CHAPTER II. UP THE COAST.
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CHAPTER II.
UP THE COAST.
THE sun had scarcely streaked with light the eastern sky, on the morning of the twenty-fifth of April, 1866, when the noise of the catch passing over the palls of a wooden windlass, might have been heard on board the "Mary Ira." She was evidently making preparations for an immediate start, for one man was heaving up the anchor, another was setting the mainsail, a third nailed the handle firmly on the tiller, while the other two members of the crew were hauling
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over her side a small dingy (boat). Sam, who was the only passenger onboard, sat on the cabin hatch, smoking and listening to the crew who were so actively engaged in getting her under weigh.
"Come, Sam, you ain't hardly avake," said Harry.
"That's why I smokes, old chap."
"Come, give us a 'and, vill you?"
"You've got a heavy crew, Captain," said Sam, evasively, "for so small a craft. Why me and a boy could manage her!"
"Jist give a pull on the boat's painter, sir, vill you, her 'ed vants slewing round a leetle. There--that'll do it."
"Yes, Sam, she's handy enough. Hallo! She's off, isn't she Harry?"
"The anchor's up, me bwoise; vind 'er in sharp. She's away!" shouted Harry as he jumped to the tiller.
"Who the juice are y-you sh-shouting at," retorted Charlie, " d-do you think I d-don't know
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she's away. If so I guess y-yer t-tarnation m-mistaken--t-tarnation m-mistaken."
"That'll do now; none of that growling. Haul aft that jib-sheet, Charlie, and steer between the 'Curacoa' and the 'Eclipse' (two men of war). We'll 'bout ship when we get them well on our quarter. Keep her head as close to the wind as she'll go, Harry."
"Right you is, Cap'n. Vy the 'Siller Eaglet's' got her salt-horse flag up, sir. She's in a hurry, she is, to get away. The Skipper seeminli doesn't take kindly to the drubbin vich them boatmen gave 'im. My heyes it vos a joke, that was. After the ball, sir, he vos having a bit of a halterkation-like, vith von on 'em as vanted to take all the wissitors ashore in his own boat. The Skipper didn't see it, an' gives him just a leetle push on von side; so they all sets on him at vonce, an' gives him a reg'lar good malling, a svearing all the time as 'ow he vas the haggressor."
"Ready there, 'bout ship, helm's a lee."
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"She comes roun', sir, werry pruttee, don't she, in smooth vorter. Like a leetle top, she do?"
The vessel, having gone about, rapidly approached the Island of Rangitoto, which is the Maori for "Mountain of blood." It forms the most characteristic feature of Auckland Harbour, which it completely shuts in. It is about three miles in diameter, and rises gradually to a height of a thousand feet, with a crater-like summit, on which are clearly to be distinguished three nipples. It has, moreover, this peculiarity, that, if visible at all, it always presents the same appearance, from every point of view. There is but little vegetation on it. It's upper part being composed of huge masses of red scoria. Several rocky ledges extend off its western side.
"Now, Tony, we're ready for breakfast. Is that water boiling?"
"Yes. Will you have it on deck?"
"To be sure. Who'd think of going below, such a morning as this?"
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"You ain't going to ballast her at Drunken Bay, are you, Captain?"
"No, man; it would be too long a job. It would take all day with this dingy; she's uncommonly cranky, though. I shall take in more ballast at Munro's farm, where I shall put you ashore."
"You'd better come with me, Captain; and leave Harry to get her in order for her deep sea voyage. The country about Waikari, they say, is worth seeing. You'd enjoy it; and you may just as well fill up the time with a bit of a walk in the interior."
"Well, I don't mind if I do. How long shall you be about it?"
"Two or three days, sir."
"And what will you take with you?"
"A tent and a blanket, rolled up together."
"How about food?"
"Some ground coffee, a saucepan-coffee-pot, half-a-dozen biscuits, and a sausage."
"Is that all?"
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"A couple of biscuits and a mouthful of sausage a day is enough; besides, there's plenty of wild fruit, such as peaches and grapes, to be had in the bush, sir."
"You don't say so? Just clear away those things, will you, Tony?" said the Captain, as he went below to light his pipe.
There was a fine breeze, and the schooner soon after passed out from between Rodney Point and the Little Barrier Island into the open sea. Rodney Point forms one side of the truly magnificent entrance into the Pacific from the Huraki Gulf. It is the western portal, so to speak, of this broad road of green waters, by which vessels run out from the port of Auckland. It is bold and cliffy in the extreme, and is backed by Mount Hamilton, a remarkable hill, which looks like some double-headed monster, raising itself thirteen hundred feet aloft. On the opposite side of the Gulf, which is twelve miles wide, stands the other portal--the Little Barrier Island; it is four miles in diameter, and thickly
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wooded. Steep, and apparently inaccessible, it rises up almost perpendicularly into a multitude of lofty peaks, of from two to three thousand feet in height, whence it is often called "Mount many peaks."
"Hallo! there's a fore-and-aft schooner ahead of us," suddenly exclaimed Tony.
"It's only a rock, my lad; they calls it' Sail Rock,' on the chart, 'acause of it's zemblance to a sail," said Harry. "I suppose," continued he, addressing Sam, "you're up to all sorts of dodges for travelling up an' down the bush; but this 'ere place ain't zimilar to Horsetrailly. The land here is svompt vith vorter."
"I've travelled in the bush near as much as I have on sea, especially about Queensland."
"Queensland! Then you nose Brisbane?"
"Just a few, Harry; why, man, I've lived about Brisbane fer the last ten years."
"D'ye recomember a party as vos called the Songster."
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"Yes, I do; I was there when he discovered about the sapless pine."
"What!" said Tony, opening his eyes, "have the pine trees got no sap?"
"I'll tell you the story, me lad. There's a curious little insect at Brisbane as lives in the brackish water at the mouth of the river. It settles on the timbers of the small craft, what do the lightering business up and down the river, between the town and Moreton Bay, where the merchant ships anchor. This insect ain't no bigger than a pin's head at first; but as it slowly eats its way into the wood, it increases in size, and becomes as big as a marble. It completely honeycombs the bottoms of ships, though they looks all the time as sound as a bell."
"I've heared on't," said Harry, "they calls it the 'cobra; ' and I recomember as how they was a sheathing the lighter boats and wharfs with copper or zinc, to presarve'm."
"Yes, that's it," said Sam. "Well, Songster
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was once a sailing in his cutter; there was a nasty lop of a sea a running in from the nor'-east, and every indication of a breeze. He saw a vessel outside the bay, as was a trying to get to windward of Morton Island; he hadn't got more than a couple of miles or so past the lighthouse, when he heard her a firing guns of distress, and so he determined to run back to her assistance. As he tacked round a buoy, his cutter missed stays in the heavy seas, and was precious near driving on to a sand bank. Seeing his danger, he suddenly seized hold of a light kedge anchor, and flung it right on the top of the buoy; it fortunately held, and swung the cutter's head round on to the other tack. As soon as she got 'weigh on,' the kedge broke loose from the buoy, and as he hauled it in on board, he found a great piece of the buoy sticking to its flukes. The cutter soon reached the vessel, which was stuck hard and fast on a mud bank; he flung a rope to her, and the crew and passengers all got away just before she went to pieces. Having left them at
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the Bay, Songster began to examine the piece of the buoy, which, as I told you, was stuck to the kedge; a part of it had been made of cedar, and was now eaten away by the cobra; but the rest of it had been cut out of a block of sapless pine, and was perfectly uninjured. This wood smells some'ut like resin, and these insects can't abide its taste; so it has ever since been used as sheathing for the lighter boats and wharfage on the river, instead of them plates of copper and zinc, which are expensive. But where's your skipper, Harry? I guess he ought to alter her course a few points now."
The Captain had been packing up a small knapsack for his walking tour with Sam; having filled up all his spare room with onions and biscuits, he came on deck with Harry. They had made a very fair run of it, and were now within sight of the entrance to Whangari. At sundown, they anchored in a little bay on the north shore of the mouth of the harbour, close to Munro's farm. While furling the sails, Harry called
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attention to a rumbling noise in the direction of the town.
"Be silent, can't yer, me bwoise? Vot's that noise?"
"It's a steamer, but she's a long way off; what a death-like silence."
"Not so far off as you think, Captain; there's a bend in the river, which shuts in the sound," said Sam. "It's the 'Tasmanian Maid; ' she runs to Auckland and back, and stops here for letters, eggs, and butter."
"Tony, just light that bull's eye lantern; look alive, she's forging ahead fast."
"K-k-quick, yer y-young thief; what are you f-fumbling at. Sh-she'll be on the t-top on us as sure as s-snakes is snakes."
"All right, Charlie; here you are," said Tony, handing up the lantern, which was at once hung up in a conspicuous part of the fore-rigging.
"The steamer's stopt short, sir, and has dropped it's boat astarn; aye, and there's some
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one in it. Shouldn't wonder if it warn't old Munro."
"Your right. Well! we'll be off, too; lower away the boat."
"I'll row you ashore, sir," said Harry.
"You'll take your dog with you, won't you, sir?" said Sam, caressing the Captain's dog, a black Scotch colly, called Lupus. "He'll be useful in the bush."
"He'll eat more than he's worth, I guess."
The boat was now lowered over the schooner's side, and the Captain and Sam, with the dog, were landed on the beach by Harry.
"Well, Harry, good night to you; you must act as stevedore, and see to her ballasting. She wants trimming down well aft; fill up the water casks, and if you have time before we return, get in a good supply of fire wood."
"Aye, aye, sir; and her rigging wants overhauling. Good night."
The Captain and Sam walked along the beach,
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passing several little farmsteads, store-houses, and even a post office, on their way to Munro's farm, where they intended to beg for lodgings for the night. Mr. Munro, who had just that instant arrived at his house by the "Tasmanian Maid," received them at once, with that cordial hospitality which it is the pride of a New Zealand settler to bestow. He was a kind-hearted, fine looking old man--a hardened specimen of the Gaelic race--assuming almost a patriarchal influence and position over those who formed this charming settlement of Highlanders. He had lived here surrounded by his clan for many years His house was a simple, but commodious one, built of wood, and facing one of the most picturesque bays in the harbour; on one side of it stood several of those strangely shaped mountains, the sharp escarpments of which, with their comically jagged outlines, seem peculiar to New Zealand scenery. Behind, some good pasture land rose up into high fern ranges, overlooked by an old native "pah," or sugar-loaf hill, which had
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once been strongly fortified with Maori earth works. They were invited to partake of an excellent supper, and while it was being prepared, two or three neighbouring settlers dropped in.
"Sae dow yer sit doon," said Mr. Munro, "an' tak soom damperr an' chaze, till beterr meat's mad r'dy."
Fried fish, cold peach pie, and cream, cheese and damper (a sort of doughy bread), were washed down with some capital whiskey. There had just taken place a great cricket match and the Whangari eleven had returned from the Bay of Islands where they had been victorious for the first time.
"Aweel, I ken little aboot it, but a body tould ma y'r w'r na' sotisfied wi' bating 'em at cricket, but maun gar, quotha, an' insurlt 'em at th'r oon dinner boord."
"All chaff, sir; all chaff. One of us gave 'em a comic song. Thought it too personal. Got up, left table. Thin skinned chaps."
"Ah!" said Sam," there are some good folks
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as can't stand chaff. There was Elisha, now."
"Don't know him. Live up in town?"
"No. Him that turned the bears loose on the children. Ain't you read your--"
"Tak soom moorr speerits, mon, an' drop that," said Munro.
"Thank you, sir. So you beat them at the election last month, I'm glad to hear it."
"Aye, mon, I w'ss trysted wi the m'fortun' o' being clink'd uppermaist, sae that I'm the mimb'r f'r Whangarie noo."
This gave rise to a discussion on colonial politics. It was suggested that all the native lands should be assumed to belong to the government, unless under actual cultivation, and that this land should be sold by auction, at a reserve of four shillings an acre only, instead of ten shillings as it is now; and that the settlers should be left to maintain possession of it (if they could), by military combinations among themselves, against the Maories. This gave general
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satisfaction, and, as the whiskey disappeared, the new member pledged himself to carry this suggestion, and several others, through the house. Sam discovered that the settler who sat next him was the very man who had been employed by government to survey the new district; he there fore laid himself out to him, as much as possible, in order to obtain from him information about the positions of the best patches of land. In the meantime the others were discussing the subject of Titaniferous Iron Ore, whether or not the probabilities were in favour of its ever becoming an article of export to Great Britain.
"It's a black sand, sir, granulated like gunpowder, found on the shores at New Plymouth, Taranaki, Mount Egmont, and perhaps some other places, and it produces a tough iron of first rate quality."
"Aye, I heard a story of an Irishman who sold a bag of it to a Maori Chief, pretending as it was gun-powder. The Maori had been at him a long while, teasing him to sell him some
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powder, though it was illegal for him to sell any. The Irishman was so much in their hands that he could not afford to offend their chief, he also suspected foul play, so he filled a bag with this sand, and sold it to him at a tremendous high price, as though it was gunpowder. The chief immediately took it to the authorities, hoping to gain a large reward, for informing upon the Irishman. Well, sir, the Irishman was summoned. The evidence was as clear as noonday. The Commissioners had summed up, and the verdict was about to be pronounced, when to the astonishment of everybody, sir, the prisoner bursts into regular shouts of laughter, calling them all 'a parcel of miserable old women as didn't know gun-powther from block sond.'"
At length the settlers departed for the night, and Mr. Munro, addressing the Captain and Sam, said--
"Weel, weel. Coom, awa, wi you; I'll jist shoo ye y'r beds f'r the noight, an' nixt mornnen, may be, I'll be f'r gieing ye a notion o' the
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noo deestrict o' Waikari, an' o' the surest gate to-words it. Gude night."
"Thank you, for your kindness," said they, in return, as they closed the crazy old door of a queer looking garret, in which were two still more crazy looking bedsteads. Here they lay down ostensibly to sleep, but in reality to listen to the awful howlings of poor Lupus outside, and to be devoured by crowds of mosquitoes all night.
