KAPITI ISLAND.

Otaki Mail, 5 February 1919, Page 4

KAPITI ISLAND.

THAT BEAUTIFUL ISLE OF THE ' • SEA. | SOME REMINISCENCES. j ‘ (By ALEX. McMINN.) ' I was greatly interested in a descriptive account of a recent Palmerston visitor to Kapiti Island. What; a his-, torv might be written of it! What memories'and. what tragedies! I don’t suppose there 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 Now Zealand birds! It : must* be about forty years ago since I last visited the -island, in company with the late “Tom” Wilson (a typical whaler of the old school) and the late “Jim” Ershine, at one time in charge of the accommodation house at VVaihanae. The former took me all over the island, and gave me much ol its former history, though, in that respect, the late “Jock” Nicol (another typical old whaler) -was suporior as a narrator of historic incidents. What a chance I had to. obtain a full and dc- , tailed account of the happenings of formor days. But, alas! I took but little of the graphic stories told me, which would liavo proved of absorbing interest in later years. I can remember but little of the narrative in those bygone days, and I bluuic 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 ho was better) known by the old identities (his proper j name being John Nicol), was an eyewitness of the battle of KukutaiwhaM (I am not sure if the-spelling is csr;j rect), probably tho last great Native inter-tribal conflict which took place on ; Cook Strait. He also told me of tho-’ subsequent, orgy .that lasted for many-., days and nights thereafter. He seen us many as forty whaling sbipsj lying at anchor near Kapiti.

Those Roaring Says. Those were roaring days and nights on Kapiti Island, drinking (the rum__ was distributed in kettles those days),, fighting, gambling, and all .kinds of/ reckless defiance of law and order. After one whaling season, Jock brought, over to the mainland a large earnp-j oven full of sovereigns, won at gambling during the period while the whaling ships’ men were refitting and’ Irving-out prior to sailing for the other side of the world. On another occasion ho started for Wellington,; aloug the beach from Wuikanae, with 140 big baconors, for which he hadtraded with the Natives. He returned! in about two months, and was unable, to say what had beconio of the swine, as he had nothing whatever to show as the financial result of his speculation: What times they were! J

Often and often has Jock been) passed in his whaleboat, by whaling) vessels hove-to in a howling gale. HisS only passenger would bo his wife,' a) Native woman, who had with her some j live embers in a go-ashorc pot, in a* camp oven with which to start a lire j when they reached Cloudy Bay. There , would also bo a calabash of water and a live porher for commissariat. Jock | would be at the steer oar, most pro- : babl.v his only garment a shirt, and a lug-sail of the whaleboat would be a.| hoisted red blanket, A terrific sea j would bo running, but .the wind fair for Cloudy Bay, and what did JoelKi case for all the winds that blew he had a seaworthy whaleboat at hisj command and he himself at the stc-eivj oar? A Picturesque Sanctuary. j Tho Palmerston visitor’s description)! is full of interest in these days. I wonji der how many of your readers havedj seen Kapiti from the mainland on still summer evening, tho ocean calm) and smooth as the proverbial mill-) pond? Verily it is, under such condi-'S tions, a beautiful isle of the sea—peA 1 feet in its entrancing loveliness. And) it presents much to admire, also, lashed by the waves of a howling gall) on a clear, moonlight night. I hatf*> seen it under all meteorological condi-V tions, and it is a piciuro that cannot., be obliterated from the memory afterf many, many years. A Strange Experience.

The lato Mr Mitchell, Government surveyor, had a strange experience in Kapiti, 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 far days). Ho was waiting a chance to pick up other) trig stations and enter up the required details. But days might elapse before the weather. conditions were favourable. He was alone, reading in hrstent at night, when a wild bull made its appearance and seemed disposed to dispute possession. Mr Mitchell had a rifle handy, and a well-directed bullet ended the bovine’s career. The next; thing to be done was to get rid of the cafehse. Ho managed the difficult task 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 try-pots, 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 an; other whaler were quarrelling over the possession of a kettle of rcm. They ’ were close to the try-pots. Then he would yield, and when Jock was just on the brink of the furiously boiling jot, his adversary let go his hold of tho kettle and Jock fell ia head over Ijoels, Pot laasismea it "would have meant death. But Jock was not so easily- JtSl’ea. ..He- was fished our, and the only available remedies were sp- ' plied; viz., whale oil and flouTj till; as

Joelr described it to me, “ho had a scone five inches in thickness all ovd? him.” The flesh and skin, healed i rapidly, but, the hair on. his face and head never grew. Ho assured me that the pain of tho scalding was a .mere trifle to the intolerable agony of the; itcliincss when the Healing process was grogressing, and-'the .“scone” had -peeled off. Had he.been left to liis own devices lie would probably have torn his healing flesh until recovery was ’impossible. But the surgery of the day was invoked. Jock was stripped of all clothing. A woman’s roundabout was fastened round his neck, and kept away from his body by a supplejack hoop, and inside two or three Maori boys scratched gently with albatross feathers as Jock directed, instructing them as to location by tierce explosions in Maori, for ho was , an adept in the use of that language. What a pity his story of the olden days, from 1830 later, was never compiled. It would have been of absorbing interest at the present day.

What’s in a Name? Tom Wilson had an impediment in his speech. Tho Natives used to take him out to give names to places, to which Were attached "some important events. Tho story goes that Tom was taken out one fine morning to appropriately fix the nomenclature of a site lor a proposed church. Tom was in a bad humour that morning. Probably io had too much rum the .previous day. After.hazarding sundry names of which the attendant Natives did not signify their approval, in a burst of anger and impatience, lie finally blurted out what .appeared to those interested as “Pakittnwhuino,” which was pronounced- a satisfactory appellation, and some years ago I noticed the name on an old survey map. The expression which he .really did make use of, can be guessed by those versed: in the vernacular of those eariy days. The church was built and allowed to fall into decay, in the course of years, and I remember seeing the roof of the porch, which Tom Wilson used ns an improvised .pig-styo!

The Adjacent Islands. " The adjacent smaller islands hail each a history of its own, but I regret that I cannot recall the circumstances attaching thereto. One was occupied by a small tribe. The Muaupoko—the remnant of the tribe that evaded flie murderous raids by To Rauparaha—»«ed sometimes to give me some details of what transpired after a battle, or a night raid, but they were of such a nature that forbid their publication.

! I remember Wi Parata, a tall, finelooking half-caste, who was killed by a Vail from his horse. He had eonsidorrfible influence among the Natives. One feature about Kapiti I have not . forgotten. That is tho fleas! They were present iu myriads, and also sand- | Hies, but no mosquitoes, though on the | mainland they swarmed to the water’s edge. ) Days That Are Dead. A The island should have a scries of chapters all to itself. But where are the historians ’ Cootcs, Ransfield, Jack Webber, Bill Jenkins, old Pluto. Scotch 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 7that of filing the bomb with lance utItached, but when the whale was wj'ast” and tearing through the water, 'lt the rate of an express train on .Shore, the peril was dire and c-ach man (knew it. I would like to revisit Kapiti Island once more, and return to the spots where, according to my informants, tragedies were enacted in the days of long ago. It is a matter for congratulation that after its history of warfare and dreadful deeds, Kapiti is now a peaceful sanctuary for Native birds. What a contrast to the 'days of old!' Anyono spending a brief holiday there, I and surveying it tinder every varying [ climatic and meteorological conditions, must agree.-with me that under each [and all it is verily'a beautiful Isle of the Sea!—Palmerston “Times.”