From a Pioneer’s Notebook

Northland Age, Volume 4, Issue 16, 18 January 1935, Page 3

From a Pioneer’s Notebook

Reminiscences of a Herekino Settler [By W. R. Keay] ’Tis pleasant sure to see one’s name in print, A book’s a book altho’ there’s nothing in’t. Byron. * * * * FROM SCOTLAND TO NEW ZEALAND At the respective ages of 15 and 17 years, I with my brother, left Glasgow by the night train to London on our way by an emigrant ship to New Zealand. Probably a pair of as raw youths as ever left the banks and braes of bonnie Scotland to better their fortunes across the deep seas. Arrived the following morning, and after placing our luggage in a private cabin at the bow of the good ship Huntress, then lying in the East India docks, we proceeded to tour the city under the guidance of people to whom we had letters of introduction. Garrotting was prevalent in the city, and citizens carried walking sticks in which thin rapier blades were inserted for defence. We left the docks on the Ist and Gravesend on the 11th of December, 1862, and arrived at Lyttelton on the 2nd May, 1863. Some 300 emigrants wore on the ship. A fearful storm drove the ship back to Dungeness the night after sailing. Scores of ships were weather-bound there. It was a terrifying experience for some of the passengers, and some wanted to be put back on the land. But the ship resumed the voyage with a fair wind, and after a few days of fine weather the good humour and pleasing anticipation or all were restored. Crossing the Bay of Biscay, the great height of the waves, and the wide valley-like spaces between were a source of much wonder. The wind continued favourable to near the Equator, but we were becalmed there nearly three weeks. The intensity of the heat was a very uncomfortable experience. The first mate was popular, but the captain and some of the other officers were not. That was the origin of a quarrel with menacing possibilities between the officers and the crew, and the young men, who resolutely refused to accept the nauseous favours of “Neptune” and his satellites. The ’tween deck was crowded with the men, one of whom was grabbed by the sailors, and a fierce struggle ensued, the body and legs of the young fellow being cruelly handled until his comrades completely overpowered their opponents. Many of the combatants were also bruised and their clothes torn. Seeing the dangerous temper of the

men, the tactless captain, instead of allowing the dispute to cease, ordered the men down to their quarters, saying that as they would not join in the “sport,” i.e. allow themselves to be plunged over head into a vilesmelling liquid, and then “shaved” with a formidable bar of iron with jagged edges, he would not allow them to see others doing so. But the men refused to obey. And, as the infuriated captain trained a carronade on them, threatening to blow them to Hades, a few of the men brought up firearms and ammunition out of their chests, and defied the captain, virtually having possession of the ship, until the first mate, who previously had not interfered, spoke in a kindly but firmly determined manner to the men, who then put away their weapons, but remained to see the “Neptune” farce. The boats had to be lowered several times to tow the ship into “clean water.” All hands rejoiced when the breeze came and the ship began to slip through the water. The weather became squally, and rain was collected in sails to fill the empty casks in which the old water had a nauseous taste ; but that did not prevent us from swallowing all we could get. Some days after sailing a terrific cyclone was encountered. The good ship was hove to, and many waves swept over the decks, smashing parts of the cooking galley, and some of the boats. The passengers were all confined in their quarters, but I escaped and saw the awful sea, white with foam. After the furious wind ceased, the sea became quite calm, and a wonderful and appalling spectacle ensued. The sea was perfectly smooth, dark blue, and an oily surface in appearance, no undulations. Everywhere the water rising vertically in huge conical heaps, then falling to their base. The timbers of the ship creaking dismally and leaking. She reared almost vertically, bow or stern up or down ; also rolling sideways and all ways in a most alarming manner. Only that her structure and the material were excellent, she must have foundered. That was the opinion of officers and crew. The foremast had almost to be renewed. The same remarkable kind of sea had not been seen by anyone on board. With a strong, fair wind the turbulent waters quickly assumed their natural form, and rapid progress was made to the south. I always tried to stay on the forecastle—sometimes in a lifeboat shipped for use at the Timaru roadstead. One night I had been listening to an old sailor named “Old Bill,” whose language was free and foul. He was

“on watch” at the bow and sleeping when I rose to go to my bunk. Looking ahead, to my amazement I saw a semi-circular bay with many lights, and land showing distinctly. Instantly I woke Old Bill, who, after seeing the land, ran aft, and in quick time the stern of the ship was facing where the bow had been. We never found out where we then were. It was an extremely narrow escape from disaster. I may mention that Bill threatened to throw me into the sea if I told anyone. Saw the spoutings of many whales ; also many birds, including the albatross gliding in the air with scarcely any motion of the wings, the pretty little cape pigeons, and stormy petrels, etc. Several flying fish came on board, and we caught dolphins and admired the brilliantly coloured tints of their skin as they were expiring. The pretty “nautilus” were objects of much admiration as they gracefully floated past. But generally the voyage was becoming monotonous when crossing the Southern ocean—the time being only varied by some singing and dancing. An English concertina was the only musical instrument. There was a pugilistic encounter with bare fists between a little and big man fought in the good old English way by allowing the weakest to have a sporting chance. The light ended in a draw. Much excitement was caused by a fierce combat to a finish between the butcher and second mate, the latter being much disliked by the passengers. Both were about equal in size and strength. The mate was the aggressor, and was badly beaten. With few exceptions, the emigrants were a superior class, agreeing well. There was much discontent, though, about the

way the victuals were cooked. The head cook would persist in boiling the salt meat, and also the duffs, in a mixture of sea and stinking “fresh” water. Getting no redress from the officers, the single men, in a body, approached the cook —a sour, badtempered individual—about the grievance, and the dispute culminated in a fray in which the cook gave one of the men a serious gash near the eye with his long fork, used for pulling meat, etc., out of the boilers. He was instantly seized and plunged head down into a large cask containing slimy slush, and his exit from the greasy depths was greeted with much laughter. A new cook was appointed. When we arrived off the Timaru roadstead to land the lifeboat and agricultural machinery, a furious gale prevented us from approaching, the roadstead, which, at that time and many years thereafter, was worked by surf boats. Our ship disappearing in a fierce squall, prayers were offered in the churches for our safety.

But we reappeared at Lyttelton heads and the anchor was finally lowered inside the harbour. Seeing the snow on the towering peaks of the Southern Alps, there were fears of having been deceived by the glowing accounts about New Zealand, described in a book as “A land of pure delight, where peaches grow on trees, and roasted pigs come crying out, Oh, eat me if you please.”