HERMIT OF THE SOUTH

Press, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22419, 4 June 1938, Page 19

HERMIT OF THE SOUTH

THERE is no more legendary figure in the West Coast country known as the far south than Maori Bill, for long the famous hermit of Jackson’s Bay. Maori Bill died before the Great War, but his name, and stories of his lonely life, still loom large in the talk of the people of South Westland, and his fame has even spread overseas. Maori Bill must not be confused with the still living Arawata Bill, who, while supplanting the former to some extent in the list of local celebrities, lives in a new age, and is not likely ever to rise to the height of legendary fame achieved by Maori BiJi. Who the hermit of Jackson’s Bay was does not appear to be definitely known. He was not a Maori, and available records indicate that he was, before his coming to New Zealand, an Irish guardsman in a famous regiment. It must have been in the early eighties that Maori Bill made the great resolve and became a hermit in every sense of the word, except that he was a travelling hermit and no recluse living for philosophic or religious rci jons a rigorous cave life. He was working one very hot day on the construction of the original Haast Pass track (so well authenticated stories have it), and working hard with pick and shovel, one of a big gang of men. It may have been because of the excessive heat; it may have been the deep gloom of the deep forests round them, or the pestering, great sandflies and mosquitoes that used to make life in those regions almost unbearable. Anyway, Maori Bill swore a great oath, threw down his tools, put on his ragged coat, and declared to the men round him that he would never work again in his life. “The sun has got to him,” you can imagine his mates conjecturing; or, “He’s going out for some grog.” But it was not the sun. and “grog” did not interest Maori Bill. Retreat at Jackson’s Bay The prospective hermit made straight for a deserted hut he knew of at the extreme end of Jackson’s Bay. It was probably one of the old homes used by prospectors, or by settlers who lived for a few brief years down in that area in a grim struggle with impossible odds. And there Maori Bill made his home for many years. He kept his resolve never to work again. He even minimised to the smallest degree the amount of work required to secure his daily food. He acquired an old

(specially written fob the press.) [By C. W. H. KYLE]

gun and two dogs, which for a while were as famous as the hermit. Very infrequently, stores would be landed for him at Jackson’s Bay from the Government steamer Hinemoa. Maori Bill, it is often told, would then keep out of sight of men from the boat, and there are slightly sad but dramatic tales of him standing on a rock and waving to the vessel as a signal that all was well with him. But those are only tales. Maori Bill, the authentic records show, would come alongside the ship’s boat and was even known to have gone on board in search of tobacco. His one great desire in life was tobacco of the richest variety for his old pipe. There are men still living who saw Maori Bill on trek in the Ai'awata, Jackson’s Bay, and Haast Valleys, and who watched his fine dogs doini their master’s work. Maori Bill would send the dogs out for food, and back they would come with birds, kaka, kiwi, or even pigeon, .it is said, and fish. The dogs were called Darkie and Fly. Sagacious Dogs There is a sinister story associated with the dogs, for someone obviously interested in harming the inoffensive hermit poisoned his dogs. He replaced them, but did not get over the loss. Maori Bill is reputed to have been something of a Baron Munchausen. He loved to tell impossible stories of his dogs. Darkie, he used to say, would even take his billy out to a creek, fill it, bring it in, and place it on the fire. Mr Colin Magfarlane, of Hokitika, who vouches for the main details of this account of Maori Bill, tells how he once camped with him and saw Darkie obey an order to go out and collect some wood for a fire, then to go but „and get a bird. Darkie succeeded in both injunctions. Still “packing a swag” over the same country covered by Maori Bill is another old identity of the West Coast, kindly known as “Old Sweeney,” who says that Maori Bill became so inured to going without regular food that he would be content for days with fern roots and tips. That, it is said, is why he became known as Maori Bill. This remarkable story about the ability of Maori Bill to fast is authenticated by the results of an examination made after his death or during the illness before it. He was found to have a stomach that

The Legend of Maori Bill

had shrunk to nearly half the normal size. If asked to have a piece of bread, Maori Bill would cut himself a piece a quarter, the size of the usual slice. He was a notable tea drinker. By sea they brought Maori _ Bill to Greymouth when he was said to be dying. He escaped from the Grey Hospital and walked 25 miles to Hokitika, only to die later in the Westland Hospital at Hokitika. Friends who were with him were disturbed over his repeated efforts to get up and return to his hut at Jackson’s Bay. He obviously had a great purpose in mind in endeavouring to get back there. Later, men using his hut—they were said to be conscientious objectors hiding during the war period —kicked over a jingling bag. In it were found 60 golden sovereigns, the proceeds of a pension which had been paid to Maori Bill for some years. The money was used to pay the hospital expenses.