THE IMMIGRANT SHIP

Otago Witness, Issue 3782, 7 September 1926, Page 80

THE IMMIGRANT SHIP

By

Carlson E. Holmes.

(For thm Witness.) “Yes, yes, dear! That’s New Zealand. No, you’re looking at a cloud. See—those hills just over there.” * * * The huge steamer, with her crowd of immigrants, noses her way down the coast. Only three more hours—and it will all be over—weeks of anticipations, wonderful, yet strongly fearful “I’ve failed so many, many times. Perhaps there is a place for me in New Zealand. If only ” The passengers gaze moodily at the distant land. So that’s New 7 Zealand? All those hills, without a sign of life—hills that, since the beginning, have brooded sullenly over the sea—the sea that brought canoes —then white-winged ships —then smoking leviathans of steel, * * • Wellington! A drizzling rain and a biting wind are protesting against the arrival of these newcomers, some of whom are standing on the wet decks, surrounded by pitiful little packages of personal belongings. From one or two, a tearful, heart-broken sob. The journey is over, now, and it seems so long since England faded away. Oh, if the boat were only going back! A family which has landed on the wharf gaze around in frank dismay. Where 10 now? The father —a timid little shop assistant from London—meekly asks a man the way to an hotel: “one not too expensive, you understand.” Two young Scotchmen, whose accent could he cut with a knife, stride along the wharf. No reaction or fears .about them! “All’ll find tli’ Pa ust An dice, Aleck. Ah must cable tli’ auld woman.” * * * Down the gangway they come. Some to meet success—aonie to hnd happiness—■ some with the determination to teach New Zealand a thing or two —some to be as lazy here as they were at Home—some to find fault with everything, and to serve up “We do it differently in England” on the slightest provocation. All sorts of people—from all sorts of places—all wondering wliat New Zealand is going to do for them.