NORTHWARD BOUND.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 21020, 8 May 1930, Page 7

NORTHWARD BOUND.

COASTWISE VOYAGE. IMPRESSIONS BY THE WAY.

' By P. Owen W,

To the uninitiated a trip along the coast is a novel experience, but there is nothing of a novel nature connected with such a jaunt to the seasoned traThere 'are compensations, however, in any coastal trip, and even menwhose veiy presence has a distinct tang of the sea and ships find something new and out of the ordinary to engage their attention. There are men now living ; in every part of the Dominion who have . invaded many ports in their time on the heaving decks of small coasters, both steam and sail. I am no exception to this rule. Having been associated with ships and the men who control the destinies of shipping for over 30 years, it has been my good fortune to make many voyages in ships, large and small, to all the principal and also to most of the smaller porta scattered around the coast of New Zealand. My wanderings have led me from Auckland to Paterson’s Inlet (Stewart Island),- my feet thudding over the docks of every port situated between the Waitemata and the far south. To vary the programme, I have drifted about on the West Coast of both islands, visiting practically every port from the sand bars of Hokianga and Kaipara and the port of Manukau to Waikato Heads, Waitara, New Plymouth, Patea, Wanganui, Foxtou, Greymouth, and Westport, and also to the sand'bars of Hokitika. Then, again to vary the programme, I have made the passage from the Waitemata to Whaugarei, Russell, and Whangamumu on the heaving deck of a cranky timber or shingle scow. These trips were in a sense a nightmare. There was always' the eternal squeaking of the rigging blocks when the sails were being hdisted or lowered, and there was a deluge of green seas smashing over the bluff bows during the winter season. Such trips on a heavily-laden, unwieldy scow were anything but pleasant, but in the height 'of a hot summer any young fellow in the best of condition and full of vigour would not fail to enjoy them as he inhaled the fresh 'airland feasted his eyes on the glorious beauty of the dork green waters, the numerous islands which abound along the northern coast, and the great cliffs .which dot the landscape. And so many ships of various sizes, and many seafaring men of various temperaments, have crossed >iny path. Most of these men—skippers, mates, engineers, and seamen—have all proved worthy friends and jolly pals. Some I have known since boyhood days, and to all these I owe a debt of gratitude, because they have always shown that close friendship and courtesy which is a recognised tradition of the, British seaman. And it was through the courtesy of one of my captain friends that I recently made a coastal voyage in a vessel which trades between northern ports and Dunedin. The captain was ashore when I boarded the ship at Lyttelton. The first mate greeted me and toos; possession of my light luggage. He intimate'd that I had commenced my journey in a somewhat. happy-go-lucky manner. “ Why? ” I asked. “The skipper expected you to join the ship at a port further south. Wo waited for some time, and when you did not turn up we figured that something had gone amiss with your arrangements.” 1 tendered what I thought to be a legitimate excuse, and the first mate let it go at that. There was a tedious delay at Lyttelton. This was brought about through cargo being held up in trucks at tne railway yards. The freight was brought alongside at spasmodic intervals; A truck containing a few sacks of wheat was responsible for an unnecessary delay. Some time was spent by the stevedore in locating the truck. It was eventually found, shunted alongside, and the wheat stowed on board. The skipper fumed at the delay. ' ■' The lines were cast off at a time when the daily toilers were sitting down to the evening meaL The little ship was brought round the end of the wharf with the aid of her stem line, and under leaden skies and a. light drizzle she passed through the moles and out to sea. “ North by east, quarter north,” said the skipper to the helmsman. “ North by east, quarter north,” promptly answered the helmsman, thereby intimating that he had heard the order correctly. “ Come down and get some grub,” said tbt skipper, as he beckoned me away from the position I occupied at the bridge dodger. I followed the skipper below, and joined the ship’s officers at the mess table. “The grub id not. up.to the mark to night,” said the chief engineer, “ but we will hope for better things in the near future.” I worried through a tough piece of steak and then returned ,to the bridge. The sky had cleared and the myriad lights °f. Sumner and New Brighton burned brightly in an almost unbroken line away to the north. Under a starlit sky the steamer plodded her way north with just a slight heaving of her bows. The sea, was smooth, and the ship logged a good 10 knots through out the night. 1 1 was carl y astir the next morning, and the first sight that greeted my eyes at sunrise was the noble peaks of tlu Kaikouras. Steaming within a mile or two of the coastline, the ship ran into a lazy swe.i from the north-west when approaching Cook Strait. It was here i that shoals of porpoises made their appearance, and these playful creatures ] leaped and gamboled as they followed the steamer for several miles. Just befotv the call came for breakfast Cape Campusl* lighthouse was sighted. It was soon abeam, and an hour or so later the ship was steaming towards the mist-covered barren hills which mark the entrance to Wellington Harbour. The swell increased and the ship now developed a decided “ kick,” as well as a perpetual heaving j of bow and stern. Two or three hours 1 after passing Cape Campbell we steamed ■ past PencniTow light, and made fast to ' No. 1 south, Queen’s wharf, at 11.15 a.m | A hurried visit to several friends scattered around Wellington, and then we were again steaming out of the harbour two or three hours after sunset. The thousands of street, theatre and dwelling lights were brilliant in the clear night. I occupied my old position at the bridge dodger, and tried to memorise the numerous orders given by the skipper while the ship was being piloted through the dark waters to Cook Strait. We pass the entrance to Evan’s Bay, and then the course is changed. “South by west, half south.’ Keep that blinker in line.” The helmsman repeats the skipper’s order, and the blinker, a white flashing uglit on a uold headland near the marine suburb of Seatouu) is soon abeam. Auother change in the course is then made North by west, half west, Charlie.” says the skipper, and again the helmsman repeats the order. “ Steer for the lower white light at Pencarrow,” adds the skipper. In another half-hour the ship is steaming through the entrance. The white combers break with a slight continuous roar on the jagged rocks of the treacherous Barrett’s Reef about' 200 yards to starboard. With a steady finger the skipper traces the line of the reef for my benefit, and with the aid of night glasses I follow his tracing the reef and white foam *of the breaking combers looking dangerously close. °

Giving the outer end of the reef a wide berth, the ship again heaves and rolle to the westerly swell. A course is now set for the run to Kapiti Island, on tha way to Wanganui. The swell increases as the ship steams along through tha strait, and it is difficult for anyone on board, even members of the crew, to keep from being pitched from one side to the other. It is a case of “ turning iu ” early, and so all through that night I was rocked backwards and forwards in my narrow bunk. The swell was very heavy at sunrise the next morning. About 9 a.m. the distant shore winding away to the north-east was . discerned through a slight haze. Then the signal station at the entrance to the Wanganui River and a water tower perched on the heights near Wanganui were sighted. A dark object is seen lying on the water some miles directly ahead. Viewed through the glasses, the object is seen to be a tramp steamer at anchor in the roadstead, her hull rising and falling with the swell. She is waiting for flood tide before being piloted across the bar to a berth at the Castlecliff wharf. The skipper asks the first mate for the draught of our ship. The mate reports the draught to be 9ft Cin aft. The next minute a string of flags flutters in the breeze, notifying the signal station of the ship’s draught. All eyes are then focussed on the signal yard-arm ashore. It is still three hours l from flood tide, and there is a possibility that the ship will have to wait outside for some time. Having read the flag signal, the maa who uses his judgment for the safety of all vessels entering the river hoists four black cones on the yard-arm. This is the cue for the skipper to get busy, as the signal ashore reads: “Take the bar.” The chief engineer makes his appearance on the bridge, and the skipper issues the order to him: “ Give her all the steam you can, ae we are going right in.” Approaching the bar the swell is not quite so noticeable. The chief engineer is “ giving her all the steam ” as the vessel seems to rush along at a good 10 J knots. There is a swirl of white foam as tho ship takes the bar, and the next minute jshe is gliding past the moles which mark the entrance to the river. Then past the groin which has been the bugbear of every skipper trading to the port, the ship now moving along without a tremor in the smooth water of the river. It is now a question of good seamanship and alertness on the part of the skipper, as the very slightest deviation from the channel course will .result in the vessel going aground. skipper takes the wheel', so he alone will be responsible if anything goes amiss. “ A bad shoal at that bend,’’ says the skipper, indicating the narrow. sheet of mud-colonred water .ahead just where the I channel straightens out for the final mile I run to the wharf. “ Don’t be surprised if we go aground," added the skipper. “It is a bad shoal, and the ship sometimes sticks to the . bottom for an hour or two.” This remark was not reassuring or cheerful, but I relied on the chief engineer and was hopeful We approached the shoaL The skippe* grinned when he looked my way. I was positive that he was. not sanguine of there being sufficient depth of water to prevent a stranding. Bat he was fooled this Lime. With a noticeable grinding noise the vessel worked her way over the shoal, the crunching of the keel on .the gravel being heard quite distinctly on the bridge. One more crunch and the ship was over the shoal. She was headed for the top berth at the traffic bridge, and an hour before mid-day I was given an opportunity to spend the rest of the day enjoying the sights of Wanganui and renewing old acquaintances. It was a glorious summer’s day, and the city looked clean and attractive in the bright sunshine. “ We sail at midnight,” said the skipper early that evening. He added that the late sailing was necessary owing to the fact that it would not be flood tide nntil well past midnight. ! “ Suits me," was my answer. The skipper, chief and second engineers, and I “ spruced up ” and spent a very pleasant evening ashore. Aboard again several hours later, the lines were let go just before midnight. The ship swung, round on the incoming tide, and in the stillness of the very early morning she nosed her way down ‘he river. The city was almost in totai darkness, and the dark green water glistened under the channel lights as w» glided past. The bar was fairly smooth. The ship was dear of the river an hour or so after midnight. The run back to Wellington was somewhat similar to the run north, with the ‘exception that the swell was very severe in Cook Strait. Passing the Karori Rock light the vessel steamed through a strong tide rip, and she rolled and heaved heavily. Cook Strait was a pleasant sight that morning. The visibility was splendid, and a dear view was obtained of the entrance to Queen Charlotte and other sounds, and the Brothers lighthouse. Past Barrett’s Reef we steamed, then again up Wellington Harbour to a berth at the Pipitca wharf, where my all too short bnt most pleasant coastal trip came to an end.