Early Days in Central Otago

Otago Witness, Issue 3995, 7 October 1930, Page 6

Early Days in Central Otago

BY

Robert Gilkison

Being Tales 1 of Times gone by J

CHAPTER XVI.—CHINAMEN. Which I wish to remark. And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain The heathen Chinee is peculiar. —Bret Harte,

The placid, mysterious, and incomprehensible Chinaman has helped to make history on the Otago goldfields. In a gentle, apologetic way he followed the pioneers, took up abandoned claims, "worked forsaken tailraces, and when the Molyneux went low cradled the banks of the river. There were some thousands of them at one time in Otago. The writer remembers one "winter before the era of dredging, when hard frost reduced the river to its lowest, two hundred and fifty Chinamen arrived in small groups and took up as claims the thirteen miles of river between Clyde and Cromwell, and in some cases "won very rich gold. They were an industrious, hard-living race, but when they began to be too numerous, they were checked by the imposition of a poll tax, which has since been increased, so that the pig-tailed Chinaman of the goldfields has now ceased to exist. Many strange things happened in the days when they were spread over the land. In the early ’nineties a quarrel arose between the Chinamen of Alexandra and a gang of roughs, with the result that on several occasions the Chinese houses in that town were smashed open with big stones and otherwise damaged. The Chinese had great difficulty in getting redress, through not knowing the names of the aggressors, and on several' occasions an alibi was successfully set up by the defendants. The feud went on until a harmless Chinaman was seriously burnt through his tent having been set on fire from outside. This time, fortunately, a European had seen the scoundrel in the act of burning the tent, and although the usual attempt to prove an alibi was made, the wrongdoer w r as convicted and sent to cool his heels in Dunedin gaol for a few months. This quietened matters for, a time, and people began to forget about the Chinese quarrels. Then one day an old Chinaman w r ho- kept a store returned to the district to collect some debts due by his countrymen. He stayed at Alexandra, then went away up the ranges to call on his scattered friends. The old man was never seen again. It w r as known he had money—several hundred pounds. Soon the public began to talk, and foul play was feared. A reward "was offered by the Chinese for the recovery of their missing friend, dead or alive.

In this tense state of affairs, a party of miners, some of whom had been suspected of being engaged in the feud, decided to play a practical joke. They combined the earcass of an ancient sheep with parts of an equally ancient goat, gave it a bald head with a pigtail made of goat’s beard, and staring eyes, dressed it in old clothes similar to the missing Chinaman’s, and then left it on a beach in the Molyneux where corpses were sometimes stranded. A veteran miner was the first to discover it. He spent no time in turning it over or investigating, but went at once to report to the police. The policeman came, and evidently did not like the, job. The less he had to do with this foul-smelling mass the better he was pleased, so he engaged four men to take the corpse in a boat to Alexandra. As the men were members of the joke party, they moved the body without discovering anything, and were glad to receive £1 each for their - ’trouble.

At Alexandra a dense crowd awaited the body. The rumour had been spread that murder had been committed, and the body was being brought to the town. A room had been engaged for a post mortem, where the local doctor and a doctor who had galloped down from the Dunstan sharpened their instruments and waited. The body was laid on the table by several of the conspirators, who, it was noticed, walked in with their hats on and with a singular lack of reverence. “ Take off your hats in the presence of the dead,” said old William Theyers, the father of Alexandra, “ this is an awful day for Alexandra.” And the rough bearers, much against their will, were compelled to put theii* pipes out and take off their hats. Then the doctors began their work. They opened up a dirty shirt which covered the mortal chest, and found —wool! “What the devil’s this?” said the surgeon, and, as he pulled out wool and rubbish, found two

sheep’s legs. Then and only then did the doctors and the police become aware of the fact that they were the victims of a practical joke. But the sad part of this tale is that, although the people of Alexandra had a hearty laugh and even yet occasionally like to tell of the inquest on the sheep’s corpse, to this day the old Chinaman who wandered up the hills to see his friends has never returned.

For many years there was working as station cook in Central Otago a merry little Chinaman called Billy M‘Nab. Billy had earned his sobriquet in a peculiar way. Anxious to be appointed a station cook—a position which always carried good wages—he had several times applied for a vacancy, and had always been refused. So, when M‘Nab of Knapdale advertised for a cook, he sent in an application written by a friend, but instead of putting Chun Dun at the foot of the letter, his friend put “ Billy M'Nab.” Billy duly got the job,, and when he arrived at the station the surprise and astonishment of the employer can be imagined w’hen it was discovered the new cook was not a fellow-clansman, but a Chinaman. A quiet, friendly soul was Chick "Wee, the gardener from Conroy’s Gully. For many years he worked his orchard and grew his peaches and apricots and retailed them amongst the people of the district. He was ever the children’s friend, for when he drove his old horse and cart laden with fruit into the town, he was always generous in giving away to the young people who gathered round him. When Chick Wee grew old, he decided he must return to the Flowery Land to die in his own country amongst his own countrymen. So he sold out all he had, took the proceeds in the shape of British sovereigns, and off he went to the land of his fathers. But a sad fate befell him. Some unjust mandarin tried to make him pay blackmail, and when he refused, had him arrested on a trumped-up charge of having committed a murder years before. Poor Chick Wee got neither justice nor sympathy in his own country, and before long he was barbarously executed — a cruel ending to a peaceful and industrious life. One of the most remarkable men in the goldfields was John Ewing. In business a far-sighted, clear-headed, crafty but honourable man, he proved himself one of the most progressive leaders of the gold mining industry. He was never content to do things as they had always been done, but was always seeking improved methods, and to him many advances in hydraulic sluicing and elevating were due. Though in general good tempered and fair minded, it was known by his men that if treated badly he could display an almost Ungovernable temper. Another side of his nature was shown by his love of reading, his poetical discrimination, and his extraordinary memory; and in his home he loved to sit in his armchair and recite Keats or Shelley or Tennyson, entirely oblivious of either meal hours or appointments. This was the man who found the gold from his tailrace was being stolen, and had grave ground for suspecting that a Chinaman named Ho Chow, a man of evil repute amongst his own people, was the thief. He'ordered his men to keep watch over the tailrace day and night, and he brought forth a double-barrelled fowling-piece loaded with small shot, which he placed in the men’s hut for emergencies.

Then one night he was roused by a cry from his men that they had caught a Chinaman in the tailrace, and ■were trying to secure him. Ewing, fearing the thief would escape or bring his friends, lifted his gun and shot him. A neighbouring miner rushed on the scene. This man was infuriated, like Ewing, through having lost gold, and would have further mauled the unfortunate prisoner, but Ewing prevented him, and himself went to the police camp to report what had taken place. The captive proved to be Ho Chow, as suspected, and was taken to the hospital, where he eventually recovered.

Ewing was arrested, and tried in the Supreme Court, Dunedin, for unlawful wounding, and was defended by Mi’ Macassey and Mr Stout. He did not dispute the facts, and it was admitted he acted under great provocation, as it "was clearly proved that the Chinaman was stealing his gold. Mr Justice Chapman said the whole case turned on whether Ewing had good reason to believe that the life of his servant was in danger. The jury retired, and were evidently much averse to convicting accused, but after four hours found* a verdict of guilty, with a recommendation to

mercy. In those days there was no First Offenders Act, and Ewing was sentenced to eighteen months’ imprison-* ment.

Then petitions from every goldfield, every gully, and every valley and flat poured in to the Governor asking that Ewing s sentence be remitted. When Mr Justice Chapman was consulted about it, he warned the authorities there were hundreds of Chinese in Otago, and if they lost faith in English law they might in future take the law into their own hands. The authorities decided to release Ewing after he had served a month, but as a quid pro quo to the Chinese, resolved to set free a Chinaman named Ah Cheong who had been convicted of serious assault on the goldfields about the- same time and sentenced to a long term of imprisonment. So, when Ewing walked out of prison on the 11th November, 1872, this lucky Ah Cheong found himself unaccountably, and to his own great surprise, pushed out of gaol. Whether his compatriots were gratified by the graceful compliment of allowing their friend’s unexpected return to their midst the historical record saith not.

A tale is told of the late Harry Thomas, of Cornish Town, near Cromwell, who once single-handed, armed only with a stout cudgel, defeated a mob of Chinamen. It was the custom for Jackson Barry, who was then butcher in Cromwell, to leave half a sheep every Saturday evening at the “ chair ” by which Thomas used to cross the Kawarau, One Saturday night, on going for his mutton, he found it gone, and suspected some Chinese were concerned in the theft. So, the next morning, armed with a good stick and accompanied by his little boy and a Newfoundland dog, he set off to Gibraltar Rock, where a large party of Chinamen were camped. He told his boy Dick tp hold on to the dog and not to let him go unless he told him; and when they came to the caves there was the mutton hanging in the shade of a rock outside a cave. He went in and said in his best pidgin English, “ You take my meat? ’” The answer was, “No savee.” “ I’ll make you savee,” said Thomas, and he laid about him with the stick. Others from different running up, and Thomas, having his blood up, treated them as he had the others until the gorge echoed with the howls of Chinamen. Having rescued their meat supply, Thomas and his boy returned triumphant, and on the way met about fifty Chinamen in single file, who had crossed the chair three or four at a time, wending their way home after a Saturday night spent in a gambling den in Cromwell. Had they been sooner home, probably Thomas and his boy would have been crumpled up and thrown in the river.

The Chinese generally did not encourage thieving, and the man responsible for the larceny of the meat had to leave the district. Speaking of Mr Thomas afterwards, the almond-eyed gentlemen were accustomed to say, “ Him debil. Too muchee wild man.”

An interesting sidelight on the Chinese mind is afforded by perusal of a petition by Kwan Hay and others of his nationality against Mr Warden Beetham, the magistrate of Queenstown. By some means, a copy found its way into European hands, and was sent to Melbourne for translation, and was published in the Daily Times on 16th June, 1873 :■ — CHINESE PETITION AGAINST MR WARDEN BERTRAM, A book for the collection of money issued by many who deliberated. We, the Flowery people, have not counted it far to come a thousand ley (3000 miles), and having arrived in a strange country in search of wealth, expected that Chinese and foreigners would dwell together in harmony; hut at Queenstown there is a great feeling of anger, indignation, and resentment against the magistrate of that place, who is wicked and vicious, a violator of decorum and moral propriety, and introducing confusion and anarchy into the relations of life. ...

If we go to law, this dog magistrate does not distinguish and separate clearly, but at once takes and inflicts fines on us, the Flowery people. Thus it may be seen that this dog magistrate appropriates the fines in the dark. ...

A great lawyer, who is just and upright, respects us, the Flowery people, as people of original ability and our bellies filled with talent. . . . With him was spoken clearly about the payment of money. If the lawyer explains clearly and manages ably this business so that this magistrate shall not in Queenstown perform his functions, then he will receive the money. But if he explains clearly and the magistrate is not removed from office in Queenstown, he will not touch the smallest amount, but it will be returned to the subscribers. Certainly, if this dog magistrate is sent awav, truly we shall rejoice. ...

Those who are the treasurers and will see that the money is disposed of as stated are

Ye Goon (store name). Kwan Hay. Oun Woa (store’s name). Wong Kang Moon.

Here follows list of names and subscriptions of from 3s 6d to £5.

The Chinese, no doubt, were accustomed in their own country to the mandarin “ appropriating the fines in the dark,” and they assumed that this “ dog magistrate,” who dares to inflict fines on the Flowery people, must be ' doing it to fill his own pocket. As a fact, Mr Warden Beetham was" noted for his stern sense of justice and untiring efforts to do what was right, and no stain marked his fair reputation.

The petition was duly presented to the Provincial Council, but the translation given to that body did not include the paragraph relating to the arrangement made with the great lawyer who was just and upright and respected the Chinese people. Commissioners were appointed to inquire into the complaint, and their report while it entirely exonerated Mr Beetham, showed that many of the signatures were, according to expert evidence in the same handwriting, and, further, that sundry Chinese whose names were attached averred that they knew nothing about it.

So, in this ease, the people of the Flowery Land failed to attain their object, but quite maintained their reputation of being masters of ways that are dark and tricks that are vain. As the great lawyer was to be paid only by results, we hope the money was returned to the subscribers.

The custom of Chinese in their own country to pay bribes to the judge to decide in their favour is fairly well known. For a long time a Chinese storekeeper at Queenstown used to collect money from his countrymen when engaged in litigation, under the plea that it had to be paid to the judge. No one knew about it until the storekeeper became bankrupt and his Chinese books were interpreted and checked, when items were found such as “ Payment to judge, £30.” Of course, the payments were imaginary only, and the astute Chinaman had pocketed the £3O.

One more tale to demonstrate the views with which Chinese regard English justice. This occurred, not in Otago, but in France during war time.

Amongst the men comprised in a Chinese labour battalion near the front in France in 1918 were two -who one day quarrelled, and, in order to settle their dispute, attacked one another with shovels until one succeeded in cleaving the skull of his- or; -rnnt. Immediately all the other Chinese surrounded the slayer and would quickly have finished him had not a British guard rescued him. A court-martial was promptly called to deal with it, and as the man denied nothing, it all seemed plain sailing; but, io, it was discovered the Chinese were not subject to British martial law, and John Chinaman was walked back to his cell. The French courts were appealed to, but they also were without jurisdiction, and again the Chinaman went back to his cell. Apparently reference was then made to the Chinese Ambassador in Paris, but while the authorities were arguing over the position, the prisoner, getting tired of the law’s delays, settled matters by hanging himself. He knew’ he had killed his man; he expected death, and so meekly accepted his fate, accomplishing what so far the law had failed to perform. It used to be the belief of the Chinese that a man of their race must be buried in his native country in order to attain immortality. From time to time Chinamen died in Otago and were buried in the local cemeteries with Strange ceremonies, but after a time a ship was chartered to take all the remains back to China, and the ukase went forth that all must be disinterred, for the Chinese are very conscientious in looking after their deceased countrymen. So the consent of the Colonial Secretary was obtained, and all through the country the old bones of the defunct Chinamen -were taken up, and, eventually, the ship was laden wdth remains of hundreds of bodies, and sailed from Dunedin port for the Flow’ery Land. She must have gone down in mid ocean with all her ghastly cargo, for she never reached her port, and was never heard of again.

CHAPTER XVII.—MYSTERIES.

As secret as the grave.—Cervantes.

Amid the high black precipices of the gorges, by the banks of the cruel, boiling stream of the Molyneux, and on the lonely mountain sides there have been enacted many tragedies, particulars of which the world never knew, and which have never been unravelled." In the early days, full many a digger simply disappeared. He fell over a cliff or was w’ashed away by the current of the river and was never seen again. Even the missing man’s name w’as often unknown. Mayhap he was known as Curly Jack, Hairy Bill, or some such sobriquet, and even his mates knew neither who he w’as nor whence he came. Away across the seas somebody looked for him and waited for him; somebody missed him and eagerly scanned New Zealand papers for some news of the loved one. But the missing man had gone to the unknown warrior’s grave. The number of men who disappeared and w r ere never heard of again was very great. Advertisements for missing friends were very common, and in a vast number of instances were never answered. Typical of many cases is the following: Many years ago a body was thrown up on a beach of the Molyneux below Miller’s Flat. There was nothing to show who he was, but his pale face and fine form showed he had been a handsome youth in his lifetime, and William Rigney, a tender-hearted miner residing near, buried the body in the manuka bush near the river, and put a fence round the grave and a slab at the head, on which he printed the simple line:— Somebody’s darling lies buried here. This touching bush grave was well known to all the residents of the district, and when, after about thirty years, z the slab began to decay, a new stone was erected by public subscription. Handsome though the new marble may be, however, it can never have the simple pathos of the rough old slab. Later still, when Rigney himself died, it was found he had left a request that he should be buried beside

the unknown stranger, so permission from the authorities was obtained, and a new stone in the enclosure has the following inscription •—

Here lieth the body of William Rigney, The man who buried Somebody’s Darling.

The blue Molyneux exacted a heavy toll. In days when the Sullivan and Levy gang prowled about the Kawarau, many a good man disappeared “ without trace.” There were grave suspicions of foul play in 1862, but the dead came not back to tell. Looking through the files of newspapers of that day, we find suspicious facts from time to time given. Thus, in the Daily Times of 29th December,_lB62, it is reported: “ The body of a man was found in the river under rather suspicious circumstances, a large stone being found on the neck.” A few days later, on the Ist of January, 1863, the same paper reports: “ A party reports that the body of a man is lying on the banks of the Kawarau opposite the junction of the Roaring Meg with that river.” “ Several other bodies have been seen floating down the river by several persons; and one of the parties engaged by Mr Hill, the timber rafter from the lakes, who is stationed at Kawarau Junction (Cromwell) states that he frequently sees dead bodies floating down the river. Anxiety is felt as to whether some of these have not been murdered and their bodies throwoi into the turbulent and rapid waters of the river.”

On the 28th of August a body was found in the Molyneux at Manuherikia, supposed to be that of a German named Guetzieuker from Cardrona. Two medical men were called on to hold a post mortem, and they swore at the inquest that the skull was beaten in and the body had fourteen wounds, all inflicted before death. A verdict of wilful murder against persons unknown was returned, but no further steps were ever taken against anyone. We know that at the time when these events were going on Burgess and Kelly were safely ensconced in Dunedin gaol; but Sullivan and Levy were at large, and it is exceedingly probable, knowing the later history of these men on the West Coast, that these same miscreants were responsible for many of the bodies seen floating down the Molyneux.

Among other mysteries of the goldfields is that of a man’s skull which was picked up at Mutton Town Gully, near Clyde. This skull has an ominous hole in it, as if a pick had been driven into it. It is preserved in the museum at the County Chambers, Clyde, but nothing more about it is known.

About the year 1872 an Irish driver came up Ida Valley with a team of horses and heavily loaded wagon, and camped at a wayside inn. He was a well-known character on the goldfields, one who worked well, spent freely, and always carried considerable sums of money with him. He had his supper, fed his horses, went to his wagon, and w r as never seen again alive. In the morning his dead body was found hanging by the neck to the pole or some portion of his wagon. No money was found in the wagon or on his body. An inquest was held at Blacks, when the question was raised, “ How could lib hang himself in the position found? ” but the jury returned a verdict of suicide. Hardly, however, had the inquiry concluded when the resident surgeon of Blacks, Dr Niven, entered the court-and informed Mr Carew, the coroner, that he had found the deceased had not died from hanging, but had been murdered, and-afterwards put in the place where he was found. The mystery of who murdered poor “ Paddy ” was never cleared up, and his money was never traced. Later on, however, the writer had the satisfaction of procuring for his relations in New York a sum of several hundreds of pounds, the proceeds of the wagon, horses, etc., which had been realised by the Curator of Intestate Estates, and preserved by the Public Trustee. Another Irishman, named Ned Morrissey, disappeared in the same district/ It was generally believed he had been murdered and his body thrown down one of the mining shafts which are common in the Raggedy Range. A large reward was offered for evidence which would lead to the detection of the murderer, but without avail. No trace of the missing man’s body was ever found. Terrible tragedies have been enacted on the cold waters of the Otago lakes, the true history of which has never been known.

Some years ago a digger, who had saved a few hundred pounds with which to return to the Old Country, came down to Queenstown from the Shotover. Unfortunately, there he settled at a shady hotel, and for some weeks was seen hanging about under the influence of liquor. Then he disappeared, and some weeks later he was found in the Queenstown Bay. Bodies in the main portion

of Lake Wakatipu are never seen again: they disappear in the 1400 ft depth of the cold blue water. But Queenstown Bay, being shallow, can give up its dead. When this man w’as found, his pockets were empty, and there was nothing to show how he came to be in the lake. Mayhap he had spent his all foolishly, and then, finding nothing left, in utter despair had ended his own life. Or, mayhap, some boon companion, learning of his money, had stolen it and pushed the incapable victim off the end of the wharf. The Lake Ohau mystery made a great sensation at one time, and though this lake is just outside the bounds of Central Otago, the surroundings are so similar that W’e include the tale. Two station hands were sent in a boat up the lake to perform some work required. Some days later a shepherd found the boat thrown up on the beach, and near it the body of one man.

It w’as at first supposed that it was an ordinary accident, and that the boat had been capsized by a squall and the two men drowned. Two coffins werg sent up to the lake from the nearest town, but the second man’s body w’as never found. Then, on examination, it w’as found the first had not died from drow’ning, but from blows on the head with a blunt instrument, such as the back of an axe. Everything pointed to the probability of the dead man having been killed by his mate. A warrant of arrest for the second man was issued, and every effort was made to find him, but he was never seen again alive or dead. The extra coffin which had been sent up was left on the shores of the lake, and for years afterwards the station children, when making an excursion to the lake, used to play with it, while the boldest ones made a point of getting into it. Only after years of exposure, no body having been found to occupy it permanently, was it broken up and destroyed.

From "disappearances of men to those of gold is but a step. There are probably still many “ plants ” of gold in parts of the goldfields, hidden by old-time miners who afterwards went aw’ay or disappeared. At Gorge Creek there was once a lively canvas town know’n as Chamounix, to which reference has alreadv been made. It was the favourite resting place for the diggers from the Old Man Range, and there w r ere in it stores, grog shops, skittie alleys, but no bank. When the diggers brought down their gold, they generally sold it to a storekeeper named O’Brien. This mail had some objection to selling the gold again to the bank, and was generally believed to hide large quantities under the rocks near his store. When he died suddenly, the Curator of Intestate Estates took possession of his store and cash, but though he searched far and wide, could never discover the cranny where lay the hidden gold.

For many days the people about Gorge Creek used to search for O’Brien’s gold, but without success. However, it was noted that about the time of O’Brien’s death a local miner became suddenly rich, and ill-natured neighbours said he had found the missing gold. There were, on the other hand, so many fortunes made at that time—often in the course of a few’ months, and often from a source the w’hereabouts of which the owner refused to divulge—that such suggestions could carry no weight. The probability is that O’Brien’s gold is still lying snugly resting in a well-hidden cranny under some huge rock in Gorge Creek.

Mr Samuel Welsford, the last Mayor of Clyde, used to say he once received a letter from a man in an Italian prison about £lOOO supposed to be hidden on the Cairnmuir Range. It is possible the reference was to the £lOOO stolen from Skinner, the banker, which was never recovered. Perhaps even yet some scientist botanising or geologising amongst the rocks on those mountains may some day light upon that interesting “ plant.” The greatest tragedies known in Central Otago were the terrible results of the storms of 1863. Over sixty men in full health and vigour were carried aw’ay in one night by the cold waters of the flooded Shotoyer, and the same tempest swept aw’ay two score of men in the Arrow and Molyneux Rivers. The men who lost their lives in snowstorms in the ranges the same year could never be numbered. The story of those storms, so far as it can be collected from the records of the past, is told elsew’here. Here we only note that details of the number lost; who they were, w’hence they came, who w’ere their friends, and where their homes could never be given. Their names, their circumstances, and the manner of their passing slipped away into the Great Unknown.

The next chapter will be “The Molyneux Flood of 1878.”

“ Early Days in Central Otago ” will shortly be published in book form.