MONGONUI.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume X, Issue 14, 8 April 1893, Page 316

MONGONUI.

“X TTHEN the colony was divided into counties, the y y most northern of them all, the Ultima Thule of

New Zealand-if we except the islands that lie to the north of Cape Reinga—was Mongonui. The county has no longer an existence, but the little township which bears its name will be found cosily nestling in a little arm of Doubtless Bay, right under the 35th parallel of latitude. It is an out-of-the-way corner of the world, where the inhabitants make an easy living by storekeeping, gumdigging, and cattle running and agriculture on a small scale. The township can boast of few architectural ornaments, but it possesses the three things necessary for every New Zealand township—a church, a school, and an hotel. It has also postal and telegraphic communication with larger centres of population, so that the dwellers by the calm waters of Doubtless Bay can hear from time to time those murmurs from the outer world, with which they can personally communicate by means of a good steamer service if they get tired of their seclusion. But though art has not done much for Mongonui compared with the wonders she has wrought in other districts of the colony, nature has been peculiarly kind to her. She has given her one of the prettiest and safest harbours in New Zealand, a delightful climate, and made her the gateway to several fertile valleys in the interior such as the Oruru and Victoria. But there is more to be said of the little township than’ ,to enumerate its natural resources. Mongonui is an historical place. It was one of the first places visited by Europeans. Here, on the 9th of December, 1769, * England’s greatest Argonaut,’ Cook, dropped anchor in the still waters of Doubtless Bay. This was just two months after the famous sailor had re-dis-covered New Zealand, and set foot on shore where Cisborne now stands. There is a great deal of interest attached to this visit of Captain Cook’s to the site of Mongonui. His ship, the Endeavour, was the first European vessel to enter the bay, but only the first by about a fortnight or so. Eight days after he had left a French ship, the St. Jean Baptiste, was lying in Doubtless Bay. Her captain, De Surville, had heard it reported in India, whence he had jnst come, that the English had discovered an island 2000 miles west of South America which answered the description of El Dorado. His imagination, no doubt, conjured up the wildest visions of the gold he would reap for adventuring so far in search of the new land. It is said the crew expected to find the gold lying piled up on the beach ready for them to carry away. Needless to say he did not find things exactly as he had expected. The consequence was he was disappointed, and determined to leave the new country. But just as he was on the point departure one of the boats belonging to the >B7. Jean Baptiste was missing. De Surville concluded that the Maoris, who all along had treated him and his crew most kindly, were the thieves. He instituted no inquiries, but having enticed the chief on board, made him a prisoner, and burnt all the huts of his people. He then set sail for Peru with the chief still on board. The poor old native—Mihonui was his name—sighed for beloved Mongonui, and soon sickened and died. De Surville himself,did not long survive his brutal treatment of the Maoris. When landing at

Callao the boat conveying him to the shore was capsized in the surf, and he himself drowned. W hen we next hear of Mongonui is about twenty or thirty years after the departure of the French. Doubtless Bay was then a frequent place of call for the English whalers who were plying their calling in the Pacific. The bay often presented a busier aspect in those days than it does now, for although the Bay of Islands was the great resort of the sailors, not a few found their way to

the snug little cove where the township of Mongonui now lies. A good deal of the history of the whaling epoch is best passed over. The whalers, though sometimes firstclass fellows, were too often not the best specimens for the Maoris to judge civilised humanity from. Mongonui at that time may have been a livelier place than it is now, but it was only semi-civilised at best. Now it is a slowly but steadily progressive township that is destined one day—by virtue of its harbour and the land behind it—to be a place of importance.