1875 - Carter, C. R. Life and Recollections of a New Zealand Colonist. Vol. III. [NZ sections only] - CHAPTER VIII. PERSONAL MATTERS HASTEN MY DEPARTURE TO NEW ZEALAND...p 92-99

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CHAPTER VIII.

NO sooner had I returned from Paris to London, than I commenced to finally pack up for a long journey to New Zealand. This course was rendered necessary by there being no immediate prospect of a settlement of the Wharf and Slip dispute then still pending between the Messrs. Kennards and the Provincial Government of Wellington. One of the firm, Mr. Howard Kennard, had gone out and arrived in Wellington; but this gentleman only widened the breach instead of repairing it. So I resolved to at once return to the Colony to assist in procuring an amicable adjustment of the existing differences. My own private affairs also required my presence in Wellington: besides these matters, Kennards' dispute had become personally painful to myself, for I had been informed that Mr. H. Kennard had--in Wellington--greatly misrepresented the information, respecting the nature of the ground or foundations of the site of the proposed Slip in Evans's Bay, which I had--from memory--in an unofficial capacity and as one contractor, friendly to another, would do--freely given to

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his firm. This dispute worried me and made me despondent and very anxious: for I felt that all the trouble and anxiety I had had with the Wharf, Wanganui Bridge and the Patent Slip were likely to be unproductive of good results, in fact thrown away. I think that had Mr. H. K. remained in England the dispute could have been terminated to the satisfaction of both parties. When he first arrived in Wellington, as the representative of an important firm of London Contractors and the son of a Member of Parliament, he was looked upon as a great man and treated and believed as a gentleman. I, on the contrary, being neither great nor wealthy, and, what was worse, absent--was lukewarmly defended by my friends and seriously discredited by my political opponents. However it was not long before the public, in Wellington, began to see through Mr. H. K., as may be seen from the following extract from a letterwritten by a political opponent of mine, but a kind-hearted Irishman--the Proprietor and Editor of a Wellington Newspaper--and forwarded to me in England, when, as I had left, it was sent out to me in Wellington.

As a last English consolation on the above topic, and a lasting token of esteem from a high quarter, on the very day that I left London for New Zealand I received the letter herewith appended, from G. E. Stephenson, the eminent engineer, with whom, as I stated in the preceding volume,

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I was associated in arranging for the contract of the Iron Bridge for Wanganui. In this work he did me the honor to consult me on some of the constructive details of the bridge-- of the whole of the material for which I superintended the shipping at the East India Docks. The firm of Messrs. Kennard supplied the material for the bridge and contracted also for its erection in New Zealand. Here again Mr. H. K. raised a dispute about the foundations and got out of his contract for erecting it, as he likewise did for the Patent Slip. Now that I write the Wanganui Bridge has been erected without the assistance of the great firm of contractors, and this year (1872) I had the pleasure of procuring the insertion of a photographic view of it in the Illustrated London News.

The following is a copy of Mr. Stephenson's letter:--

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A NEW ZEALAND COLONIST.

Late in the evening of the 1st of July, 1867, myself, wife and daughter (and some friends going out with us) were at the Waterloo Station waiting for the train to start and take us on the first stage of our journey to Wellington in New Zealand. I was standing by a portion of our luggage on the trucks, to see that it was properly placed in the luggage van, when the Inspector at the luggage office told me not to mind it, for he would see it ticketed and placed in the train all right. At 9 o'clock the train moved off, and we bade adieu to old friends who had come with us to the station to bid us good-bye. After then we passed the Clock Tower of the Houses of Parliament; next the Victoria Tower of ditto, both looming large and lonely--in a dusky atmosphere--from across the river. Then we looked on the myriads of spectre-like chimney-pots and the tiled roofs below us and on a level with us, and soon was London lost to our view. Silent were our meditations: sorrowful were our thoughts at leaving, apparently, for the last time the greatest of Great Cities, where we had spent so many agreeable days. As I took a last look, I asked myself if we should ever see London again; but this was a question I could not then answer.

In due time we arrived at Southampton, and quickly we found that we had lost our luggage. It was not in the train. What had become of it? At near midnight, I telegraphed back to Waterloo Station to enquire if it had been left there. At 6 o'clock next morning the answer came, and was--"It is not at Waterloo." I telegraphed to other places connected with the line. In half an hour came a second telegram, curtly announcing-- "It is gone to Jersey." This was unpleasant news. It was more than that, it was excessively annoying and inconvenient; for the lost luggage contained our wardrobe wanted on the voyage, my private papers, and our valuables in the shape of jewellery and other articles. What was to be done? Stop and lose our passage, already paid for? The steamer

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was to sail at three in the afternoon of the same day. A decision was soon come to. I decided not to be left behind. We purchased a second outfit of only necessary clothing: I arranged for the lost luggage to be forwarded on to us in New Zealand; and on the afternoon of the second of July we embarked on board the Royal Mail paddle-wheel steam-ship "Atrato," 3126 tons burthen, with 800-horse power, and capable of carrying 394 passengers.

The first day's voyage was fine. I may say the same of all the others up to the 16th of July, when we cast anchor in the harbor of St. Thomas in the West Indies. This little voyage of 3581 miles in a fortnight, or at the average rate of about 255 miles a-day, was the pleasantest sea passage I had ever undertaken. The "Atrato," with her great beam and gigantic paddle-wheels, steamed along steadily all the way: so much so, that, for once in my life, I was not troubled with sea-sickness. The saloon of the "Atrato" was grand and spacious, and with fresh fish, poultry, flesh, vegetables and bread supplied to the table all the way--made one feel almost as comfortable as if living in a first-class hotel in London.

The Isle of St. Thomas is a small barren hilly island, twelve miles in length, three in breadth. It derives its principal importance from the harbor on its southern side. The harbor is considered good for the West Indies: yet it is but a deep small bay about 2 1/2 miles in depth, and 1 1/2 in width. It is open to the sea at one end and surrounded by hills at the other end and two sides. However, the position of the island and the harbor, such as it is, have made it a principal station of the Royal Mail Steam Packets. The capital of the island, Charlotte-Amalie, is here, and being a free port, between three and four thousand vessels of all nations are yearly attracted here, and the place has become a depot, for merchandise, of great importance The island belongs to Denmark, and contains about 15,000 inhabitants.

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The town is seated at the bottom of the Bay. The houses forming the town are clustered on the beach and in the hollows, but mostly on the slopes of three spurs running from the hills which form the shores of this part of the harbour of St. Thomas. Where the buildings rise one above another on the three spurs, and are conspicuous by their red roofs and white walls, the town has a very pretty and picturesque appearance--when seen from the deck of a steamer in the harbour. When we landed, strange sights presented themselves. Most of the people we saw were black--swarthy crowds as

thick as berries on an English blackberry hedge. The shops and houses were mostly two-stories in height: the lower one being built of stone, the upper one of wood and provided with a shingled roof. A few of the two storied houses were constructed of brick. Generally speaking the houses were painted, outside--in pink, yellow or white colors. The shops had no glass to the windows, but mostly green louvred casements inside, and light blue solid shutters to the outside, which closed and fastened at night. The town--from the burrows I saw in the streets--seemed pestered with rats. The country,

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too, like other hot countries, was teeming with insect life. People here rise by daylight in the morning and take coffee; then breakfast at 10, and dinner in the cool of the evening. Boarding and lodging at the Hotels cost 2 1/2 dollars (10s. 6d.) per day. Hair cutting was the most expensive operation. A friend of mine and myself entered a shop to have our heads shampooed and hair cut. The hairdresser was a black artist. His scissors and hair brush were worn and old; but he operated on my friend's head in a most satisfactory manner. I thought it wise to ask the cost of this cooling operation replete with delicious sensations; so I said to our cool, civil, and nonchalant hairwasher, hairdresser, and beard-cutter, "What do you charge for the cutting and shampooing process you have performed on my friend?" He blandly replied, "One dollar sir." "Indeed," I remarked; "do you charge 4s. 2d. for cutting hair and shampooing? It must be a joke." He replied, "No! No! sir, dat his de usual price to gentlemen." "Then," I enquired, "what do you charge those persons who are not "gentlemen." "All the same; but you need not be shampooed, and, in that case, you can have your hair cut for half a dollar" (2s. 1d.). My friend paid his dollar, and I quitted the shop without being operated upon.

In the main street I saw black carpenters, black painters, and black laborers, at work. On small plots of ground, in the streets, cocoanut, tamarind, banana trees were growing. In one garden were acacia trees resplendent and loaded with gorgeous scarlet flowers. Formerly there were sugar plantations on the island; but very little sugar cane is grown here now.

While we were staying at the island of St. Thomas, one of R. Mail boats, the "Tyne," came in with a number of passengers ill of the Chagres fever, and the Mail Agent dead from it. This was not encouraging for us; but we were thankful that we had not long to stay at St. Thomas' and its yellow fever associations, for late on the afternoon of the 17th we left

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St. Thomas in the steamer "Solent," 1689 tons burthen and 400-horse power. Before dark, we had passed several small islands on our right. July 18th was fine, but with a nasty cross sea rolling and pitching us about. The 19th was ditto; and by this time we had found out that the "Solent" was an intercolonial boat--old and dirty, with a crew nearly all blacks, and with sable stewards to wait upon us at table. On the 20th we were still crossing the Caribbean Sea, in hot weather--with occasional lightning--and feeling the effects of a close and clammy atmosphere. The evenings were the best. The Captain and his officers (all British) were social. The atmosphere was cooler, and we had instrumental and vocal music to entertain us.

On Sunday, the 21st we sighted Colon on the Isthmus of Panama, and anchored a little way from the shore. Next day we went alongside the wharf, and landed at Colon, a small seaport town in the State of New Granada, South America.