KAPITI ISLAND.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XLI, Issue 1931, 25 January 1919, Page 4

KAPITI ISLAND.

THAT BEAUTIFUL ISLE OF THE

SEA. ROME REMINISCENCES. (By Alex. MeMinu, in the Palmerstun Times.) I was greatly interested in a descriptive aeeount of a recent Palmerston visitor to Kapili Island. What a history might lie written of ; it! What memories and what tragedies! I don't suppose (here is another similar area throughout the whole of New Zealand on which so many tragic deeds have been enacted as what is now a peaceful sanctuary for New Zealand lards! It must he about forty years ago since J last visited (he Island, in company with the late “Tom” Wilson (A typical whaler of the old school) and the late “dim” Arskine, at one time, in charge of the accommodation house at Waikanae. The tormer took me all over the Island, and gave me much of its former history, though, in that respect, the late “Jock" Nicol (another typical old whaler) was superior as a narrator of historic incidents. What a chance 1 had to obtain a full and detailed account.of the happenings of former days. But, ahm! I took but little of the graphic stories told me, which would have proved of absorbing interest in later years. I can remember but little, of the narrative in those by-gone days, and I blame myself for my negligence in not making a fairly full note of the incidents as told in the terse and picturesque language of the whaler. LAST BIG TRIBAL FIGHT. “Scotch Jock," as he wa.s bettor known by the old identities (his proper name being John Nicol), was an eye-witness of the battle of Kukutaiwhaki (I am not sure if the spelling is correct), probably the last great Native inter-tribal conflict which took place on Cook .Strait. He also told me of (lie subsequent orgy that lasted for many days and nights thereafter. He had seen as many as forty whaling ships lying at anchor near Kapili. THOSE ROARING DAYS. Those were roaring dais and nights on Kapili island, drinking (the rum was distributed in kettles those days), lighting, gambling, and all kinds of reckless defiance of law and order. After one whaling season, Jock brought over to the mainland a fairly large camp-oven full of sovereigns, won at gamilling during the period while the whaling ships' men were re-filling and trying out prior to sailing for tin* other side of the world. On another occasion he started for Wellington, along the beach from Waikanae, with .140 big baconers, for which he had traded with the Natives. Tie returned in about two month-, and was unable to say what had become of the swine, as be had nothing whatever to show as (lie linaneial result of his speculation. What times (hey were! Often and often lias Joek been passed in his wliale-hoal, by whaling vessels hove-lo in a howling gale, His only passenger would be his wife, a Native woman, who had with her some live embers in a go-ashurc pot, in a eamp oven, with which to start a fire when they reached Cloudy Bay. There would also he a calabash of water and a live porker for commissariat. Jock would lie at I lie steer oar, most probably his only garment a shirt, and a lugsail of (he whale-boat would be a hoisted red blanket. A terrific sea would be running, but the wind was fair for Cloudy Bay, and what did Jock care for all the winds that blew when he had a seaworthy whale-boat at his command, and he himself at the steer-oar. A PICTURESQUE SANCTUARY. The Palmerston visitor’s description is full of interest in these days. I wonder how many of your readers have seen Kapili from the mainhind on a si ill summer evening, the oeean calm and smooth as the proverbial mill-pond. Verily it is, under such conditions, a beautiful isle of the sea —perfect in its entrancing loveliness. And it presents much to admire, also, when lashed by the waves of a howling gale mi a clear moonlight night, i have seen it under all meteorological conditions, and it is a picture that cannot be obliterated from the memory after many, many years. A STRANGE EXPERIENCE. The late Mr Mitchell, Government Surveyor, had a strange experience in Kapili,-which he related to me after its occurrence. He was engaged on carrying out a trigonometrical of that portion, of the Colony (it was not a “Dominion'’ in those days). He was waiting a chance to pick up other trig stations and enter up the required details. But day.-; might elajise before the weather conditions were favourable. He was alone, reading in his tent at night, when a wild bull made its appearance, and seemed disposed to dispute jiussession. Mr Mitchell had a rifle handy, and a well-directed bullet ended the bovine’s career. The next thing to he done was to get rid of the carcase. He managed the difficult la-k by cutting up the body (there was plenty of rata handy), and a layer of firewood and an alternate layer of bull-beef, ultimately consumed the remains, and the sanitary condition of the locality was not impaired. HOW JOCK WENT TO POT. Yes; I remember well the trypols, near Long Point, if my memory serves me. Into one of them, in which water was boiling, tumbled my friend Scotch Jock. It occurred thus; Jock and another whaler were quarrelling over the

possession of a kettle of rum. They •were close to Hie try-pots. Then bo would yield, and when Jock was just on the brink of (be furiouslyboiling pot, bis adversary let go bis hold of the kettle, and Jock fell in head over heels. For most men it would have meant depth. But Jock was not so easily killed. He was fished out, and the only available remedies were applied, viz., whale oil and Hour, till, as Jock described it Ito me, “he had a scone live inches in 1 (richness all over him.” The Jlcsb and skin healed rajiidly, but the hair on his face and head never grew. He assured me that the jiain of the scalding was a mere I rifle to the intolerable agony of the ilchiness when the healing process was progressing, and the “scone had peeled oil". Had lie been let! to his own devices he would jirobably have lorn his healing llesh until recovery was imjmssible. Bui Hie surgery of the day was invoked. Jock was slripjicd of all clothing. -V woman s round-about was fastened round Ids neck, and kept away from Ids body by a snpjilejaek hoop, and inside two or three Maori hoys scratched gently with albatross feathers as Jock directed, instructing them as to location by herce exjilusions in Maori, lor he was an adept in the use of that language. What a |»ily his story of the olden days, from' USE) later, was never compiled. It would have been o) absorbing interest at the present day. WHAT’S IN A NAME? Tom Wilson had an impediment in Ids sjieech. The Natives used to take him out to give names to places,* lo which were attached sonic imliortanl events. The story goes that Tom was taken out one line morning lo a|)|)ropriatoly fix the nomenclature of a site for a jirojiosed church. Tom was in a had humour Unit morning. Probably he had had too much rum the jircvimis day. Alter hazarding sundry mimes, of which the attendant Natives did not signify their apjiroval, in a hurst ol ■ mget and imjialieuce he finally blurted mil what ajqieaml to those interested as “Pajiarawliino," which was pronounced a salislactory appellation, and some years ago I noticed the name on an old survey maj). The expression which he really did make use of can he guessed bv those versed in the vernacular of those early days. The church was built and allowed lo tall into decav, in the course of years, and I remember seeing the roof of the ])oreh, which Tom W ilson used as on imjirovised jiigsly! THE ADJACENT ISLANDS. The adjacent smaller islands had each a history of its own, Iml 1 room that 1 cannot recall the circumstances attaching thereto. Due was occupied by a small tribe. The Maupoko—the remnant of the tribe ilial evaded the murderous raids by i’e Raujiaraha —used sometimes (<> ,-ive me some details of what, transpired after a battle, or a night raid, but they were of’sucli a nature that forbid their publication. 1 remember Wi Parata, a lull, line-looking half-caste, who was killed by falling from his horse. He iiad considerable inllucncc among the Natives. One feature about Kapiti I have not forgotten. That is the Jleas! They were present in myriads, and also sandllies, but no mosquitoes, though on the mainland they swarmed to the water's edge. DAYS THAT ARE DEAD. The Island should have a series of chapters all to itself. But where are the historians? Coolcs, Ranslicld, Jack Webber, Bill Jenkins, old Pinto, Scutch Jock, Hector McDonald, Tom Wilson, and the others? All gone! They were a rough and ready lot, but in an emergency every man could lie relied on. Their day was long before that of tiring the bomb with lance attached, but when the whale was “fast” and tearing through the water, at the rale of an cxjiress train on shore, the peril was dire, and each man knew it. I would like to revisit Kajiili Island once more, and return to the r-jmls where, according to my informants, tragedies were enacted in the days of long ago. Jl is a mailer for congratulation Hint after its history of warfare and dreadful deeds, Kajiiti is now a peaceful sanctuary for native birds. What a contrast lo the day> of old! Anyone spending a brief holiday there, and surveying; it under ever varying climatic and meteorological conditions, must agree wilh mo that under each and all it is verily a beautiful Isle of the Sea.