THE OLD WHALING STATION ON TAIERI ISLAND.

Otago Witness, Issue 2561, 15 April 1903, Page 29

THE OLD WHALING STATION ON TAIERI ISLAND.

THE LAST OF THE OLD WHALERS.

(By F. A. Joseph.)

There died at Henley the r.they day (March 27, 1903), at the age of 90 years, (William Palmer, the last of the hardy race of early whalers whose prowess helped to make the name of New Zealand famous long ago, and whose name is connected with the whaling station on Taieri Island. At the mouth of the Taieri River, its xock-bound eastern side breasting the deep swell of the Pacific, stands a picturesque aelet, around which a halo of romance clings ; grim sentinel guarding the portals of the lovely river, co dear to the memory of the iast representatives of the once powerful Ngatimamoe tribe who dwelt by its tide. The island of Moturata stand 3, like Samson, shorn of ita glory. As the Ngatimamoe knew it, . the island was forest-clad from shore to summit in the lovely southern rata, which, about Christmasia.de, puts forth its bright scarlet blossoms, » blaze of brilJi&nt colour set amid deep . emerald. , Now the islet, jsome half-mile long, and about a quarter of a mile wide, rises up bare and. brown to a height of 300 ft. The- noble rata forest is ac extinct as the race of hardy .whalers who had their homes .upon it early in the past century, 1 and stunted bracken fern and tussock grass have taken the place of the forest. Not even a stump remains to show that a tree ever took root on this storm-swept isle. Of the whaling station, however, there is a trace. The stone fireplaces of the wooden chimneys of the whalers' huts still stand on the western elope of the island, and the spot where the .whales were "cut in" and "tried out," is still marked by the remains of the etone and "brickwork on which the huge try pots, ctood, and the rock face hard by is still Bmoke-grimed. When I first visited Taieri Island three of the great pots stood awaeh at half-tide near the trying-out station. Two were subsequently removed by settlers to boil pig-feed in, an<} the third has been buried beneath the accumulations of sand that have since changed the aspect of the western or river side of the island, where the whalers bad their boat harbour. Standing on the summit of the island, with the boom of the surf, which tosses the spray Jiigh over the rocks on the eastern or ocean side in one's ears, it is easy to imagine the echo of distant voices coming across the void that lies between the present and that distant p x ast, when Moturata was the scene of busy life, and when from the same vantage point the head man of the whaling party directed the boats racing with each other to be first amongst a school of passing whales. But there is no sign o£ t fife stirring now, save when a timid rabbit scuttles to its, burrow on your approach, or. when- the wheeling seagull utters his plaintive cry, as if challenging intrusion upon his domain. The.fire-hardaned -recks, cast in Nature's mould amid the turmoil of volcanic forces, still resound to the roar of i the surf, as the green curling waves break on the shore and send tfie (spume and spray dashing high around. The grim rocks and beetling crags seem to bid defiance to time, and their contour is the same to-day as when the Maoris, fresh over the sea from far away Hawaiki, first beheld the wooded islet, and named Me Aurato — rata island.

Taieri Island .was last inhabited in the heyday of the Tuapeka rush, when the old day roads became unfit for the heavy stream of traffic that passed over them, and ■when thousands of the "New Iniquity" had invaded the fair domain of the " Old Identity," and were on their way to the diggings. In these stirring days a pilot station was set up on Taieri Island, and the story of Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday wae again recalled by the iiicknames applied by facetious ones to Pilot Irvin arxl •his assistant, Pilot Fullerton. But the iiuprovement of the rooda obviated the neoos*>ity of sending goods by the small coasters by way of the Taieri River, and the old pilot house soon fell into ruins. A few House piles mark the spot where it stood: all eke has been obliterated by the rank growth of vegetation on a generous soil. But the time of which I write, when the nineteenth century wai still young, Taieri Island ■was a place of importance. It was while Captain Williams's whaling station was in full swing that the two brothers Palmer came to Dusky Bay. The Palmers — Edwin and William — were Sjdney natives, as those who were born in that town used to be called. Their father was a soldier, who fought under Wellington in the Peninsular war, and who subsequently came to Sydney with his regiment to look after the convicts in the early days of the convict settlement. The young Palmers, with the martial blood of generations of Englishmen burning hot in their veins, early sought some more fitting outlet for their energies than the humdrum life of a convict station afforded. The new industry across the Tasman Sea, on the storm-swept New Zealand coast, held the promise of a field of adventure such as their natures pined for. Nesrjy three-quarters of a century ago, " Old Bill Palmer," aa a younger generation has designated him, came, along with his brother Edwin, to Preservation Inlet.

Sydney sealers frequented the west coast of the South Island towards the close of the preceding century, and the tales they told of the immense school*! of sperm and black whales that disported themselves in New Zealand coastal waters soon led to adventurous spirits visiting these shores to prosecute an industry at which fortunes were made in northern seas. But the fitful visits of Sydney schooners only touched the fringe of tho industry, and it was soon discovered that in order to reap the full benefit of the treasure that was running to waste up and down the coast it was necessary to establish shore stations. The first of these concerning which there is any authentic record was established at Pre•servation Inlet (or Dusky Bay, as it was .then called) by Captain Peter Williams, an 1829. Captain Williams, better known ■±o the Otago pioneers as " Billy" Williams, .was quite a celebrity at the beginning of the settlement. Captain Williams -wae an Englishman, having been born at Milford Haven, Pembrokeshire, in 179*. He came tfrom Sydney as owner of a smart brig that did good business at the whale fishing, and jdied in Dunedin in 1868. Foveaux Strait and the waters westward were the favourite ihaunts of the sperm whale, and many a ilordly monster fell victim to the prowess of these adventurous spirits who isolated ftbttO3£lYef in this savage land to pursue

their arduous and dangerous calling. Off the Solanders in the stormy etrait was a favourite fishing-ground, but often the whalers had the chagrin of being compelled to cast their catch adrift when a north-west gale sprang up and compelled them to run for shelter. Of the SoJander grounds Frank T. Bullen, in the " Cruise of the Cachalot," says : " Almost in the centre of the wide stretch of sea between Preservation Inlet and Stewart Island rose a majestic mass of wavebeaten rock some 2000 ft high, like a grim sentinel guarding the strait. The extent of the fishing-grounds was not more than 150 square miles, and it was rarely that the vessels cruised over the whole of it. The most likely area for finding whales was said to be well within sight of the Solander rock itserf, but keeping on the western side of it." Unlike the talented writer of that charming book, who entered the whaling ground on a lovely day, my first sight of the Solander rock was amid the howling waste of a storm-tossed water in the track of a W.N.W. gale, which blew with hurricane equalta and sent the willie-waughs whirling down the strait. Th© Solander li»3 right in the track of the westerly gales, and it is easy to imagine what toil and danger must have been encountered in the fight with the great leviathans of the deep amid such stormy surroundings. Local knowledge was of prime importance; as Bullen shows in the case of the well-known whaler Paddy Gilroy, who time and again towed his catch to the whaling station, while others were compelled to cast theirs adrift. Such local knowledge the- station in Dusky Bay afforded the whalers admirable opportunity of acquiring, and, needless to add, the station proved a highly lucrative one.

It was towards the close of the year 1831, when the old man, who recently died over 90 years of age, < and who was but a stripling in his twentieth year, came to New Zealand. His brother was 15 years older. No wonder that his face looked rugged, and the snows of age had blanched his chock head of hair. Nine decades of a century leave their mark upon the toughest constitution, and wonderful men these must have been to have endured the inroads of time co long, and to have defied the destructive influences of the wild life they led.

The early whaling days brought many fearless, smart men to these coasts, and amongst the most distinguished, at a time when courage and skill were invaluable, there were no braver men and no more skilful whalers than Ned and Bill Palmer. Edwin Palmer acted as coastal pilot for Mr Tuckett in his memorable cruise in the schooner Deborah, in 18+4. William Palmer also remembers Tuckett well, having taken him from Tautuku to the next river, the Tahakqpa, in a whale boat on the return journey from the south.

At" the time of the Deborah's cruise the whaling station on Taieri Island was in charge of the renowned Tommy Chasland, whose name has been perpetuated in tho promontory known as Ohasland's Mistake, and latterly by a county riding being named Chaalands. Tommy Chasland was a halfcaste Australian, or New Holland black, as the aborigines were then termed ; and by those who knew him intimately said not to have been at all a bad sort of fellow. He and William Palmer were partners at Tautuku at an earlier date, but Chasland subsequently became manager for the Weller Bros, at Taieri Island. What manner of man Chasland's father was is not known, but the redoubtable Tommy was about as fearIces as a man well could be, and the strain of black blood in his veins gave him that skill and cunning so much prized in a slayer of whales. Yet, in spite of his well-tried skill Chasland sometimes committed errors of judgment in approaching a whale, and on one occasion nearly paid the penalty of rashness with his life. It was while he was at Tautuku in partnership with Bill Palmer that the mishap occurred, which cost him the loss of a whaJeboat and half his crew. It was on a June morning that a rift in the fog showed a school of whales in the offing, and as the fog gava signs of lifting the boats were launched and gave chase. Tommy Chasland, with unerring skill, was soctn fast to a whale, behind which the boat was rushing at high speed into the fog, which began to close down again. All went well until the boat came close up to the whale. Chauland allowed the boat to come a little too near, in order to make the thrust of the whale lance the more effective. The lance got home all right, but the whale at the same time made a plunge, and by i single stroke of its mighty flukes smashed the boat in half, sending three of the crew (one European and two Maoris) to the bottom. Chasland, Sam Perkins, and a Maori clung to the remaining half of the boat, the other half being shattered to matchwood. After waiting a long time, wet through and shivering in the fog, with no signs of help coming, Chasland divested himself of all his clothing, asnd ventured on the attempt to swim ashore, although the wrecked boat was a good six mile 3 off shore at that time. Promising his mates to eend help if he got to land he bade them good-bye and plunged into the wintry waters. He had not been gone an hour when two of the other boats came along aud rescued Sam Perkins and the Maori. The latter, however, did not afterwards recover from the effects of the long exposure in the icy water. The boats cruised about in a zig-zag fashion, and the crews cooeed in vain, till well in shore, when the search for Chasland was abandoned and the redoubtable whaler given up for lost. The circumstance was reported to the me>n at the whaling station, and the deepest gloom was experienced at the supposed loss of the most daring man who ever lanced a whale. The men mourned Chasland as dead! Not a bit of it. They little knew the marvellous powers of endurance of the man. Late in the afternoon one of the men noticed something moving through the fog along the beach, and coon h was distinguished as a naked man. A shout of joy went up, and several went off to meet him. Tommy Chasland had successfully covered the whole distance that lay between him and his only hope of safety at the time of the accident by swimming, and seemed none the worse for his experience. A dry suit of clothes and a pannikin of"rum wiped out all trace of the adventure, and Chasland was ready for the fray again.

It was about this time that the largest shark ever captured on the New Zealand coast was killed at Tautuku. The whale carcases that strewed the beach after the blubber had been stripped off attracted sharks inshore, and many sharks of large oize were seen. But one fine morning a monster of truly enormous proportions was seen disporting himself just outside the gentle surf on the beach of the sheltered bay. Jim Whybrow, harpooner of one of the boats, eagerly proposed to push out in a wiuiaboat and .endeavour to capture the

monster. Chasland tried to dissuade him from the attempt, remarking that a shark of that, size was not to be played with. But Whybrow and his crew were eager to secure the prize, and pushed out, against the advice of others. They approached the shark cautiously, while Whybrow stcod r.p, lance in hand, hoping to be able to lance the monster in a vital part before it took alarm and sped off. The other boats' crews stood on the beach and were anxious spectators of the performance. But, horror ! the shark sighted the approaching boat, and instantly rushed upon it open-mouthed, threatening to engulf half the boat and crew in its capacious maw, lined with many rows of horrid, glistening teeth. Chasland took in the situation at a glance, and as the boat was scarce a chain off shore called out to Whybrow to run the lance down the brute's throat. With unerring thrust he did so, and the shark shore off, soon to be in ite death flurry. The triumphant crew towed the carcase ashore, and found upon measurement that it was 26ft long. What a prize for the Maoris! They at once set to work upon the head, and coon had the teeth chopped out for ornaments, although "many were broken and destroyed in the process. Palmer tried in vain to save the head as a trophy for the Sydney Museum, but the Maoris ■were not to be done out of their prize, and remonstrance wa& vain. (To be Continued.)