REGATTA DAY.

Auckland Star, Volume LXV, Issue 21, 25 January 1934, Page 6

REGATTA DAY.

SCENES IN THE 'NINETIES.

(By ISABEL M. CLUETT.)

Anniversary Day, or, as it was more generally called, "Regatta Day," was looked upon as an occasion in the 'nineties, particularly by youthful residents of North Shore, j For weeks beforehand wo talked of the great event and prayed for line weather. A wet Regatta was a calamity, and whether it is that retrospect usually throws a rosy light on events, the fact is I ca.ii scarcely recall a wet Anniversary Day in my youth. On a fine summer day with a fair breeze blowing there was 110 lovelier sight, in the world than the Waitcmata en fete for annual celebration. The harbour, a shimmering expanse of sunlit blue and silver, was dotted far and hear with the white wings of graceful yachts heeling to the breeze, their gay pennons fluttering and snapping overhead, while pleasure craft of all descriptions darted here and there, and native' canoes with ferociously-grinning figureheads clove the calm seas at tremendous speed. The flagship, usually one of H.M. cruisers, in gala array, majestically dominated the scene, decked from stem to stern with festoons of gaily-coloured bunting, a thing of beauty to childish eyes, set in the blue dazzle of sun

and sea. Brisk little ferry boats went to and fro, bearing visitors to the flagship, from w.hich proud position many preferred to watch the races and were prepared to pay for the privilege. These ferries were not the spacious and dignified boats of to-da*y with their trim lines and white-scrubbed decks and almost silent engines, with roofed-in deckhouses and promenades for walking. The ferries were small, pufling paddle-wheeled affairs which

came up alongside the flagship with prodigious

fuss and splashing and churning of paddles, whose canvas awnings were spark-bitten and soot-grimed. and whose decks were gritty j underfoot, being subject to a rain of smuts at any change of course. There were races for man-o'-war cutters (whoever hears H.M. 'ships called "men-o'-war" now?), for yachts [and scows; rowing races, native canoe races, and obstacle races for the Maori women. I There were native liakas on the shore, swimjming races in Calliope dock, and on one never- [ to-be-forgotten occasion the blowing up of [the first boat built at Devonport, the Enterprise 11. No wonder the children regarded Regatta Day as one long thrill. On the trig station of Mount Victoria— called for so many years by the more picturesque name of Flagstaff Hill—strings of flags were fluttering gaily over the grim old cannon pointing black muzzles seaward. Life . . . colour . . . excitement . . . across the drab procession of the days Regatta Day splashed a gay, broad stripe of colourful romance. The boom of a gun from the flagship to announce the opening of proceedings. Scows, heavily graceful with a full spread of canvas came up in the eye of the wind as smartly as yachts; whaleboats, maimed by bluejackets, flew along with the grace of skiffs and the precision of machines. Down the blue sea lane they all went, past the long, green shores and golden beaches, past that unique long-vanished islet known as the Sugar Loaf, past Bean Rock with its quaint little castle of a lighthouse and the black rocks and green sea swirls of old North Head to the bobbing red buoy which marked the limit of the course. Shall we ever know again the superb and thrilling spectacle of the native war canoe races, the huge carved prows cutting through the clear water with a hissing and jseething of foam, the magnificent yonng warriors in their native mats and feathered headbands, the rhythmic dip and flash of fifty naddles as one, while an old wahine in the bows postured and gesticulated and yelled an interminable savagely-shrill chant to urge on the hard-panting rowers? Shall we see again the wahines with their coarse, black hair flowing, vieing with one another in the obstacle races at the edge of the tide in women's canoes, which had to jump the low hurdles in the course? The yells of the competitors, their good-humoured laughter as they came to grief at a hurdle, their valiant attempts to right the craft and surmount their difficulties, the broad, flashing smiles and excited jabbering of the dripping prize winners, and the shrieks of mirth of the spectators made a merry din that is pleasant to recall now when "our bcaches are so much more sophisticated. The Maoris assembled for the haka, splendid young men with bare, bronzed chests and short, swinging kilts of plaited fibres, and grizzled warriors who remembered when "the dance" was in deadly earnest and its fierce, chanting and earth-shaking stamping struck terror to the heart of the pakeha. Like statues of bronze, they stood motionless, and then began a muttered chant, rising at times ,to a short, fierce ejaculation, and accompanied by a rhythmic clapping of hands on sinewy brown knees. In and out of the ranks ran and pranced and howled an old wahine with wild witch locks flying, inciting . . . exciting. . . . Louder, fiercer, wilder rose the chant, and the measured beating of knees, the stamping of bare, brown feet in perfect unison shook the ground, the meres were brandished in air, the shrill chant of the wa.hine rose on a more frenzied note, and soon the orderly ranks became a tossing sea of naked brown limbs, flying black hair, and dark, fierce, hideously-distorted faces. Spectators began to feel a little uneasy. This was too much like the real thing, these savage cries, this advancing wave of frenzied men, some of whom in their excitement had torn battens from the fences and brandished them with ferocious gestures and howls. Then some official had an inspiration, and across the line of march waddled a procession of wahines, laughing, grimacing, flinging themselves into grotesque attitudes so that spectators and warriors alike burst into shouts of laughter, and the rising excitement was quelled. Europeans drew a breath of relief, but it was all part of the fun to the children, knowing nothing of the half-tamed, dark instincts of the savage men. Yes, those were the days!