A LINK WITH THE PAST

Evening Star, Issue 20980, 19 December 1931, Page 2

A LINK WITH THE PAST

[Written by, ,W. M‘H., for the ‘Evening Star.’] 1 Recently wo were celebrating the centenary of the first whaling settlement at Otakou, and ancient records are still being overhauled. Some time previously, however, the death at 'Blenheim of “ the oldest resident in New Zealand,” Mrs Bore, aged 107, widow of a Maori chief, gave occasion for Hie ‘ Star,’ under the above caption, to recall some interesting histori--7 cal • facts regarding the still earlier whaling settlements in Marlborough. A. reperusal of the ‘Star’s’ article lately brought back to the writer some long-forgotten memories of “ Old Marlborough’’and the early days, of Blenheim. One of these ‘‘ random recollections,” being connected with the deceased centenarian, may bear recording. It takes ns back to about 1864 and" to the first occasion I saw the late Mrs, Bore. It was a somewhat notable occasion, too, but a very sad one for her, being the funeral’of a daughter of the house, a fine attractive young woman just about to have been married to a very popular young pakeha. The funeral took place at the Maori pa on the Wairau River, four or five miles from Blenheim. _ ' The tragic circumstances and high standing of the family brought hosts of Maori friends from far and near, an unusually large gathering, _ with a sprinkling of pakehas, including pur local photographer from “ Collie’s •Hollow.” The whole proceedings were impressive to a degree; although it was so long ago and I was only a lad at the time, the series of mental pic-, tures comes up vividly ,at call. There is the scattered Maori pa and the house of mourning, with hundreds of Maoris squatting round, while one and another of the older men get up to lead off the mournful chant or tell impassioned Maori ,oratory great sorrow —a moving, scene. . At the conclusion of the ■at the house the coffin was Ironre down to a waiting canoe, and we all went up the river. A year or two previous the Wairau in flood had cut out a new channel for itself, necessitating the removal of the pa a mile or so downstream, fhe. old .burial ground being left on what was now practically an’ iisland. It was to this ancient burial ground that the deceased,was now being conveyed, accompanied by a fleet of canoes, and this to me was the most spectacular feature of the day. The long procession of canoes up the smooth-flowing river with its high hanks, echoing back the mournful chant of a hundred voices, was a somewhat weird experience for me. The whole scene made a deep impression on my youthful mind, and so wonderful a faculty is memory , that even as i I write I can see that slowly-moving panorama sweeping tip the river, and hear again the wailing tones of that sorrowful lament. What could- be more wonderful? Each of us equipped with an indestructible talkie to be switched on at will to events twenty, forty, sixty years distant! Someone has put it into a song of thanksgiving: Thank God for the trees, Bird, blossom, breeze; But thank Him most For all for these; Friends, frolic, cheers, Love, laughter, tears, And memory, which Both Sees and Hears. In the article already referred to it Was recalled that while the mother ot Mrs Boro was of the Maori race her father , was Captain, Blenkinsopp, who climbed into fame and history byhiS remarkable land deal with the notorious Bauparaha, the latter trading . away most of the fertile Wairau Plain for an old ship’s canon. The story is well known, but much of the grim humour attached thereto is frequently overlooked. Although ultimately to end in tragedy—thp dreadful Wairau massacre —the transaction originally had many elements of a first-rate comedy. In the first place Te Bauparaha had no clear title to the Wairau. Bawiri Puaba, for the resident chiefs, informed Mr Tnckett the land was theirs, and not Te Rauparaha’s. On the other hand the precious cannon was an antiquated old gun left on the- beach at Port Underwood by a visiting whaler. It had lain for, years neglected until Blenkinsopp “ happened along,’’ and with a shrewd eye for business took possession. As a weapon of offence the gun was useless, but to make assurance doubly sure Blenkinsopp, before delivery, had it effectively spiked. The case then stood that Te Bauparaha traded away a stretch, of country to which be had no legitimate title, while Blenkinsopp paid, for it with a useless gun belonging, moreover, to another man—a very clear case of diamond cut diamond. This did not, however, end the comedy or exhaust the grim humour surrounding the transaction. A year or twp afterwards Blenkinsopp meanwhile having died, Colonel Wakefield, for the New Zealand Company, bought the deed of agreement from the captain’s widow, only to find later that what he had paid £3OO for in hard cash was merely a copy of the deed, .ind not worth the paper it was written _ on. The original document, it transpired, was in the hands of a Sydney lawyer, Mr Unwin, to whom Blenkinsopp had transferred it for—well, for “value received.” , As for the antiquated old gun, the cause of so much historic strife, after lying all “ imhonoured and unsung” on the beach at Guards’ Bay for a generation or more, it was rescued from obscurity and brought,up to Blenheim, as 1 remember, in the late “sixties.” Deposited in front of the Literary Institute and duly mounted, it has become as an ‘ interesting his.tprip i-fclifi and P a link with the past.’-