SHIPS WE LOVE.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 123, 26 May 1928, Page 1 (Supplement)

SHIPS WE LOVE.

OLD FRIENDS OF THE HARBOUR. LITTLE STEAMERS AND THEIR MEMORIES. THE DISTINCTIVE SCOW. (By PETER DRAX.) With the news of the completion of the Maui Pomare isvborn the thought— how long before the little steamers of Auckland harbour will give way to glorified motor launches ? For it is the little ships we love; they are bur friends— the Southern Cross, the Hinemoa, the Clansman, and half a hundred more.

The towering deep sea freighters and resplendent liners are but chance acquaintances; they visit us only after long intervals, and then stay for a short time. We cannot get used to them and know them as we do the coasting craft, and have to share with other ports their doubtful allegiance. No, it is the little ships that make the appeal, and on their side they count a length of service which is very, very rarely equalled by their seniors of the trade routes of the world. The reason is hard to give, but even the most cursory glance through Lloyd's list will prove the truth of this statement, and give one cause to wonder at the age of certain well-known ships which still run out of Auckland Harbour with the regularity of trains.

The Hinemoa is 52 years old, the f Clansman 44, and the Matangi a babe of 20. Small wonder is it then that men talk of these little vessels as of old and trusty friends—slowly and with affection—"The good old So-and-So Jove! I remember going to Tauranga in her in '92 . . ." But of the Niagara it is: "Yes-—she's a fine ship." Admiration, but little friendliness. She is but a mean* of transport, decorated and furnished. She has a lift (or are these in the Aorangi ?) —but no memories; hot baths but no homeliness.

And now for the "pensioners"—"hulks" unimaginative people crudely call them —huddling together within the area set aside for their accommodation up the harbour, yarning together of the good old days. But the Rewa, wi*i her masts and spars still standing, keeps aloof

from this old wives' gathering. Ancient paddle boats and gutted barques— repositories for coal their only use—the Rewa scorns. There was a time during the war when her regular freight soared to £8 a ton, and she has not forgotten those days yet, and when a scow passes, beating up against the ebb, the Rewa looks the other wav.

Romance of the sea did not die with the advent of steam, when the famous clippers were driven off the seas, or on the retirement of the few, such as the Rewa, which held on in spite of competition. It is alive to-day in these little shoal draught scows which, fair weather or foul, make their way up and down our coasts. Creeping over a bar near high water, they nose their way on a flood tide up a tree-bordered creek and, when the ebb runs out, lie secure and upright alongside some rough wharf where soon the carts and sledges will congregate to bear away their cargo. If they have motors—what of it? Sails still reign supreme, and the motor is but an auxiliary, as was the steam •ngine in the earlv seventies, when our "ather.-s came to New Zealand.

Many arc the tales of heroism and laring about the old sailing ship skipper, but the men who bad the job of bringing out a cranky paddle boat, at a time when that type of vessel had a ruising range of a few hundred miles inlv, deserve praise of the highest. When the port of departure was cleared the floats of the paddles would be unshipped, and all sail set. Think of it! Sailing out from England round the Cape in a ship smaller than the Hinemoa, in a ship as broad as she was long, very nearly, which rolled villainously at the slightest provocation* with i crew, some of whom bad never been out of sight of land before. Then to be within steaming distance of vour port and have your firebars burn out or the' engines break down. A head wind a month, perhaps two, at sea, and 'the crew mutinous. I

of t£ Z ■ JUSt a feW of the troubles of the old pioneers; and the men whol man our scows to-day keep this spirit and e 'v n it , me " Who man the la »nches vßnht yachts ~^ ut neither launches nor L ™ £ an ! the I )lace of the scow " " r hcfJ rts. They may be beautiful, graceful, clean, but our regard for them is impersonal. They belong to individuals. The scow belongs to New Zealand, iachts may be seen in almost any part wor,d > but there is no other ship like the scow. She has an individuality as strong, and is as much a part of our country as the junk is of China, the dhow of Arabia and Egypt, or the Ihames barge of the South of England. In the scow is perpetuated the glory of sail and of individual enterprise, which form a- very real and useful link between town and backblock, island and mainland.