HOW WE DID THE MAN IN BLUE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3399, 7 May 1919, Page 47

HOW WE DID THE MAN IN BLUE.

AN ADVENTURE OF SIXTY YEARS AGO. By Geo. M. Hassing. It was in October, 1858, that we left St. Catharine's Dock, London, in the barque Ambrosine, belonging to the firm of Shaw, Savill, and Co., for Canterbury, New Zealand. The barque was an old vessel of about 600 tons, and carried a general cargo in the hold, and about 60 or 70 emigrants in the 'tween-deck, besides a few cabin passengers. On going down the English Channel we encountered that terrific gale which ended the career of the Royal Charter on the coast of Cornwall while on her homeward voyage from Melbourne to London. Apart from the ordinary daily events on board a sailing ship, nothing unusual occurred until after rounding the Cape of Good Hope, where we got into the "roaring westerlies," then scarcely a day passed without something aloft being carried away. Either a shroud, backstay, running rigging, sail, or spar would go flying" and fluttering before the gale. Though fairly sound in the hull, the old craft was perfectly rotten above decks, and this nearly brought us to grief on Kerguelen Land or the Island of Desolation. Had it not been for the alertness and excellent seamanship of the genial skipper, Captain Parsons, I am doubtful if this humble article would ever appear in print. After a passage of 120 days we anchored safely in the harbour, of Port Cooper, or Lyttelton. As there was no wharfage accommodation in those days, the passengers with their luggage were landed in cargo boats, and -most of "them made their way on foot by the bridle track across the Port Hills to Christchurch, then a village nestled amongst flax bushes and cabbage trees on the banks of the Avon, which was almost solidly overgrown with weeds and watercress. One cabin passenger, a young, welleducated, gentlemanly fellow, but of an eccentric disposition occasionally bordering on insanity, named Robert Simpson, the son of a wealthy London leather merchant, landed in Lyttelton with letters of introduction to Mr John Hall, who was at that time magistrate at the port. During the few days that Simpson stayed at Lyttelton he committed some queer pranks. One evening he lowered himself from an upper window of his hotel down into the street by means of the sheets and blankets of his bedclothes tied together. This created a lot of amusement among the townspeople. His destination was the home of Mr Fitzgerald, of Hawke's Bay, and for this place he started in the first small coasting steamer leaving the port. Poor Bob Simpson, however, never arrived at his destination. He was last observed in the evening on board the steamer dressed in his Sunday suit and lavender kid gloves; bu t in the morning he had disappeared, and nothing was ever again seen of Simpson. It might surprise the present-day steamship sailor or mechanic, now earning high wages, being well fed, and enjoying all the comforts of a home, to learn that when I landed in New Zealand the wages of an able seaman was £2 10s a month, the food chiefly salt horse and weevilly biscuits, and the accommodation a bunk alongside the windlass. Think of it, you modern discontented and grumbling man ners who go down to the sea in ships! It was therefore little wonder that, learning we could earn £1 a week, with an unlimited allowance of damper and mutton, in this Britain of the South, we became dissatisfied, and watched an opportunity to clear out. So one evening about a fortnight after arrival, and while the captain and officers were enjoying themselves in the cabin, I pulled the dinghy (which was towing astern) up under the bows, and three of us jumped in and made for the little boat jetty. It was a dark, storm}- night, and we had a hard pull to reach the shore against the gale. On getting to the jetty a waterman put his head over the railing, and asked us to leave the boat in his charge. This we agreed to, stopped on shore with our swags, and made for the Port Hill bridle track. Though dark, Ave soon reached the ton, and, looking doM'n the Hcathrote Valley, wo noticed what ap pearcd to be a earip fire halfway down tho

hill, fo we made for it. On reaching the camp fire we found a tent and a party of marauding tickei-of-leave men out on a

plundering * expedition. Though apparently a lawless crew, after taking our measure they told us we would be unable to cross the Heathcote River, as Pearce, the ferryman, lived on the opposite bank; bub they invited xis to share their camp fire and hospitality. This we gladly accepted till daybreak, when we resumed our journey. We passed through Christchurch, and made for Kaiapoi, where we camped that night in a house that was being built. In the morning a man put his head through the window-frame and invited us to breakfast. No doubt the stranger could guess who and what we were; hence his kindness. A young man, Orlando Kenrick, came out in the ship -with us, and as his destination was Ranglora, where a relative of his owned a sawmill, we made for Rangiora on the second day. Here we were most kindly treated by Mr Vincent, the manager of the sawmill, and his good wife. While there a gentleman—Mr Boyce, manager of Clifford and Well's Stonyhurst Station—came in and engaged in conversation with us. He told us they were mustering the stragglers, and that if we made for the station he would employ the three of us. This offer we gratefully accepted, and Mr Boyce left. Having obtained a supply of food, we decided to start on our journey that evening, but on- going up the road we were overtaken by Mr Boyce on horseback. He stated that after leaving us he met Mr Revell, the policeman, then stationed at Kaiapoi, who asked him if he had seen anything of three runaway sailors, because he had a warrant for their arrest. Faithful but prevaricating, Mr Boyce replied that he knew nothing about us. He thereupon told us he was quite sure Mr Revell, in his endeavour to capture us, would ride no further than Saltwater Creek, where there was an accommodationhouse and a boat, and that if we continued our journey that night, and got across Saltwater Creek some distance we would be quite safe; but, added he, I cannot now give you employment for fear of getting into trouble, but if you reach Stonyhurst, call there and you shall be kindly treated'. After expressions of gratitude to Mr Boyce for his kindness, we made for the Saltwater Creek.

The night was warm, fairly clear, and we were three jolly youths. There was no made road, but we trudged along, following the dray tracks till about 10 or 11 o'clock, when we were brought up by a river. This we naturally concluded was Saltwater Creek, so we looked about for the house and the boat, but could discover neither. Thinking we might in the semi-darkness have missed the house, we forded the river, and continued our journey a, couple of miles further, where we camped among the sandhills. At break of day, congratulating ourselves on escaping the " bobby," we started on our journey. We had, however, proceeded but a short distance when we noticed a house ahead of us, then the creek came into view, and the boat Now, here was a fix. The river we had crossed the previous evening we afterwards found was the Ashley, and here, just ahead of U 3, was the Salt water Creek and the house—probably at that moment containing the man in blue. It was about 5 o'clock and a Sunday morning, when the three of us stood outside listening intently. Luckily there were no dogs about. I opened the door softly, and the sight that met my gaze fairly made my hair stand on end. There in bed lay the policeman, fast asleep, hiß belt and revolver on a small table alongside the bed. The three of us had a look at him dreaming the happy hours away. We closed the door gently, and, like the Arabs, stole silently away. It took us about the twinkling of an eye to reach the creek, where luckily the tide was in flood, jump into the boat, and reach the opposite bank, where we dragged the boat up high and dry. By the time that policeman woke up we were no doubt fully 10 miles north of the danger zone; nor did we stop till we reached the Waipara. Our next stage was Stonyhurst, where Mr Boyce, who was the embodiment of kindness, supplied us with food and tobacco. Thence we travelled on to the Reilly Bros., and the Kaikoura Whaling Station, where we secured a passage in the schooner Randolph, Captain Kempthorne, for Wellington. I shortly afterwards went down to Lyttelton in the ketch Juno, Captain Jack Green, where I discovered the reason why Captain Parsons had issued a warrant for our' arrest. It appears that the waterman who offered to take charge of the boat in which we escaped got into his own boat that evening and towed the ship's boat down the harbour some distance into a convenient nook. There he camped, but on the following morning he towed the boat back to the vessel, where he told the captain he had picked up the boat drifting near the entrance of the harbour, and demanded £5 salvage. This, I learned, the captain paid him; but being angered at what this lying boatman told him and led him to believe, he took out a warrant for our arrest.

Sixty years have now elapsed since the occurrence here related took place. The country has changed from a sheep run to a progressive and flourishing Dominion, and I have the inward satisfaction of knowing that in a humble way I have lent my best effort and energy to bring about this happy result.