CAMPBELL ISLANDS EXPEDITION

Dominion, Volume 30, Issue 173, 19 April 1937, Page 8

CAMPBELL ISLANDS EXPEDITION

Adventurous Project LONELY GROUP IN BLEAK SEAS An expedition to the Campbell Islands, 290 miles southward of New Zealand, is contemplated by Mr. J. Jackson, of Jackson’s Bay, Westland. In an interview with “The Dominion,” Mr. Jackson stated that be was even now looking about for a suitable ship to make the voyage. Breaking the bleak seas far off the track of ships, these small and lonely islands have long been inhabited only by wandering seals and sea binds and untended Hocks of sheep. But as long ago as 1913 Mr. Jackson was settled on this loneliest of New Zealand’s outposts, engaged in whaling and sheepfanning and fishing, in company with a band of kindred spirits. At present I lie islands carry some 8000 half-wild sheep, the shearing of which should in itself justify the expedition, stated Mr. Jackson. But he proposes to do more than that. _lhe main island comprises some 45,000 acres of tussock country, Government leasehold, at present untenanted. It should, said Mr. Jackson, support nearly 20,000 sheep, with due development. But the Campbell Islands possess other resources even more picturesque than the lonely flocks. . In the past there w.as a whaling station there, and no doubt they are still the resort of these giant sea-beasts. When Mr. Jackson was formerly on the island his gang In a short season killed 23 splendid right whales. They rowed after the whales in the old five-oar boats, he said, and killed them in hand-to-hand fight with the old-fashioned hand harpoon and lance, and laboriously towed them home to try them out in iron cauldrons on-the beach. The rusting trypots are still there. There came to the island, not only whales, but fur seals, and after the seals came the sealers. Mr. Jackson told how, on a certain morning, his men looked down from the hilltop and saw on that lonelj’ beach a crew of strangers. busy piling up newly-taken pelts. So they were shrewd, he and his shepherd whalers. He swarmed down the cliff—at that end of the island one had to descend on a hand-line —and told the strangers he was a Government ranger, and that the skins would be confiscated. At that they went with him to the homestead, for they saw the heads of his men against the sky at the cliff’s summit, and they believed he had a party of coastguards covering them. For, of course, sealing in territorial waters was even then strictly forbidden. When they learnt the trick that had been played on them, the poachers were greatly relieved, said Mr. Jackson. But it would have mattered little had the whalers tried to hinder them, for the New Zealanders were unarmed and the poachers carried heavy sealing rifles. When she missed her men, the schooner put into the bay and the captain chme ashore. He was a tough and lawless man, and told Mr. Jackson liow he shot the seals by day when they were fishing beyond the three-mile limit, but by night when no Government ship was there to stop them they landed a crew, drove the flocks of yearlings down the beach, and knocked them on the head with clubs and skinned them, many hundreds a night. Tins captain even tried to persuade the whalers to kill seals for them, offering a pound a skin. Mutton-birds nest in thousands on the islands. The solitary albatross nests there. The tall penguins march along the beaches in solemn calvacade, like ridiculous toy soldiers come to life. It is a wild and fascinating spot. Nearby, under the tall cliff of an outlying isle, the treasure-ship General Grant lies with her cargo of yellow coin in its mouldering strong-boxes, 30 fathoms deep in the stormiest seas of earth. An old whaler, Mr. Jackson is wellknown, both in the Marlborough Sounds and down the "West Coast. His grandfather, the original “Jimmy Jackson” of whom much is written ip the early histories of Marlborough, was one of Captain Jack Gard’s whaling party who settled at Te Awaiti about 1829. The bay next to Te Awaiti, in Tory Channel, is still known as Jackson’s Bay, and so is that other in Westland where the present Mr. Jackson owns property. Known, like his grandfather, throughout the Sounds country as “Jimmy Jackson,” he is celebrated among yachtsmen and others who frequent the coast on account of his gift of anecdote. He is a big, burly man, well over six feet tall, with the weather-beaten complexion of a seafarer, and an endless store of yarns. As yet, states Mr. Jackson, no precise plans have been formulated, but he does not anticipate any difficulty in getting the expedition under way. He anticipates spending, if necessary, two years on the island and making' a numher of trips between there and the mainland, bringing back the island produce.