TRADERS OF THE SEA.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 19221, 9 January 1926, Page 10

TRADERS OF THE SEA.

THE ROMANCE OF COMMERCE. MODERN TREASURE SHIPS. RICH CARGOES FROM AFAR. AUCKLAND AND ITS PORT. It is often said that the ago of romance dead, that a spirit of materialism has descended on the modern wojld so that men no • longer dream dreams and see visions. But that is only because romance has donned a new robo, so that mon arid women no longer recognise her. She is everywhere, in the streets, in earth and sky and under the earth, and she still walks in the old sea-ways. Wherever there is sea trade and a port, there is romance. There -is moro romance on Auckland's wharves than would fill a hundred books,< if only it could all be set down by a master-mind. But all tho general public knows about it is- the information contained in the Harbour Board annual report, in tho revonue and trade returns, in tho imposing array of newspaper that convoy so much to those who understand all about these things, and so little to those who do not. Queen's Wharf is one of the most, popular parades of Auckland City -at noon on a fine day. and hero it is that one may find romance, the undying romance of ships and tho sea, that is old as time itself. The big ships lie quietly at the wharves, witli the little grey and white sea-birds placidly preening themselves on ropes and rails. Great iron ships they are, driven by wonderful engines that keep them steadily to the sea-trail in tho face of tho (strongest winds that blow, ships that carrj hundreds of human lives, whose safe voyaging is never questioned, because all the old perils are goue for thosu who go down to the sea m ships. _ Trade Ships from Distant Ports. There are tho trade ships, too, gaunt and weather-beaten, some of them looking as though they could well do with a scraping and a coat of paint. Right across the world they have come, lounging trough sultry tropic seas, hastening from cold North lands, where the icy wind lashes the waves to fury, and the stars of tho North sparkle in fitrango and unfamiliar skies. Laden with merchandise from the ports of the world they have come, so that the. Queen Street promenaders and all tho people of this remote land may enjoy all the comforts and luxuries and conveniences of modern civilisation. All through tho day tho work of unloading goes on., The rattle ox winches and cranes fills the warm summer air; tho great Dales and crates and cases come swmeijßg from ship to shore, and the wharf sheds ar« filled with an army of men wheeling traileys, . loading, motoir-lorrief and waggons that will presently carry all this merchandise to the city warehouses. Arid watching tie stir and activity of it all, looking again at the great iron ships resting so placidly at the long journey's end, the immortal' words come again to mind, words that were written when the,, world was young. "For the .King's .ships, went, to, Tarshish . . . . 'every three years"oncci caime the sTiips of Tarshish, bringing gold and silver, ivory and' apes and peacocks." glories for Solomon, more' riches and -wonders for. one of the most marvellous ages" the world has known! Strange Cargoes and Eich. " Gold and silver, ivory and apes and peacocks what an inspiration the words have been for a thousand poets and writers down the ages! That, truly, was the age of romance,- one thinks, and sighs involuntarily. What so wonderful R3 that old-time • cargo could the ships of to-day bring to Waitemata's shores ? They could bring all these things, and other things more wonderful than ever dreamed by the seers and sages of old. They have brought to Auckland City not O'i'y apes and peacocks, but elephants and eagles, strange, birds and beasts from far over the rim of tho world as known to the ancients; not only gold and silver, but platinum and radium, substances more precious than were to be found in all King Solomon's realm. Bjit nobody has written' a, deathless poem or word-picture ibout these strange, rich cargoes of later days, because the world has become accustomed to wonderful things, and takes tnem all as a matter of course. Glance, for instance, over a list of th 9 queer • things that - Auckland's own customs officers .handle when ships come in from the Orient. Sandalwood and spices and silks they bring, even as tho triremes and quinquiremes of Nineveh brought rich, sweet cargoes to the ports of ancient days, -and. they also bring a thousand-and-ono things neVer known until men sailed across the world and opened up the creal; trad« routes through uncharted seas. ./ Mighty Range of Cargoes. How ancient Nineveh and Tarshish would have stared at some of the things in the ships that come far down the ocean to rest in the Waitemata! Osiers and oil engines, salted anchovies and snuff, parasols and penguin oil, raisins and roadrollers, vermicilli and vaccine, marble and marmalade—what a list one could compile! How pathetically small and commonplace would the Tarshish bills of lading and customs lists look in the present day! From the isles of the Pacific, -from. India, the romantic lands of the Orient. Java, and Borneo, come Auckland's car goes, from Canada, Europe, Chile and Peru. All tho raw materials required for the manufacturing world, all the myriad articles necessary to maintain trade and commerce .and- industry, all the innumerable small accessaries and comforts of civilised life, are to be found in that document that so few ever scan with this- eye of imagination and interest, the New Zealand, customs tariff. And here, lying placidly at Queen's and King's and Prince's Wharves are t,h« modern treasure ships, ordinary, every-day ships, with little grey sea birds preening themselves on ropes and rails, and an army of dusty figures working at clanking winches and cranes and motor engines. From those deep holds what treasures will emerge before the day is done; furs and feathers, motor-cars, mangles, pig-iron, weighing machines, oils, perfumes, tramrails, spices and nuts, carpets, artificial eyes, darning needles—nothing too great, nothing too small!

And yet there are those among the promenaders who would sit sad-eyed .in the sunshine, and say that Romance is dead!