antarctic gales. Even on
their quieter days the grey sky that overhangs them looks down on
a sea that is a welter of cold indigo laced with white. Relentless
erosion by ocean rollers from the south-west has worn away their
western and south-western shores into steep cliffs, cut by sharp-edged
fissures and pitted by deep caves. For their vegetation you must
seek their eastern slopes and valleys, or the shores of land-locked
harbours. On some of the smaller of them, parakeets and other
land-birds learn to fly little and fly low, lest they should be blown
out to sea. The wild ducks of the Aucklands are flightless, and in the
same group are found flies without wings. In the Snares the mutton-bird
tree lies down on its stomach to escape the buffeting blasts, clutching
the treacherous peat with fresh rootlets as it grows or crawls along.
The western front of the Aucklands shows a wall of dark basalt, thirty
miles long, and from four hundred to twelve hundred feet high. No beach
skirts it; no trees soften it; only one inlet breaks it. Innumerable
jets and little cascades stream from its sharp upper edge, but--so say
eye-witnesses--none appear to reach the sea: the pitiless gusts seize
the water, scatter it into spray-smoke and blow it into air. The wind
keeps the waterfalls from falling, and their vapour, driven upward, has
been mistaken for smoke from the fires of castaway seamen.
There is, however, one race to whom even the smallest and wildest
of our islets are a source of unceasing interest and ever-fresh, if
malodorous, pleasure. Zoologists know them for the procreant cradles of
Antarctic sea-fowl. And that, from the Kermadecs to the Bounties and
the Antipodes, they assuredly are. On Raoul--the largest Kermadec--you
may walk among thousands of mutton-birds and kick them off their nests.
On the West King, gannets and mackerel gulls cover acre after acre so
thickly that you cannot help breaking eggs as you tread, or stumbling
against mother-gannets, sharp in the beak. On dismal Antipodes Island,
the dreary green of grass and sedge is picked out with big white birds
like white rosettes. In the Aucklands, the wandering albatross is found
in myriads, and may be studied as it sits guarding its solitary egg
on the rough nest from which only brute force will move it. On the
spongy Snares, penguins have their rookeries; mutton-birds swarm, not
in thousands, but millions; sea-hawks prey on the young of other birds,
and will fly fiercely at man, the strange intruder. Earth, air, and
sea, all are possessed by birds of unimaginable number and intolerable
smell. Penguins describe curves in the air as they dive neatly from the
rocks. Mutton-birds burrow in the ground, whence their odd noises mount
up strangely. Their subterranean clamour mingles with the deafening
discords of the rookeries above ground. On large patches the vegetation
is worn away and the surface defiled. All the water is fouled. The
odour, like the offence of Hamlet’s uncle, “is rank: it smells to
Heaven.” Mr. Justice Chapman found it strong a mile out to sea. In
that, however, the Snares must cede the palm to the Bounties; dreadful
and barren rocks on which a few insects--a cricket notably--alone
find room to exist among the sea-birds. In violent tempests the foam
is said to search every corner of the Bounties, cleansing them for the
nonce from their ordure. But the purity, such as it is, is short lived.
All who have smelt them are satisfied to hope that surf and sea-birds
may ever retain possession there. Indeed, as much may be said for the
Snares. Science may sometimes perambulate them, just as Science--with
a handkerchief to her nose--may occasionally pick her steps about the
Bounties; but none save _savants_ and sea-lions are likely to claim any
interest in these noisome castles of the sea-fowl.
Some of our larger outposts in the ocean are not repulsive by any
means. If human society were of no account, the Kermadecs would be
pleasant enough. One or two of them seem much more like Robinson
Crusoe’s fertile island, as we read of it in Defoe’s pages, than
is Juan Fernandez. Even the wild goats are not lacking. Flowering
trees grow on well-wooded and lofty Raoul; Meyer Island has a useful
boat-harbour; good fish abound in the warm and pellucid sea. To
complete the geniality, the largest island--some seven or eight
thousand acres in size--has a hot bathing-pool. One heroic family defy
solitude there, cultivate the fertile soil, and grow coffee, bananas,
figs, vines, olives, melons, peaches, lemons, citrons, and, it would
seem, anything from grenadilloes to potatoes. Twenty years ago, or
thereabout, our Government tempted a handful of settlers to try life
there. A volcanic disturbance scared them away, however, and the one
family has since plodded on alone. Stories are told of the life
its members live, of their skill in swimming and diving, and their
struggles with armies of rats and other troubles. Once when the steamer
that visits them yearly was late, its captain found the mother of the
family reduced to her last nib--with which she nevertheless had kept
up her diary. On board the steamer was the lady’s eldest daughter, a
married woman living in New Zealand. She was making a rough voyage of
a thousand miles to see her mother--for two days. Sooner or later--if
talk means anything--Auckland enterprise will set up a fish-curing
station on Meyer Island. That, I suppose, will be an answer to the
doubts which beset the minds of the Lords of the British Admiralty
when this group, with its Breton name, was annexed to New Zealand. The
colony asked for it, and the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty were
duly consulted. Their secretary wrote a laconic reply to the Colonial
Office observing that if New Zealand wanted the Kermadecs my Lords saw
“no particular reason” why “that colony” should not have “these islands
or islets”; but of what possible use they could be to New Zealand my
Lords couldn’t imagine.
The Three Kings mark a point in our history. It was on the 5th of
January that Tasman discovered them. So he named them after the three
wise kings of the East--Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar. The Great
King, the largest of them, is not very great, for it contains, perhaps,
six or seven hundred acres. It is cliff-bound, but a landing may
usually be made on one side or the other, for its shape resembles the
device of the Isle of Man. Into one of its coves a cascade comes down,
tumbling two hundred feet from a green and well-timbered valley above.
Tasman saw the cascade; and as the _Heemskirk_ and her cockle-shell of
a consort were short of fresh water, he sent “Francis Jacobsz in our
shallop, and Mr. Gillimans, the supercargo,” with casks to be filled.
When, however, the two boats neared the rocks, the men found thereon
fierce-looking, well-armed natives, who shouted to them in hoarse
voices. Moreover, the surf ran too high for an easy landing. So the
Dutchmen turned from the white cascade, and pulled back to Tasman,
who took them aboard again, and sailed away, to discover the Friendly
Islands. Thus it came about that though he discovered our country, and
spent many days on our coasts, neither he nor any of his men ever set
foot on shore there. Did Francis Jacobsz, one wonders, really think the
surf at Great King so dangerous? Or was it that good Mr. Gillimans,
supercargo and man of business, disliked the uncomfortable-looking
spears and _patu-patu_ in the hands of the Rarewa men? Tasman, at any
rate, came to no harm at the Three Kings, which is more than can be
said of all shipmasters; for they are beset with tusky reefs and strong
currents. A noted wreck there was that of the steamship _Elingamite_,
which went down six years ago, not far from the edge of the deep ocean
chasm where the submarine foundations of New Zealand seem to end
suddenly in a deep cleft of ocean.
Thanks to a thick white fog, she ran on a reef in daylight on a quiet
Sunday morning. She was carrying fifty-eight of a crew and about twice
as many passengers. There was but a moderate sea, and, as those on
board kept cool, four boats and two rafts were launched. Though one
boat was capsized, and though waves washed several persons off the
wreck, nearly every one swam to a boat or was picked up. One woman,
however, was picked up dead. No great loss or sufferings need have
followed but for the fog. As it was, the shipwrecked people were
caught by currents, and had to row or drift about blindly. Their
fates were various. The largest boat, with fifty-two souls, was
luckiest: it reached Hohoura on the mainland after but twenty-five
hours of wretchedness. There the Maori--like the barbarous people of
Melita--showed them no small kindness. It is recorded that one native
hurried down to the beach with a large loaf, which was quickly divided
into fifty-two morsels. Others came with horses, and the castaways,
helped up to the _kainga_, had hot tea and food served out to them.
Whale-boats then put out and intercepted a passing steamer, which at
once made for the Three Kings. There, on Tuesday, eighty-nine more of
the shipwrecked were discovered and rescued. One party of these had
come within a hundred and fifty yards of an islet, only to be swept
away by a current against which they struggled vainly. Finally, they
made Great King, and supported life on raw shell-fish till, on the
third day after the wreck, the sun, coming out, enabled them (with the
aid of their watch-glasses) to dry the six matches which they had
with them. Five of these failed to ignite; the sixth gave them fire,
and, with fire, hope and comparative comfort. They even gave chase to
the wild goats of the island, but, needless to say, neither caught nor
killed any.
One of the rafts, unhappily, failed to make land at all. A strong
current carried it away to sea, and in four days it drifted sixty-two
miles. Fifteen men and one woman were on it, without food or water,
miserably clothed, and drenched incessantly by the wash or spray. The
woman gave up part of her clothing to half-naked men, dying herself
on the third day. Four others succumbed through exhaustion; two threw
themselves into the sea in delirium. Three steamers were out searching
for the unfortunates. It was the _Penguin_, a King’s ship, which found
them, as the fifth day of their sufferings was beginning, and when
but one man could stand upright. The captain of the man-of-war had
carefully gauged the strength of the current, and followed the raft far
out to the north-east.
Gold and silver, to the value of £17,000, went down with the
_Elingamite_. Treasure-seekers have repeatedly tried to fish it up, but
in vain.
* * * * *
[Illustration: WEAVING THE KAITAKA]
Five hundred miles to the east of Banks’ Peninsula lie the pleasant
group called the Chatham Islands. They owe their auspicious name
to their luck in being discovered in 1790 by the Government ship
_Chatham_. Otherwise they might have been named after Lord Auckland,
or Mr. Robert Campbell, or Stewart the sealer, as have others of our
islands. They are fabled of old to have been, like Delos, floating
isles, borne hither and thither by sea and wind. The Apollo who brought
them to anchor was the demi-god Kahu. The myth, perhaps, had its
origin in the powerful currents which are still a cause of anxiety to
shipmasters navigating the seas round their shores. They are fertile
spots, neither flat nor lofty, but altogether habitable. The soft air
is full of sunshine, tempered by the ocean haze, and in it groves of
karaka-trees, with their large polished leaves and gleaming fruit,
flourish as they flourish nowhere else. Neither too hot nor cold,
neither large nor impossibly small--they are about two and a half
times the size of the Isle of Wight,--the Chathams, one would think,
should have nothing in their story but pleasantness and peace. And,
as far as we know, the lot of their old inhabitants, the Moriori,
was for centuries marked neither by bloodshed nor dire disaster. The
Moriori were Polynesians akin to, yet distinct from, the Maori. Perhaps
they were the last separate remnant of some earlier immigrants to New
Zealand; or it is possible that their canoes brought them from the
South Seas to the Chathams direct; at any rate they found the little
land to their liking, and living there undisturbed, increased till,
a hundred years ago, they mustered some two thousand souls. Unlike
the Maori, they were not skilled gardeners; but they knew how to cook
fern-root, and how to render the poisonous karaka berries innocuous.
Their rocks and reefs were nesting-places for albatrosses and
mutton-birds; so they had fowl and eggs in plenty. A large and
very deep lagoon on their main island--said to be the crater of a
volcano--swarmed with eels.
They were clever fishermen, and would put to sea on extraordinary
rafts formed of flax sticks buoyed up by the bladders of the giant
kelp. Their beaches were well furnished with shell-fish. Finally, the
fur seal haunted their shores in numbers, and supplied them with the
warmest of clothing. Indeed, though they could weave mantles of flax,
and dye them more artistically than the Maori, they gradually lost
the art: their sealskin mantles were enough for them. As the life of
savages goes, theirs seems to have been, until eighty years ago, as
happy as it was peaceful and absolutely harmless. For the Moriori
did not fight among themselves, and having, so far as they knew, no
enemies, knew not the meaning of war. They were rather expert at making
simple tools of stone and wood, but had no weapons, or any use therefor.
Upon these altogether inoffensive and unprovocative islanders came a
series of misfortunes which in a couple of decades wiped out most of
the little race, broke its spirit, and doomed it to extinction. What
had they done to deserve this--the fate of the Tasmanians? They were
not unteachable and repulsive like the Tasmanians. Thomas Potts, a
trained observer, has minutely described one of them, a survivor of
their calamitous days. He saw in the Moriori a man “robust in figure,
tall of stature, not darker in colour perhaps than many a Maori, but
of a dull, dusky hue, rather than of the rich brown” so common in the
Maori. Prominent brows, almond eyes, and a curved, somewhat fleshy nose
gave the face a Jewish cast. The eyes seemed quietly watchful--the eyes
of a patient animal “not yet attacked, but preparing or prepared for
defence.” Otherwise the man’s demeanour was quiet and stolid. Bishop
Selwyn, too, who visited the Chathams in 1848, bears witness to the
courteous and attractive bearing of the Moriori. They were not drunken,
irreclaimably vicious, or especially slothful. They were simply
ignorant, innocent, and kindly, and so unfitted for wicked times and a
reign of cruelty.
White sealers and whalers coming in friendly guise began their
destruction, exterminating their seals, scaring away their sea-fowl,
infecting them with loathsome diseases. Worse was to come. In the
sealing schooners casual Maori seamen visited the Chathams, and saw in
them a nook as pleasant and defenceless as the city of Laish. One of
these wanderers on his return home painted a picture of the group to an
audience of the Ngatiawa tribe in words which Mr. Shand thus renders:--
“There is an island out in the ocean not far from here to the
eastward. It is full of birds--both land and sea-birds--of all kinds,
some living in the peaty soil, with albatross in plenty on the outlying
islands. There is abundance of sea and shell-fish; the lakes swarm
with eels; and it is a land of the karaka. The inhabitants are very
numerous, but they do not know how to fight, and have no weapons.”
[Illustration: “TE HONGI”]
His hearers saw a vision of a Maori El Dorado! But how was it to be
reached? In canoes they could not venture so far, nor did they know the
way. Doubtless, however, they remembered how Stewart of the _Elisabeth_
had carried Rauparaha and his warriors to Akaroa in the hold of his
brig a few years before. Another brig, the _Rodney_, was in Cook’s
Strait now, seeking a cargo of scraped flax. Her captain, Harewood, was
not such a villain as Stewart; but if he could not be bribed he could
be terrified--so thought the Ngatiawa. In Port Nicholson (Wellington
harbour) lies a little islet with a patch of trees on it, like a tuft
of hair on a shaven scalp. Nowadays it is used as a quarantine place
for dogs and other doubtful immigrants. Thither the Ngatiawa decoyed
Harewood and a boat’s crew, and then seizing the men, cajoled or
frightened the skipper into promising to carry them across the sea
to their prey. Whether Harewood made much ado about transporting the
filibustering cannibals to the Chathams will probably never be known.
He seems to have had some scruples, but they were soon overcome, either
by fear or greed. Once the bargain was struck he performed his part
of it without flinching. The work of transport was no light task. No
less than nine hundred of the Maori of Cook’s Strait had resolved
to take part in the enterprise, so much had Rauparaha’s freebooting
exploits in the south inflamed and unsettled his tribe. To carry this
invading horde to the scene of their enterprise the _Rodney_ had to
make two trips. On the first of them the Maori were packed in the
hold like the negroes on a slaver, and when water ran short suffered
miseries of thirst. Had the Moriori known anything of war they might
easily have repelled their enemies. As it was, the success of the
invasion was prompt and complete. Without losing a man the Maori soon
took possession of the Chathams and their inhabitants. The land was
parcelled out among the new-comers, and the Moriori and their women
tasted the bitterness of enslavement by insolent and brutal savages.
They seem to have done all that submissiveness could do to propitiate
their swaggering lords. But no submissiveness could save them from
the cruelty of barbarians drunk with easy success. Misunderstandings
between master and slave would be settled with a blow from a tomahawk.
On at least two occasions there were massacres, the results either of
passion or panic. In one of these fifty Moriori were killed; in the
other, perhaps three times that number of all ages and sexes. On the
second occasion the dead were laid out in a line on the sea-beach,
parents and children together, so that the bodies touched each other.
The dead were of course eaten; it is said that as many as fifty were
baked in one oven. I have read, moreover, that the Maori coolly kept
a number of their miserable slaves penned up, feeding them well, and
killed them from time to time like sheep when butcher’s meat was
wanted. This last story is, I should think, doubtful, for as the whole
island was but one large slave-pen, there could be no object in
keeping victims shut up in a yard. The same story has been told of
Rauparaha’s treatment of the islanders of Kapiti. But Kapiti is but
a few miles from the main shore, and one of his destined victims, a
woman, is said to have swum across the strait with her baby on her
back. The unhappy Moriori had nowhere to flee to, unless they were to
throw themselves into the sea. The white traders and sealers on the
coast were virtually in league with their oppressors. The only escape
was death, and that way they were not slow to take. Chroniclers differ
as to the precise disease which played havoc with them, but I should
imagine that the pestilence which walked among them in the noonday was
Despair. At any rate their number, which had been 2000 in 1836, was
found to be 212 in 1855. The bulk of the race had then found peace in
the grave. It is a relief to know that the sufferings of the survivors
had by that time come to an end. Long before 1855 the British flag had
been hoisted on the Chathams and slavery abolished. After a while the
New Zealand Government insisted upon a certain amount of land being
given back to the Moriori. It was a small estate, but it was something.
The white man, now lord of all, made no distinction between the two
brown races, and in process of time the Maori, themselves reduced to
a remnant, learned to treat the Moriori as equals. These better days,
however, came too late. The Moriori recognised this. For in 1855,
seeing that their race was doomed, they met together and solemnly
agreed that the chronicles of their people should be arranged and
written down, so that when the last was dead, their name and story
should not be forgotten. The conquering Maori themselves did not fare
so much better. They stood the test of their easy success as badly as
did Pizarro’s filibusters in Peru. They quarrelled with their friends,
the white traders and sealers, and suffered in an unprovoked onslaught
by the crew of a certain French ship, the _Jean Bart_. Then two of
the conquering clans fell out and fought with each other. In the end
a number of them returned to New Zealand, and the remainder failed to
multiply or keep up their strength in the Chathams. In the present day
Moriori and Maori together--for their blood has mingled--do not number
two hundred souls.
[Illustration: WAHINE’S CANOE RACE ON THE WAIKATO]
The affair of the _Jean Bart_ is a curious story. The vessel, a
French whaler, anchored off the Chathams in 1839. Eager to trade, the
Maori clambered on board in numbers. They began chaffering, and also
quarrelling with one another, in a fashion that alarmed the captain.
He gave wine to some of his dangerous visitors, and tried to persuade
them to go ashore again. Many did so, but several score were still in
the ship when she slipped her cable and stood out to sea. Then the
Frenchmen, armed with guns and lances, attacked the Maori, who were
without weapons, and cleared the decks of them. The fight, however,
did not end there. A number of the Ngatiawa were below, whither the
whites did not venture to follow them. They presently made their way
into a storeroom, found muskets there, and opened fire on the crew. Two
of the Frenchmen fell, and the remainder in panic launched three
boats and left the ship. By this time the _Jean Bart_ was out of sight
of land, but the Maori managed to sail back. She went ashore, and was
looted and burnt. About forty natives had been killed in the strange
bungling and causeless slaughter. The whalers and their boats were
heard of no more. It is thought that they were lost in the endeavour to
make New Zealand.[6]
[6] In the _Journal of the Polynesian Society_, vol. i., Mr. A. Shand
summarises and compares the various versions of this odd business.
We have seen how the Maori began their invasion of the Chathams by
the seizure of the _Rodney_ at Port Nicholson. It is curious that the
best-known incident of the subsequent history of the group was almost
the exact converse of this--I mean the seizure at the Chathams of the
schooner _Rifleman_ in July 1868. In this case, too, the aggressors
were Maori, though they did not belong to the Chathams. They were
prisoners of war or suspected natives deported thither from the North
Island, and kept there under loose supervision by a weak guard. Their
leader, Te Kooti, had never borne arms against us, and had been
imprisoned and exiled on suspicion merely. A born leader of men, he
contrived the capture of the _Rifleman_ very cleverly, and sailed her
back to the North Island successfully, taking with him one hundred and
sixty-three men and one hundred and thirty-five women and children. The
schooner was carrying a respectable cargo of ammunition, accoutrements,
food, and tobacco; but the fugitives could muster between them only
about thirty rifles and guns. Yet with this scanty supply of weapons
Te Kooti managed to kindle a flame in the Poverty Bay district that
took years to extinguish. Finally, after massacring many settlers, and
winning or losing a series of fights with our militia and their native
allies, his forces were scattered, and he was hunted away with a few
followers into the country of the Maori king. There he was allowed to
settle undisturbed. He lived long enough to be forgiven, to have his
hand shaken by our Native Minister, and to have a house with a bit of
land given to him by the Government. He was not a chivalrous opponent.
A savage, he made war in savage fashion. But he was a capable person;
and I cannot resist the conclusion that in being banished to the
Chathams and kept there without trial, he was given reason to think
himself most unjustly used.
[Illustration: NATIVE GATHERING]
The only trouble given by the natives at the Chathams in later days
took the form of a little comedy. The Maori there own a good deal
of live-stock, including some thousands of sheep and a number of
unpleasant and objectionable dogs. The Maori _kuri_, an unattractive
mongrel at the best, is never popular with white settlers; but in the
year 1890 the _kuri_ of the Chathams became a distinct nuisance. A
dog-tax was levied on the owners, but this failed either to make them
reduce the number of their dogs or restrain them from worrying the
flocks of the white settlers. If I remember rightly, the Maori simply
declined to pay the dog-tax. When they were prosecuted and fined, they
refused to pay the fines. The Government of the day, with more
vigour than humour, despatched a steamer to the Chathams, arrested
some forty of the recalcitrants, brought them to the South Island, and
lodged them in Lyttelton Gaol. The Maori, who have a keen sense of
the ridiculous, offered no resistance whatever. I suspect that they
did not greatly dislike the trip; it enabled them to see the world.
Their notion of hard labour and prison discipline was to eat well, to
smoke tobacco, and to bask in the sunshine of the prison yard. It was
impossible to treat them harshly. After a while they were sent home,
where their adventure formed food for conversation in many and many
a nocturnal _korero_. In the meantime their dogs lived and continued
to chase sheep. At this stage the writer of these pages joined the
New Zealand Government, and the unhappy white flock-owners laid their
troubles before him. At first the little knot did not seem, to an
inexperienced Minister, quite easy to untie. After some cogitation,
however, a way was found of ending the comedy of errors. What that was
is another story. Since then, no more terrible incident has disturbed
the Chathams than the grounding of an Antarctic iceberg on their
coast--a somewhat startling apparition in latitude 44° south.
Otherwise the Chatham islanders have gone on for the last forty years
living quietly in the soft sea-air of their little Arcadia, without
roads and without progress. They grow wool and export it; for the
rest, they exist. A small steamer visits them half-a-dozen times a
year, and brings news, groceries, and clothes, also the correct
time. Great is the tribulation when her coming is delayed. A friend
of mine who witnessed a belated arrival tells me that the boat found
a famine raging. The necessaries lacking, however, were not food, but
tobacco and hairpins. The 60,000 sheep depastured on the islands have
played havoc with some of the native vegetation, and have brought
down retribution in the shape of moving drifts of blown sea-sand,
whereby many acres of good pasture have been overwhelmed. However,
that wonderful binding grass, the marram, has been used to stop the
sand, and is said to have stayed the scourge. Much native “bush” is
still left, and shows the curious spectacle of a forest where trees
spread luxuriantly but do not grow to much more than twenty feet in
height. That, says Professor Dendy, is due to the sea-winds--not cold,
but laden with salt. In this woodland you may see a veronica which
has become a tree, a kind of sandalwood, and a palm peculiar to the
islands. That beautiful flower, the Chatham Island lily--which, by the
way, is not a lily,--blooms in many a New Zealand garden.
* * * * *
The Auckland Isles lie some three hundred miles south of our mainland.
They are nearly four times the size of St. Helena, where, as we know,
several thousand people have in the past managed to live, chiefly
on beef and a British garrison. No one, however, now lives in the
Aucklands. New Zealanders speak of their climate in much the same
strain as Frenchmen use when talking of November fogs in London. There
are, however, worse climates in several parts of the United Kingdom.
It does not always rain there; there are many spots where you are
sheltered from the wind. It is not so cold but that tree-ferns will
grow--the group is their southern limit. The leaning or bowed habits
of the forest are due as much, perhaps, to the peaty soil as to the
sou’westers. Vegetables flourish; goats, pigs, and cattle thrive.
So far are the valleys and hill-sides from being barren that their
plant-life is a joy to the New Zealand botanists, who pray for nothing
so much as that settlement may hold its hand and not molest this floral
paradise. Pleurophyllums, celmisias, gentians, veronicas, grass-trees,
spread beside the sea-gulfs as though in sub-alpine meadows. The leaves
are luxuriant, the flowers richer in colour than on our main islands.
The jungle of crouching rata tinges the winding shores with its summer
scarlet. Dense as are the wind-beaten groves, the scrub that covers the
higher slopes is still more closely woven. The forest you may creep
through; the scrub is virtually impenetrable. A friend of mine, anxious
to descend a steep slope covered with it, did so by lying down and
rolling on the matted surface. He likened it to a wire-mattress--with a
broken wire sticking up here and there.
In addition to their botanical fame, the Aucklands have a sinister
renown among seafaring men. Nature has provided the group with nearly a
dozen good harbours. Two among these, Port Ross and Carnley Harbour,
have found champions enthusiastic enough to style them the finest
seaports in the world. Yet, despite this abundance of shelter, the
isles are infamous as the scene of shipwrecks. They are in the track
of Australian ships making for Cape Horn by passing to the south of
New Zealand. In trying to give a wide berth to the Snares, captains
sometimes go perilously near the Aucklands. To go no further back,
eight wrecks upon them have been recorded during the last forty-five
years; while earlier, in 1845, there are said to have been three in one
year. The excellent harbours, unluckily, open towards the east; the
ships running before the westerly winds are dashed against the terrible
walls of rock which make the windward face of the group. The survivors
find themselves on desolate and inclement shores hundreds of miles from
humanity. Many are the tales of their sufferings. Even now, though the
Government of New Zealand keeps up two well-stocked depôts of food and
clothing there, and despatches a steamer to search for castaways once
or twice a year, we still read of catastrophes followed by prolonged
misery. Five men from a crew of the _Grafton_, lost in 1864, spent no
less than eighteen months on the islands. At length they patched up the
ship’s pinnace sufficiently to carry three of them to Stewart’s Island,
where they crept into Port Adventure in the last stage of exhaustion.
The two comrades they had left behind were at once sent for and brought
away. Less lucky were four sailors who, after the wreck of the _General
Grant_, two years later, tried to repeat the feat of a boat-voyage
to Stewart Island. They were lost on the way. Indeed, of eighty-three
poor souls cast away with the _General Grant_, only ten were ultimately
rescued, after spending a forlorn six months on the isles. The case of
the _General Grant_ was especially noteworthy. She did not run blindly
against the cliffs in a tempest, but spent hours tacking on and off
the western coast in ordinary weather. Finally, she found her way into
a cave, where she went down with most of those on board her. At least
£30,000 in gold went with her, and in the effort to find the wreck and
recover the money, the cutter _Daphne_ was afterwards cast away, with
the loss of six lives more.
Cruel indeed was the ill-luck of the crew of the four-masted barque
_Dundonald_ which struck on the Aucklands in March 1907. They saw
a cliff looming out just over their bows shortly after midnight.
An attempt to wear the ship merely ended in her being hurled stern
foremost into a kind of tunnel. The bow sank, and huge seas washed
overboard the captain, his son, and nine of the crew. Sixteen took
refuge in the tops, and one of them, a Russian, crept from a yard-arm
on to a ledge of the cliff. After daylight a rope was flung to him
and doubled, and along this bridge--sixty feet in air above the
surges--fifteen men contrived to crawl. On reaching the summit of
the cliff they discovered the full extent of their bad fortune. They
had been cast away, not on the larger Aucklands, but on the peaked
rock ominously named Disappointment Island. It contains but four or
five square miles, and is five miles away from the next of the group.
Heart-stricken at the discovery, the chief mate lay down and died in
a few days. The second mate’s health also gave way. The carpenter and
sail-maker, whose skill would have been worth so much to the castaways,
had been drowned with the captain. A few damp matches and some canvas
and rope were almost all that was saved from the ship before she
disappeared in deep water.
For seven months the survivors managed to live on Disappointment
Island, showing both pluck and ingenuity. For a day or two they had to
eat raw sea-birds. Then, when their matches had dried, they managed
to kindle a fire of peat--a fire which they did not allow to expire
for seven months. They learned a better way of cooking sea-fowl than
by roasting them. At the coming of winter weather they dug holes in
the peat, and building over these roofs of sods and tussock-grass,
lay warm and dry thereunder. These shelters, which have been likened
to Kaffir kraals, appear to have been modelled on Russian pig-sties.
The seamen found a plant with large creeping stems, full of starch,
and edible--by desperate men. When the seals came to the islands they
mistook them for sea-serpents, but presently finding out their mistake,
they lowered hunters armed with clubs to the foot of the cliffs, and
learned, after many experiments, that the right place to hit a seal
is above the nose. They found penguins tough eating, and seal’s flesh
something to be reserved for dire extremity. Their regular ration of
sea-birds, they said, was three molly-hawks a day for each man. As to
that, one can only say, with Dominie Sampson, “Prodigious!” Searching
their islet they lighted upon a crack in the ring of cliff where a
waterfall tumbled into a quiet little boat-harbour, the bathing-pool
of sea-lions. Then they determined to build a boat and reach that
elysium, the main island, with its depôt of stores. With greased canvas
and crooked boughs cut from the gnarled veronica, which was their only
timber, they managed to botch up something between a caricature of a
Welsh coracle and “the rotten carcase of a boat” in which Antonio and
the King of Naples turned Prospero and Miranda adrift. Rowing this
leaky curiosity with forked sticks, three picked adventurers reached
the main island--only to return without reaching the depôt. Another
boat, and yet another, had to be built before a second transit could
be achieved; and when the second crossing was effected, the coracle
sank as the rowers scrambled on shore. This, however, completed the
catalogue of their disasters, and was “the last of their sea-sorrow.”
The depôt was reached in September, and in the boat found there the
tenants of Disappointment Island were removed to comfort and good
feeding at Port Ross. With the help of an old gun they did some
cattle-shooting on Enderby Island hard by, and in the end were taken
off by the Government steamer _Hinemoa_ in December.
Campbell Island, another habitable though sad-coloured spot, is a kind
of understudy of the Aucklands--like them, but smaller, with less
striking scenery and scantier plant life. It has, however, a local
legend odd enough to be worth repeating. In the hodden-grey solitude
there are certain graves of shipwrecked men and others. Among them
is one called the Grave of the Frenchwoman. On the strength of this
name, and of a patch of Scottish heather blooming near it, a tale has
grown up, or been constructed, which would be excellent and pathetic
if there were the slightest reason to suppose it true. It is that the
Frenchwoman who sleeps her last sleep in rainy Campbell Island was a
natural daughter of Charles Edward, the Young Pretender. She has even
been identified with the daughter of Prince Charles and Clementina
Walkenshaw, the Scottish lady who met him at Bannockburn House in the
’45, and long afterwards joined him abroad. This daughter--says the
New Zealand story--became, when she grew up, an object of suspicion
to the Prince’s Jacobite followers. They believed that she was a spy
in the pay of the English Court. So they induced Stewart, a Scottish
sea-captain, to kidnap the girl and carry her to some distant land.
Stewart--whose name remains on our Stewart Island--did his work as
thoroughly as possible by sailing with her to the antipodes of France.
On the way he gained her affections, and established her at Campbell
Island, where she died and was buried. Such is the story; sentiment has
even been expended on the connection between Bonnie Prince Charlie and
the patch of heather aforesaid.
It is true certainly that there was a daughter named Charlotte or
Caroline, or both, born to the Prince and Miss Walkenshaw in the year
1753. But it was the mother, not the daughter, who was suspected of
being a spy in English pay. Clementina left the Prince, driven away by
his sottish brutalities, just as did his legal wife, the Countess of
Albany. The Countess adjusted her account by running away with Alfieri
the poet. Abandoned by both women, Charles seems to have found some
consolation in the society of his daughter Charlotte, to whom, even in
his last degraded years, he showed his better side. He went through
the form of making her Duchess of Albany. She remained with him till
his death in 1788, and seems to have followed him to the grave a year
afterwards. In any case, Stewart, the sea-captain of the legend, did
not find his way to our southern isles till the earlier years of the
nineteenth century. That was too late by a generation for Jacobite
exiles to be concerned about the treachery of English agents. He is
described in Surgeon-Major Thomson’s book as a man “who had seen the
world and drunk Burgundy,” so it is possible that the story may have
had a Burgundian origin. Who the buried Frenchwoman was I cannot say,
but French seamen and explorers, as the map shows, have visited and
examined Campbell Island. It would be a desolate spot for a Frenchwoman
to live in; but when we are under earth, then, if the grave be deep
enough, all lands, I suppose, are much alike.
APPENDIX
A WORD TO THE TOURIST
[Illustration: WHITE CLIFFS, BULLER RIVER]
Passengers to New Zealand may be roughly divided into two kinds--those
who go to settle there, and those who go as visitors merely. The
visitors, again, may be separated into sportsmen, invalids, and
ordinary tourists who land in the country in order to look round
and depart, “to glance and nod and hurry by.” Now by passengers and
travellers of all sorts and conditions I, a Government official, may be
forgiven if I advise them to make all possible use of the Government
of the Dominion. For it is a Government ready and willing to give
them help and information. I may be pardoned for reminding English
readers that the Dominion has an office in London with a bureau, where
inquirers are cheerfully welcomed and inquiries dealt with. Official
pamphlets and statistics may not be stimulating or exciting reading;
but, though dry and cautious, they are likely to be fairly accurate. So
much for the information to be got in England. When the passenger lands
in New Zealand, I can only repeat the advice--let him make every use
he can of the Government. If he be in search of land, he cannot
do better than make his way to the nearest office of the Lands and
Survey Department. If he be a skilled labourer whose capital is chiefly
in his muscles and trade knowledge, the Department of Labour will
tell him where he can best seek for employment. Last, but not least,
if he be a tourist of any of the three descriptions above mentioned,
he cannot easily miss the Tourist Department, for that ubiquitous
organisation has agents in every part of the islands. Once in their
hands, and brought by them into touch with the State and the facilities
its railways offer, the traveller’s path is made as smooth as ample
knowledge and good advice can make it. The journey from Auckland to
Wellington may now be made by railway, while the voyage from Wellington
to Lyttelton is but a matter of ten to eleven hours. Old colonists will
understand what a saving of time and discomfort these changes mean.
The visitor need not overburden himself with any cumbrous or
extravagant outfit. He is going to a civilised country with a temperate
climate. The sort of kit that might be taken for an autumn journey
through the west of Ireland will be sufficient for a run through New
Zealand. A sportsman may take very much what he would take for a
hunting or fishing holiday in the highlands of Scotland; and, speaking
broadly, the mountaineer who has climbed Switzerland will know what to
take to New Zealand. Of course any one who contemplates camping out
must add the apparatus for sleeping, cooking, and washing; but these
things can be bought in the larger New Zealand towns at reasonable
prices.
A much more complicated question is the route which the traveller
should follow on landing. The districts for deer-shooting are well
known. Indeed, the sportsman need have no difficulty in mapping out
a course for himself. All will depend on the season of the year and
the special game he is after. Any one interested in the progress of
settlement and colonisation may be recommended to pass through the
farming district between the Waiau River in Southland and the river
of the same name which runs into the sea about sixty miles north of
Christchurch. Next he should make a journey from Wellington to New
Plymouth, along the south-west coast of New Zealand, and again from
Wellington to Napier, threading the districts of Wairarapa, the Seventy
Mile Bush, and Hawke’s Bay. The city of Auckland and its neighbourhood,
and the valley of the Waikato River also, he should not miss.
[Illustration: THE OTIRA GORGE]
Let me suppose, however, that what the tourist wants is rather the
wilderness and its scenery than prosaic evidence of the work of
subduing the one and wrecking the other. His route then will very much
depend on the port that is his starting-point. Should he land at Bluff
Harbour he will find himself within easy striking distance of the Otago
mountain lakes, all of which are worth a visit, while one of them,
Manapouri, is perhaps as romantic a piece of wild lake scenery as the
earth has to show. The sounds or fiords of the south-west coast can
be comfortably reached by excursion steamer in the autumn. The
tougher stamp of pedestrian can get to them at other times in the year
by following one of the tracks which cross the mountains from the lake
district aforesaid to the western coast. The beauty of the route from
Te Anau through the Clinton Valley, and by way of the Sutherland Falls
to Milford Sound, is unsurpassed in the island.
Aorangi, the highest peak of the Southern Alps, and the centre of
the chief glaciers, is best approached from Timaru, a seaport on the
eastern coast a hundred and twelve miles south of Christchurch. Any
one, however, who is able to travel on horseback may be promised a
rich reward if he follows the west coast, southward from the town of
Hokitika, and passes between Aorangi and the sea, on that side. Between
Hokitika and the Canterbury Plains the journey by rail and coach is for
half its distance a succession of beautiful sights, the finest of which
is found in the deep gorge of the Otira River, into which the traveller
plunges on the western side of the dividing range. Inferior, but well
worth seeing, is the gorge of the Buller River, to be seen by those who
make the coach journey from Westport to Nelson. Nelson itself is finely
placed at the inner end of the grand arc of Blind Bay. The drive thence
to Picton on Queen Charlotte Sound, passing on the way through Havelock
and the Rai Valley, has charming points of view.
The better scenery of the North Island is not found in the southern
portion unless the traveller is prepared to leave the beaten track and
do some rough scrambling in the Tararua and Ruahiné Mountains. Then,
indeed, he will have his reward. Otherwise, after taking in the fine
panorama of Wellington Harbour, he may be recommended to make his way
with all convenient speed to New Plymouth and the forest-clad slopes of
Mount Egmont. Thence he should turn to the interior and reach the Hot
Lakes district by way of one of the river valleys. That of the Mokau
is extremely beautiful in its rich covering of virgin forest. But the
gorges of the Wanganui are not only equal to anything of the kind in
beauty, but may be ascended in the most comfortable fashion. Arrived at
the upper end of the navigable river, the traveller will make his way
by coach across country to Lake Taupo and the famous volcanoes of its
plateau.
[Illustration: LAKE WAIKARE-MOANA]
More often the tourist gains the volcanoes and thermal springs by
coming thither southward from the town of Auckland. And here let
me observe that Auckland and its surroundings make the pleasantest
urban district in the islands. Within thirty miles of the city there
is much that is charming both on sea and land. Nor will a longer
journey be wasted if a visit be paid to the chief bays and inlets of
the northern peninsula, notably to Whangaroa, Whangarei, Hokianga,
and the Bay of Islands. Still, nothing in the province of Auckland
is likely to rival in magnetic power the volcanic district of which
Roto-rua is the official centre. To its other attractions have now
been added a connection by road with the unspoiled loveliness of Lake
Waikarémoana and the forest and mountain region of the Uriwera
tribe, into which before the ’nineties white men seldom ventured, save
in armed force. Rising like a wall to the east of the Rangitaiki River
the Uriwera country is all the more striking by reason of the utter
contrast it affords to the desolate, half-barren plains of pumice which
separate it from the Hot Lakes. These last and their district include
Taupo, with its hot pools and giant cones. But the most convenient
point among them for a visitor’s headquarters is undoubtedly Roto-rua.
Index
Acclimatisation, 59
Acclimatisers, 65
Adams, Arthur, 21
Akaroa, 190, 201, 215
Albatrosses, 213
Alps, 6, 160, 166, 179
Antipodes Island, 206
Aorangi, 163, 164, 165, 167, 170, 173, 175, 233
Ara-tia-tia Rapids, 123
Art, 20, 21, 49
Auckland, 19, 28, 75, 90, 101, 104, 114, 129, 132, 142, 193, 231, 232,
234 Isles, 91, 94, 184, 191, 204, 205, 206, 222, 223, 225
Australia, 5, 10, 11, 20, 37, 73, 101, 165
Australian stock-riders, 68
Bay of Plenty, 115, 116, 117, 120, 140
Beech, 87 woods, 161
Bell, Dr. Mackintosh, 176
Bell-bird, 192
Bidwill, 128, 136
Blackwell, 24
Blue duck, 64
Bounties, the, 206, 207
Bowen, the 182
British trees, 7
Broadleaf, the large or shining, 94
Brunner, 177, 193
Buddle, Mr., 117
Buick, 24
Buller River, 160, 233
Bush-fire, 105 lawyer, 99 settler, 40
Butler, Samuel, 162, 163
Butter, 12, 13, 14, 16, 17 factories, 11
Caddell, James, 196, 197
Campbell Island, 227, 228, 229
Canoe, 76, 77
Cape Maria Van Diemen, 133, 204
Carrick, Mr., 24
Chapman, Mr. Justice, 200, 206
Charles Edward, the young Pretender, 228
Chatham Island lily, 222
Chatham Islands, the, 190, 204, 211, 212, 214, 215, 216, 217, 218, 219,
220, 221
Cheese, 12, 13, 14, 17
Chief towns, 18
Christchurch, 28, 132, 162, 232, 233
Clematis, 37, 94, 95
Climate, 2, 3, 4, 5, 10, 14, 35, 36, 38, 52, 165, 170, 187, 222
Clutha River, 202
Cockayne, Dr., 24, 191
Colenso, 95, 97
Contrasts, 6
Cook, Captain, 168, 180, 195
Coprosma, 100
Country labourers, 50 life, 28, 29, 32, 35, 39 life tendencies, 46
Cowan, Mr. James, 24, 130
Craddock, Colonel, 53
Cricket, 72, 73
Decentralised colony, 19
Deer-stalking, 61
Department of Public Health, 44
Disappointment Island, 204, 226, 227
Domett, 21, 138, 155
Douglas glacier, 176
Drummond, Mr. James, 24
_Dundonald_, the barque, 225
Dunedin, 28
Dusky Sound, 180, 186 Sound in 1771, 195
Eels, 65, 213, 214
Egmont, Mount, 105, 125, 165, 234
_Elingamite_, 211
English trees and flowers, 2
Eruption of Tarawera, 139, 144
Factories, 26
Factory hands, 26
Fairies, 77, 78, 79, 81, 82, 83
Fairy-tales, 80
Farm labourers, 14, 51
Farmers, 8, 13, 17, 29, 30, 31, 46, 47, 50, 106
Farming, 32
Fern, 55, 86
Ferns, 38, 85, 116, 119
Fiords, 179
Fire, 77, 102, 106, 107, 108, 110, 125, 183
Fish, 65
Fishing, 49
Fitzgerald, E. A., 171, 172, 173
Flax, 12, 13, 37, 86, 95, 99, 202, 213
Flightless birds, 184, 186, 188 duck, 184, 204
Football, 71, 72
Forests, 104, 105
Freeholders, 48
Freezing, 13 factory, 15
Frozen beef, 17 mutton, 11
Fuchsias, 94
Garden, 34, 49, 107
Gardening, 36, 85
_General Gates_, the, 197
_General Grant_, the, 224, 225
Gentians, 94, 223
Gerard, Mr. George, 61
Geyser, 116, 119, 139, 148, 150, 151, 152, 164
Goats, 52, 53, 54, 104, 191, 223
Godwits, 62, 192
Gold-mining, 13
_Grafton_, the, 224
Grass, 2, 7, 41, 72, 102, 106, 107, 108, 120, 121, 124, 125, 163, 222,
226
Green, Mr., 166, 168, 171, 175
Green’s climb, Mr., 169
Greenstone, 200
Grey, Sir George, 80, 129, 155
Grey duck, 62, 64 kiwi, 184
Hamilton, A., 24
Hardie, Mr. Keir, 27
Harewood, 215
Hauraki Gulf, 74, 186, 192
Hau-roto, 160, 177, 179
Hawke’s Bay, 104, 232
Hazard, Mr., 145
Healing waters, 154
Health Department, 45
Hemp, 12, 13
Henry, Mr. Richard, 187, 188, 189
High Alps, 57
Hinemoa, 155
Hochstetter, 136, 163 ice-fall, 176
Hongi, 156, 157, 158
Hooker glacier, 172, 174, 176
Hori Haupapa, 157
Horo-Horo, 126
Horses, 68, 69, 71
Hotels, 20
Hot Lakes, 134, 234, 235 Lakes District, 118
House-sparrow, 60
Howitt, Mr. Charlton, 193
Huka, 123
Hutton, 24
Inter-colonial trade, 10
Island sanctuaries, 186
_Jean Bart_, the, 218, 219
_Journal of the Polynesian Society_, 24, 219
Kahikatea, 101
Kahukura, 80
Kaka, 57, 63, 84, 96
Kakapo, 184, 186, 189
Kapiti, 186, 190, 191, 217
Karaka, 37, 95, 96, 97, 98, 191, 212, 214
Kauri, 11, 88, 89, 90, 91, 101, 103, 106, 192 gum, 13
Kea, 57, 58, 167, 186
Kermadecs, 133, 204, 207, 208
Kirk, 91
Kirk’s _Forest Flora_, 24
Kiwi, 186, 188, 189
Kowhai, 87, 94, 95, 96
Krakatoa, 141
Laing, 24, 92
Lake Taupo, 116, 127, 234 Tikitapu, 144
Lakes of the South Island, 177
Lance-wood, 88, 100
Likeness to England, 2
Literature, 21, 22, 23
Little Barrier Island, 75, 186, 191, 192
Mackay, Miss, 21
Manapouri, 177, 179, 187, 192, 232
Mannering, Mr., 170, 171
Manuka, 37, 55, 95
Maori--their belief in fairies, 77, 78, 79 boys, 96 burning of forest,
103 cannibalism, 126 canoes, 198 chief, 141 children, 44 cooking, 153
of Cook’s Strait, 215 dogs, 57, 220 drink, 44 fairy-tales, 80 fight,
192 their food, 83 gentleman, 128 guide, 134 guns, 84 their health,
43 history, 199 Horo-Horo, 126 hunters, 184 karaka, their use of the,
97, 98 kindness, 210 Lake Taupo, 116, 122, 123 their lands, 44 as
minstrels, 130 myths, 76 their numbers, 43, 218 offerings to Tané, 77
their outlook, 45 poem, 131 prophets, 159 their qualities, 45 race,
129, 158 ruins of stockade, 118 solitary family, 195 tradition, 115
travellers, 125 tribe, 40, 157 villages, 152 warrior, 158 woman, 133
women, 100
Matai, 87
Matipo, 37
Mayor Island, 118, 119, 120
Meat, 13, 14, 16 freezing, 14
Middle class, 25
Milford Sound, 180, 181, 182, 183, 200
Mistletoe, 94
M’Kinnon, Quintin, 193
M’Nab, Mr., 24, 198
Moa, 184, 199
Mokoia, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159
Moriori, 190, 212, 213, 214, 216, 217, 218
Motor-driving, 49
Mount Cook, 163, 175 Ruapehu, 95 Tasman, 164
Mountain-lily. See Shepherd’s lily
Murchison glacier, 176
Music, 21, 49
Mutton, 13, 16, 34, 41, 58
Mutton-bird, 84, 206, 213
Names of lakes and mountains, 178
Napier, 232
National parks, 183
Native pigeons, 62
Nei-nei, 100
Nelson, 28, 74, 142, 177, 233
Newspapers, 22, 23
New Zealand harriers, 69
Ngaitahu, 199, 202, 203
Ngata, Mr. Apirana, M.P., 45
Ngatimamoe, 199, 203
Ngatoro, 115, 116, 146
Ngauruhoe, 116, 128
Nikau, 37, 88
Ohinemutu, 118, 133, 145, 152
Orchids, 94
Otira River, 233
Over-sea trade, 10
Palm-lily, 37, 88
Palm-tree, 86, 99
Panax, 88
Paradise duck, 64
Parrots, 62, 96
Parrot’s-beak, 94
Passion-flower, 94
Pelorus Jack, 66
Picton, 233
Pigeon, 84
Pigs, 233
Pink and White Terraces, 136, 137, 150, 164
Poetry, 21
Pohaturoa, 126
Pohutu, 151
Pohutu-kawa, 37, 87, 91, 192
Polack, 158
Polo, 49, 70
Pomaré, Dr., 45
Potts, Thomas, 24, 57, 104, 213
Products, 10
Provinces, 18
Pukeko, 63
Pumice, 120, 121, 124
Puoho, 201, 202
Puriri, 88, 90, 91, 93
Rabbit, 53, 59, 185
Rata, 76, 77, 87, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 187, 191, 223
Rauparaha, 190, 199, 201, 203, 215, 217
Recreations, 49
Red-deer, 60
Resemblance to Scotland, 2
Resolution Island, 186, 187, 196
Rewa-rewa, 88
Ribbon-wood, 95, 161
Riding, 49, 68
_Rifleman_, the, 219
Riggs, Captain Abimelech, 199
Rimu, 77, 87, 91
Roa, 184
_Rodney_, the, 215
Ross, Mr., 24, 130, 170, 174
Roto-ehu, 121
Roto-iti, 121, 144, 156
Roto-kakahi, 121
Roto-ma, 121
Roto-mahana, 118, 120, 121, 133, 136, 137, 140, 141, 143, 145
Roto-roa, 179
Roto-rua, 66, 67, 117, 121, 126, 133, 136, 145, 147, 148, 149, 151,
153, 154, 156, 175, 234, 235
Rua, 159
Ruapehu, 118, 119, 125, 126, 140
Salmon, 65
Saw-miller, 110, 112, 114 mills, 101, 102, 103, 105, 106
Scenery, 5, 6, 10, 52
Scenic reserves, 105
Selwyn, Bishop, 3, 128, 158, 214
Settlement, 8, 41, 160
Settlements, 18
Settler, 42, 106, 107, 162
Settlers, 49, 108, 128, 142, 207
Shand, Mr., 24, 214
Sheep, 11, 15, 45, 53, 56, 58, 59, 98, 103, 107, 109, 144, 163, 170,
220 stations, 33
Shepherd’s lily, 95, 161
Shipping companies, 15
Shipwrecks, 224
Shooting, 49
Smith, Mr. Percy, 24, 104, 116, 119
Snares, 205, 206, 207
Snaring, 83
Societies, 25
Society, 24
Sophia, the guide, 141, 147
Sounds, the, 179, 180, 182, 193, 195
Southern Alps, 14, 59, 163, 165, 233
Sparrows, 185, 187, 188, 191
Spearing, 67, 83
Sport, 50, 52, 66, 67, 70, 71, 149
Stack, Canon, 78, 199
State sanatorium, 153
Station, 35 hands, 39, 58
Steamship companies, 10, 19
Stewart, the sea-captain, 212, 228, 229
Stitch-bird, 192
Stoats, 59, 60, 185
Supplejack, 99
Sutherland Falls, the, 181, 182, 192 Falls to Milford Sound, 233
Takahé, 184
Tané, 78, 83
Tapu, 197
Tarata, 95
Tarawera, 120, 121, 136, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 145, 151
Tasman, 194, 195, 208, 209 glacier, 175, 176 Sea, 5
Taupo, 116, 119, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 133, 134, 148, 149, 153,
235
Tawa, 87
Te Anau, 177, 178, 179, 187, 192, 233
Te Heu Heu, 127, 128, 129, 130, 137, 158
Te Kanawa, 81, 82
Te Kooti, 219, 220
Terrace, 140, 143
Terraces, the, Pink and White, 136, 137, 150, 164
Te Waro, 151
Thermal Springs District, 118
Three Kings, the, 204, 208
Tikitapu, 121
Timber, 101, 103, 106, 108, 113, 125 cutting, 13
Titoki, 91
Toé-toé, 37, 95
Tohunga, 82, 158
Tongariro, 116, 119, 126, 127, 137, 146
Totalisator, 71
Totara, 77, 88, 90
Tourist Department, Government, 24, 175, 231
Towns, 19, 20, 22, 24, 28
_Transactions of the N.Z. Institute_, 24, 116, 200
Tree-felling, 109, 111 ferns, 38, 88, 191, 223
Tregear, Edward, 24, 77, 158
Trout, 66, 67, 109, 149
Tuhawaiki, 190, 202
Tukoto, 146, 147, 158, 159
Tutu, 95, 98
Union Steamship Company, 9
University, 18
Uriwera, 159, 235
Vegetable sheep, 58, 99
Veronicas, 37, 161, 223
Vogel, Sir Julius, 102, 104
Volcanoes, 6, 120, 234
Von Haast, 163, 166, 193 Hochstetter, 90, 164
Waikarémoana, 234
Waikato, 81, 123, 126, 150, 190, 232
Waikité Geyser, 150, 151
Waimangu, 150
Wairakei, 149
Wairoa, 145, 146
Wakatipu, 177, 178, 194
Walkenshaw, Clementina, 228, 229
Wall, Arnold, 21
Wandering albatross, 38, 206
Wanganui, 105, 125, 128, 234
Weasels, 59, 60, 185, 186
Webb, 74
Wekas, 188, 189
Wellington, 19, 28, 74, 132, 231, 232 Harbour, 234
Whaka-rewa-rewa, 147
Whangarei, 75, 234
Whangaroa, 75, 234
White Island, 115, 116, 117, 119, 140
Wild cattle, 54 dogs, 56 ducks, 63, 205 ducks--flightless, 184, 204
fowl shooting, 62 goats, 52, 53, 54, 104, 191, 223 parrots, 84 pigs,
54, 55, 109
Wood-fairies, 76 pigeon, 63
Wool, 10, 11, 12, 15, 34, 221
Working gentlemen, 48
Wreck of the steamship _Elingamite_, 209
Yachts, 74
_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.
[Illustration: Map of New Zealand]
MAP ACCOMPANYING “NEW ZEALAND,” by the Hon. W. PEMBER REEVES and F. & W.
WRIGHT. (A. & C. BLACK, LONDON).
_F. W. Flanagan, delt. Sept 1882._
Transcriber’s Notes
The changes are as follows:
Page viii in the index—Aratiatia changed to Ara-tia-tia.
Page 6—pine-woods changed to pine woods.
Page 10—over sea changed to oversea.
Page 31—axe-men changed to axemen.
Page 35—outdoor changed to out-door.
Page 71—network changed to net-work.
Page 100—lancewood changed to lance-wood.
Page 107—grass-seed changed to grass seed.
Page 124—ARATIATIA changed to ARA-TIA-TIA.
Page 187—sand-flies changed to sandflies.
Page 194—bushrangers changed to bush-rangers.
Page 207—bathing pool changed to bathing-pool.
Page 215—sea birds changed to sea-birds.
Page 215—shell fish changed to shell-fish.
Page 232—mountain-lakes changed to mountain lakes.