THE LOST TRIBE

Manawatu Times, Volume LIV, Issue 6954, 6 July 1929, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE LOST TRIBE

Chapter of Ancient Goldfields History

PROSPECTORS THAT LIVED BEYOND MURCHISON

The story .of the Lost Tribe has had many versions and variations in different parts of the world, but the following 10 years old account, published in Murchison, following a visit of the then Premier (Mr. Seddon),, to the district which was rlien even more isolated than to-day, makes interesting reading. \ Here is the true story of the Lost Tribe,

Mr. Seddon has recently paid a visit to the Central Bullcr district, and tlie journey undertaken by him has led some of our contemporaries to a belief that the Premier has been ‘'rubbing skirts” with the people of the “Lost Tribe.” Indeed, one journal Is so sure of its ground that it says:— “The visit of Mr. Seddon to the ‘Lost Tribe’ on the West Coast of the South Island recalls some interesting facts in connection with these people. In the early days a body of miners together with their wives and children retired to the hills at the back of Lyell and for years had no connection with the outside world, an occasional visit to the Lyell or Murchison districts being made only when stores were required. The children grew up uneducated and they, with their parents, received the appellation of the ‘Lost Tribe.’ ” As it happens, these “interesting facts” are absolutely incorrect. Tho territory of the Tribe was nowhere near the Lyell. The Tribe was located fully 60 miles from the Lyell, and practically 28 miles fom Murchison, and there wore certainly no wives to share the labours and solitude of the miners, or children to grow up wild and uneducated. However, mistakes are quite pardonable in connection with this mythical people. In point of fact the real Lost Tribe has long since become Practically Extinct although a community of people living on the upper reaches of the Matakitaki river are at the present time distinguished by the name. But in a strict sense they have no more right to the title than the other inhabitants of the Bullcr. Indeed, tho outside world looks upon the isolated, but most beautiful portion of New Zealand, as forming tho territory of tho tribe. In the district itself, however, amongst the old hands, the people of Upper Matakitaki arc given in general usage the titlo of Lost Tribcrs, though they are not the descendants of the original tribe and have only become possessed of the title by the development of the locality and tho extinction of the old tribe. There is no record of tho men who actually formed the original Lost Tribe, for tlie founding of the camp is shrouded in that obscurity and wealth of manufactured history which is usually attached to the “early days” of a gold field. Moreover, men in those days were in almost every case known by some nick-name, such as Dick the Lion, Tommy the Itobin, Tali', Yorkio, Jimmy tho Eamblor, Blue Duck, Rooster, Tlie Blowfly, etc., and real names were either not known or speedily forgotten. But it is definitely known that the tribe was composed of less than a score of

goldfield the hand of fortune is for ever beckoning onward. Far away in the distant ranges along the bed of some mountain torrent there is always an Eldorado waiting ready with its store of golden treasure for the man who can find it. Pushing onward towards richer fields, the diggers prospected their way up the Glcnroy river and, as wo stated earlier, loss than a score of these men pitched their camp on an alluvial flat some sis or seven miles up the Glcnroy river and settled down to work. These men were cut off entirely from the rest of their fellowbeings. At the township of Murchison, in those days, civilisation was primitive enough; upper Matakitaki afforded a sort of boundary to any vestige of human existence, but tho camp of the Glenroy diggers had no placo on the map. The diggers only had intercourse with other miners when they visitod the pub-stoic for tucker, and this solitary life they led soon earned for thorn the name of tho “Lost Tribe.” How long tho Tribe enjoyed its solitude or cxclusivo right to tho titlo wo cannot say—it would be impossible to fix a date—but gradually the diggings spread out, and tho Glcnroy Junction, the Tribe’s territory, Horso Terrace and Upper Matakitaki became merged, and by outsiders the title of “Lost Tribe” began to be applied to the larger community. Here, strictly speaking, the history of tho roal “Lost Tribe” ends, but it was in the second era, with extended territory and added dignity that the new or assimilating tribe roso to the height of its glory and renown. In time tho old tribe lost its identity, and tho seat of government was removed to the pub-store (which had become enlarged into a very respectable-looking place), and tho proprietor thereof was duly elected King. The Keign of King Tom I. was marked by wild revelry, bad book debts and worse whisky. England’s “Merry Monarch” was but a circum-

Hardy, Weather-beaten Miners who many, many years ago pitched camp on a little alluvial flat some six or seven miles up the Glcnroy river, a tributary steam of the Matakitaki, junctioning about 20 miles from Murchison —which township is situated at the junction of the Bullcr and Matakitaki rivers. In the days before the founding of tho tribe roads were un-heard-of luxuries, tho minors striking out for their historic camp even in advance of tho pack track. Gold was found up the Matakitaki river, aiul setting his face, towards the fortune which awaited him amidst the solitudes of tho might rock-capped mountains, deep gullies and roaring torrents of the interior, tho hardy digger fought his way along tho course of the river. Over hills, round precipices, across rivers and creeks, and through tho dense forest tho miners fought their wav, cutting a track with their slashers. * As each digger made liis way up the blazed track tho underscrub was cut hero and there, and in time labour improved tho track sufficiently for the pack-horse—that patient suffering friend of tho pioneer—to get through. Before tho advent of the pack-horse, however, tho digger’s sturdy back provided tho sole means of transit for provisions, tools, etc. But what did a 10, 15 or 20-mile tramp through tho dripping bush with a “50” of flour, a quarter of stale bacon, tea, sugar, and a well-stowed insido cargo of chain lightning” matter iu those days? Gold was plentiful. With the cradle or dish the digger could always “knock out” his ounce or two a day, and with tho “groat patch” always beckoning onward like a Will-o’-the-wisp, what did labour, deprivation and suffering matter? In comparison with the golden prospects of the future, pain and labour were nothing! The * ik back became strong and the faint heart was cheered and filled with sanguine expectation. In time many diggers congregated in Upper Matakitahi. On the banks of the river the flat shingle beds, rock pockets and eddies were reaped of their golden harvest, and the solitudes of the deep gullies of the. surrounding mountains were broken by the ring of the pick mid the rattle of the cradle. The “nub-store” followed, and tho diggers got a few more very primitive articles of civilisation, coupled with its principal curse. It was at this juncture that the men of the “Lost Tribe” set Off for New Territory. Not that there was any desire on their part to flee from the baneful influences of the pub-store, or objection to the semblance of civilisation shed , from its canvas windows. But on tha J

stance compared with King Tom. The glory of his court spread far and wide, and no wandering prospector was ever driven from the palace gates with an empty stomach or clear head. King Tom’s throne -was an empty beer barrel, his sceptre a pick-handle, and the fearlessness and dexterity with which he wielded this badge of office quickly quelled all spirit of rebellion in his turbulent subjects. However, space forbids that vc should refer at great length to the King, for the dramatic and humorous incidents of this man’s career would fill a volume; but the history of tho Tribe is incomplete, nay, impossible, without a brief outline of tho chief. In private life Tom was known as Thomas May, a relative of the Mays of wax vesta fame in London. The King was expected to come in for great wealth some day, but in Into years, when his kingdom was impoverished, he only received a very . inall sum, practically cut off with a shilling. But in las palmy days King Tom thought little and cared less for prospective fortunes from the Old Country. He handled more gold than many a banker, and made a profit on his whisky which would make a latterday publican weep for joy. In the course of time King Tom’s eook-groona-ekambormaid - bodyguard , trainbearerbuteker was elevated to tho purple and ennobled with the title of His Eoyal Highness Brandy Mac. At times, also, his Majesty was moved to acts of graciousness, and conferred the honour of knighthood on good customers, hard drinkers or distinguished pugilists. Tho ceremony was conducted with the greatest possible solemnity. Tho courtiers stood round with uncovered heads while the King stalked with dignity from behind the bar countor, and the candidate knelt at his feet. In lieu of a swoTd was tho pick handle, and os tho weight of the blow across the bended shoulders depended greatly upon tho quantity of whisky under the royal waist-coat, the honoured digger felt somo nervousness. But heavy or light tho pick handle was laid across the shoulders, and his Majesty would exclaim, with inspiring dignity: “Bise Sir , I dub thee Knight.”

Tho knight, after. calling down blessings on his.. Majesty’s august head, aroso and tho lirng retired behind the counttr'to serve out drinks all round at tho expense of tho man who had won his spurs. Thus, as years rolled on, the King gathered round him an aristocratic'following who were indebted to him for much graciousness, whisky and tucker. While times were good King Tom caroused with his courtiers and delinquent debtors had no qualms of conscience or-necessity to go without meat or drink. For days on end the careless diggers gave themselves up to joyous revelry at tho Court. Pack horse races were held on. Horse Terraco (a splendid tussock clearing at tho foot of wild- precipitous hills which towered their heads almost to tho clouds), sports were kohl amidst tho logs and stumps in front of the palaco, and celebrations were held at every possible opportunity. But, gradually, gold became scarcer; the diggers left for other fields and the Chinamen (whose advent may be taken as an indication of waning prosperity on any gold field) made their appearance. The resources of the

realm diminished somewhat, but the royal coffers still held treasure, and with tho Celestial came fresh honours for the King. His shrewdness in dealing with the Chows speedily earned him tho titlo of King of the Lost Tribe and Bmperor of the Chinese. Tho decline had set in, however, the improvement in the roads brought com petition and additional civilisation; claims duffered out; the golden harvest had been reaped, and only the gleaners remained. Soon his Majesty anil H.E.H. Brandy Mac were compelled to remain drunk to keep away the blues. Things went from bad to worse; the palace was destroyed by fire, and although a new one was erected by the sacrifice of the Crown jewels, the old King had soon to abdicate. Bobbed of his glory, ho retired to the seclusion of a. ono-roomed villa, where ho sold stores and drank whisky with bold Brandy Mac, “first made and latest left of all tho knights.” In 1901.0 r 1902 the old man was drowned while crossing the river near tho site of his old palace, and Brandy Mac went to end his days in the old men’s home. He may have made thousands upon thousands of pounds, but drink and thriftloss revelry lost him all. Perhaps he did not care to keep it, for there was a 'story of another life. He was a unique specimen of humanity, and occasionally there was a momentary gleam which led one to think “This man was once an English gentleman.” King Tom IL now reigns over the Tribe. The present monarch is a red-headed Irishman rejoieing in the name of O'Bourke. But alas, tho glory of the realm has departed. A busy Queen and maids of honour keop the palace clean; wholesome meals and good beds are provided for the traveller. The old diggers have nearly all passed away to the Great Beyond. A new generation has sprung up to replace tho old, but they have neither the money nor the inclination to rejuvenate the Court with' its ancient pristine gloTy.