FOREST OF CANDLES.

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 66, 19 March 1931, Page 9

FOREST OF CANDLES.

"TOM" INQER'S CAKE. HARDY CENTENARIAN. ALBERTLANDER'S MEMORIES. With 100 candles stuck on it, the birthday cake of Mr. Thomas Inger did look rather crowded, even though they were only miniature ones. There was a large gathering of relations and friends to-day at Port Albert to wish the old gentleman, if not the customary many happy returns, at least hearty congratulations on attaining his century. In spite of his great age he still enjoys tolerably good health. He is one of those small, wiry men who often prove to have more stamina than men twice their size and weight. He comes of a Nonconformist family which took life soberly, though they enjoyed it thoroughly. Thomas Inger lived a life that was full of hard work and nipt a few privations, but it was free from the distressing "St. Vitus' Dance" element that has made the life of so many moderns a perpetual whirl of excitement, and the even tenor of his life is probably the explanation of its remarkable length. Born in Nottingham in 1831, he has lived under four sovereigns, including the record reign of Queen Victoria, and the changes he has seen are rather overwhelming to co'ntemnlate..

Marooned. Thomas Inger was one of the Albertlanders who came out in 1862 to found a settlement on the shores of the Kaipara, under the leadership of W. R. Brame. These unfortunate people were deposited on an almost inaccessible spot in North Auckland, absolutely without roads, and they had to find their way up arms of the sea and creeks until roads were made, and even then they were mere tracks' for many years. Mr. Inger, then 31 years of age, was put in charge, of a 35-foot boat belonging to Mr. Brame, which was launched on the Kaipara, and used to ply between what is now Helensville and the new settlement. It is significant of the times that Mr. Inger knew little 91nothing of a boat or boating. "I knew nowt about -a boat; in fact, I did not know one end from t'other, and I did not even know that there were such things as tides," confessed the old gentleman, when telling the story. On board were a family called Baldock, and one night after the boat swamped and sank he got the Baldocks to go ashore while he went back for more stores. "We started off," he went on to say, "but we soon found that Ave did not know which way we had come, and had 'no idea where we were." Anyone who knows the Kaipara with its bewildering number of arms will appreciate the plight of the "new chums." "I'm thinking," said he, "that it was

a good job we did not see the opening between the heads or we might have sailed out to sea." Eventually, Mr. Inger found a white man at the mouth of the Hoteo River, and later a search party found him and took the boat back to Helensville. He had not the remotest idea where he had left the Baldocks, but they were eventually rescued after having been marooned for about a fortnight. That was the end of Mr. Inger's seafaring. Like so many of the Albcrtlanders, Mr. Inger built his own slab hut out of kauri that he cut and split himself, and in addition to making a home for himself he was mailman for the settlement and also policeman. His dutjes in upholding the law were light, as the settlers were a peaceful community, but the wiry little fellow nsed to have a hard time with Her Majesty's mails, swimming creeks and rivers in flood, and plodding his muddy way over tracks and through scrub and fern. The Maori Scare. During the Maori scare, when the Waikato tribes broke out, the Albertlanders passed many an uncomfortable night, and Mr. Inger never knew what was going to happen to his wife and children while he was away for days at a time, keeping the settlement in touch with civilisation. When he first took over the mail contract, he used to have to swim liis horse over the Hoteo River, and carry the mail on his head to keep it dry. Sometimes when he returned to the crossing he would find the river flooded, and he would just have to wait until it was again passable. Of roads or bridges there were none. At best he followed a track over the hills through the tea-tree and bracken.

Speaking of the Maori scare, Mr. Inger said the Northern tribes, though not actively hostile, were unfriendly towards the "pakelia." Mr. Inger considers it was only by the personal authority of the Rev. William Gittos that they were not massacred. When the trouble was at its worst he and his wife used to take turns at sitting up at night, with the children fully dressed, ready at an instant's notice to take refuge in the bush. "The Maoris," said the old man. "used to creep down near the house, caper about .and brandish their weapons, greatly to the alarm of my wife and the children, and then go aw-ay again. Every noise during the night we construed to mean one thing —Maoris. But, here sve are!" Nearly a Famine. Communication with the outside world was mainly by water, and on one occasion when the cutter was wrecked, provisions ran short, and the Albertlanders had to fall back on schnapper and pipis. Mr. Tnger recalls that for a whole month the family lived, on sago. The settlers used to grind their own corn in hand mills, and the turning of the machine was one of the dreaded tasks of youthful Albertlanders. Bu: ups and down were met philosophically by "Tom" Inger, as he was known to everyone, and he has jogged contentedly along and reached the century. Mr. Inger is the father of 11 children. When he was asked how many grandchildren there were, iie replied, "Good gracious! Dozens!" In fact, there are 30 grandchildren and 44 great-grand-children. A birthday party was held to-day at his home at Port Albert. About 50 people were present.