THE FRENCH PASS.

Wellington Independent, Volume XXVIII, Issue 3856, 14 July 1873, Page 3

THE FRENCH PASS.

AN EXTRACT FROM A PASSENGER'S IiETTER. In sailing from Nelson to Picton, you are aware that there is a narrow channel 9 to pass through, formed by the close vicinity to the mainland of an island called D'TJrville. It is called the French Pass. The narrowest part of the channel is not more than 500 yards wide, and is further narrowed to 110 by shoals and by a rocky ledge bare at low water. At ebb and flow a very strong tide runs through this channel, and at high springs it attains a t velocity of many miles per hour, and when at ita height it appears to boil and swirl and seeth as if the rocky bottom was oyer a raging furnace. This passage is a short cut to Picton, and is not ordinarily attempted by night, except when moonlight and the tide- suits — at least, not by prudent, mariners, for the hazard is too , great to rislelli^fe and property for the aake of a few houra' advantage in time. Being moonlight, and the tide favoring, the steamer left Nelson at about 5.30 p.m., and we ran the gauntlet about 11. We did not see the Pass in its grand fury, when springtides rush through the channel in the face of a strong gale. On the contrary, the water was comparatively , smooth, and the wind, what little there Was, was in pur favor. Tet if was a beautiful sight— hot exactly sublime, for that

necessitates a grand commotion of the elements. It was a scene awesome and weird. The feeble moonbeans struggling through the misty clouds shed a dim light on the scene. The rocky shores were undistinguishable except as bleak masses, save where their jagged and sharp outline was seen against the sky, and here and there abrupt headlands jutted out and caught the moon's lighb ; but the small bays were swallowed up in impenetrable gloom. Gradually from the undistinguishable rocky shore the troubled waters spread out and emerged from the shadows of the land, and shone like frosted silver in the light reflected from the sky. Occasionally the moon, piercing a rent in the clouds, lit up the projecting rocks and ruffled waters with jets of silvery light. Meanwhile the steamer glided witnmysteriousapeed through the glancing watei*, which seemed to boil round her sides not furiously, but with fearful quiet in large upheavings of whirling rings of water like confused bubbles, which rapidly overlapped each other in confusing order, and were swept onward by the overpowering flood. Sometimes circles of glassy water, smooth as a mirror, would spread out and disappear in the surrounding gloom, succeeded by fantastic concentric rings sharply graven on the liquid surface, in their turn to be swept away and rapidly succeeded by other strange devices issuing from the mysterious deep. Gradually the narrows of the Pass was reached, and the rush of the tide, hitherto smooth as molten glass, wa3 seen to break into foam over the submerged reef of rocks which, at once a danger and a guide, forms the Pass ; and the gallant ship, urged by both tide and screw, fairly shuddered as she glided in the quickening flood and felt ita power. Captain Carey stood on the bridge giving directions to the officer and his assistant at the wheel, and the word's "port," "starboard," or "steady," were implicitly obeyed as the exigency of the moment required. In a few moments we got into the thick of the surging tide, where the converging waters rush through the rocky jawa of the Pass. Though well in hand, the ship could not at times withstand the great strength of tho current when it swerved from its straight course, sweeping in grand circles like the convolutions of some huge legendary serpent. At such periods neither helm nor screw availed against such mighty forces : she would swerve till another bend in the current brought her right again. We seemed to rush through or rather with the troubled flood, and soon left the Pass behind and emerged into comparatively open water, where the tortured currents exhausted their force by spreading out beyond the iron-bound channel from which they so recently escaped. The French Pass by moonlight is a most desirable spectacle to witness. It has that element of danger which gives a zest to all adventures, while with a good steamship beneath you, manned by a good captain, officers, and crew, the element of safety preponderates and gives that comparative freedom from fear of consequences which enables the most prudent to witness a sight which will form an incident of some moment in the life of the most prosaic individual. To a person with a spice of sentiment and freedom from sea-sickness, the passage of the French Pass by moonlight is of course more enjoyable and bett»r appreciated ; but to any person it is a sight which should not willingly be missed. After witnessing this fascinating scene I turned in on my narrow shelf, reposing like a geological specimen in a case in the Museum, and slept like a fossil till the gallant ship entered the heads of Wellington harbor, a harbor unequalled in my opinion in New Zealand for position, easy access, and safety, and destined at no distant day to be the grand entrepot of foreign trade.