(CONTINUED).
We made several trips in the yacht to different ports in the South Sea
Islands, and to south ports in Van Dieman’s Land, trading and carrying
passengers as the opportunity presented itself.
We now had an interesting experience, as we had entered her in the cup
race which was held in the middle island of New Zealand, and was one of
the events in that locality.
We were to race against the English mail ketch “Sylph.” She was a crack
yacht, having been used in carrying the mails to the different islands,
and up to this time had never been beaten in a race. We made everything
ready; although our suit of sails were of English make and fitted
badly, they were adapted to heavy weather, which, should it blow hard,
would be in our favor.
The morning of the race came, and with it a heavy wind, and at 10 a.m.
we maneuvred around the guardship for position. When we were in line
the starting gun was fired and we were off. The course we were to run
over was down the harbor to the heads, or entrance, where we were to
round a large red buoy, and then run back to the guard ship.
On our first trip around the buoy the Englishman beat us by at least a
quarter of a mile, but when we rounded and hauled up against the strong
wind, we had him. Now he was obliged to take in his light sails, and
even then was making bad weather. These conditions were just what I
had been praying for, and on our second tack we crossed his bows about
a half mile to windward, and I ordered a broom to be sent aloft and
fastened there. I did this as, on our first trip down, he had passed us
and when he went by had hung a line over his stern, indicating that he
would tow us in, but he had commenced too soon.
We rounded the guardship on our first turn about 20 minutes ahead of
him, and the natives were yelling like mad.
About we came and started down the harbor on our last leg, the wind
increasing all the time so that we were obliged to reef our mainsail.
As we passed the Sylph, not a sound came from them; they knew we had
them, and we certainly had them good. On our last leg the waters were
covered with white caps, and we pulled down all our headsails as we
rounded the guardship for the last time, a winner. I now hoisted the
American flag in the fore-mast and set our British ensign over the
stern. This was a little cheeky, as I was sailing under the British
flag, and the United States were not, at that time, any too popular.
The weather was so rough that the Sylph came in with her top-mast and
jib-boom both gone and with a crestfallen man as her captain, for
it was the first race he had ever lost, and we had beaten him by 55
minutes, corrected time.
When the race had started the betting was 3 to 1 against us, and the
captain of the Sylph had himself bet two hundred pounds sterling that
he would win. That evening, at the hotel ashore, we were presented
with the cup and a flag, a large crowd being present, and dancing and
singing being the order of the night.
I was invited to spend that night ashore, with one of my owners, at
Christ Church, a little village across the mountains and in the valley
of Heathcote. As it was blowing very hard at the time, and as the mate
was the only man on board the yacht, I reluctantly accepted, but felt
very uneasy about my vessel.
During the night the wind blew a hurricane, and at 5 a.m. I started
back to the port. My host had loaned me a saddle horse to cross the
mountain with, and when I reached the top and looked down the river, a
sad sight met my eyes. The yacht had broken adrift and was alongside of
an English brig with her foresail partly hoisted. Before I could get a
boat to put me aboard, she commenced to move down the harbor.
Then I knew the mate was drunk. We pulled and waved, and she finally
came up into the wind and headed for the south side of the harbor. I
boarded a ship (the British Empire), whose captain was a friend of
mine, and he gave me a long-boat and crew and small hawser, and we
crossed over to head the schooner off, shouting to the mate to drop
the anchor and ease off his sheet. But it was of no avail. We pulled
alongside just as he hove the wheel down, and, drifting on the rocks,
we dropped anchor, but too late, for in twenty minutes her keel was
out, masts gone, and she was bottom up in the surf on the rocks.
Thus ended the life of the Yankee yacht Charmer, or Canterbury, as she
was re-christened under the British flag. It was a sad day for me, as I
had spent nearly two years on her, making many record trips, and paying
for her several times over.
During my voyages among these islands I met many of the native Maori
or aboriginal Indians, and had much to do with them in my trading.
They are a Polynesian people with some Melanesian mixture. They are
of vigorous and athletic frame, tall stature, and pleasing features,
and are among the bravest and most war-like of men. They were great
wood-carvers, and had the art of tatooing down to a science. Formerly
inveterate cannibals, they are now civilized citizens.
The English had many hard fights with them, but they were finally
overpowered, the skirmishing lasting up to 1875. They raised many
cattle and sheep, and many of them went in whaling ships.
The islands of New Zealand are among the most valuable of the British
possessions, and are immensely wealthy in natural resources. The gold
mines of Otago drew many American adventurers, who became very wealthy.
I shall never forget those beautiful islands nor my boyhood experiences
there in the old sea days.