Reminiscences of an Old Settler in Australia and New Zealand [Selected chapter

John Webster

First published by Whitcombe and Tombs in 1908

Digitised and made available online by the University of Auckland Libraries and Learning Services.

Epub © 2013 Early New Zealand Books Collection

ISBN 978-1-927289-53-2

[FRONTISPIECE]

JOHN WEBSTER.

[TITLE PAGE]

REMINISCENCES
OF AN OLD SETTLER IN
AUSTRALIA AND NEW ZEALAND

BY
JOHN WEBSTER, J.P.,
OPONONI, HOKIANGA.

CHRISTCHURCH, WELLINGTON AND DUNEDIN, N.Z.;
MELBOURNE AND LONDON:
WHITCOMBE AND TOMBS LIMITED.
1908.

[Page ii is blank]

[PREFACE]

PREFACE.

Mr. Webster has kindly asked me to preface with a few words the interesting reminiscences now before the reader.

He finds that the ninety years which have crowded round him have brought with them the accompaniments of failing memory and difficulty in adding anything to his previous literary work.

These reminiscences appear at the earnest wish of Mr. Webster's family and numerous friends who rightly consider that incidents not only eventful but of an historical kind should not be allowed to perish. Amongst these must be counted his two journeys of 1839 and 1840 across the desert wastes of Australia when driving cattle from Sydney to Adelaide seventy years ago. Here he is enrolled amongst those earliest pioneers and discoverers who were then distinguished by the appellation of "overlanders."

The journey was of 2,000 miles and of four months' duration performed in the face of incessant hardship and danger. Most of these overlanders were gentlemen filled with the spirit of adventure. Travel-stained though they might be they yet essayed to enter the infant

city of Adelaide, then but three or four years old, with some dash and some remnants of that finery in which they had originally started – boots and tops and sombrero hats decorated with feathers. For the dangers they had passed and the stories they could tell they were received with acclamation by the small society, and were made welcome at Government House and to the entertainments given in their honour.

Part of Mr. Webster's last track seems to have been an entirely new one, and it would be interesting to plot it out on the map and see if his name-giving remains and if he is not thus entitled to the role of discoverer as well as that of pioneer.

Another incident is that of his connection with Hone Heke's war as a volunteer in company with his friend Maning and under Tamati Waka Nene, the friendly ally of the English soldiers. His account discloses some new points and gives further information.

Here, unfortunately, his reminiscences close with now no power to add to them. No one regrets this more than Mr. Webster himself, and that the present duty was not undertaken five and twenty years ago together with the reproduction of some of those pen and ink sketches which so adorn his note-books.

Soon after Heke's war Mr. Webster opened a trade with the natives, acting as agent for the firm of Messrs. Brown and Campbell, of Auckland, the latter of whom as Sir John

Logan Campbell, still remains with us. Trade becoming depressed throughout the colony, he repaired to California, there remaining for eighteen months. He then sailed from the "Golden Gates" of San Francisco in June 1851 for the South Sea Islands with his friend Captain Benjamin Boyd, owner of the ill-fated yacht schooner The Wanderer of 240 tons.

The voyage extended over five months, and many of its stirring incidents Mr. Webster has reproduced in those beautiful water colours which now hang as treasured possessions on his walls at Opononi. On reaching Guadalcanar, one of the Solomon Islands, Captain Boyd proceeded on shore alone, and, as he did not return, a search party was despatched only to discover proofs of his having been murdered and dragged into the bush by the natives. His body was not found and the distressed voyagers at once sailed for Australia, where additional calamity befel them. The weather was bad, and whilst endeavouring to enter Macquarie Harbour, the schooner was totally wrecked. Mr. Webster published at Sydney in 1858 an account of this disastrous voyage in a small volume now sufficiently rare, entitled "The Last Cruise of the Wanderer."

After trying his luck for a time as a gold-digger in the newly-discovered goldfields of Australia, he visited the Home Country, and finally returned to New Zealand in 1855, permanently settling on the Hokianga, where

for many years he was engaged in the timber trade.

Here he married the daughter of Mr. G. F. Russell, one of the oldest settlers on the river. This lady died many years ago, leaving several sons and daughters who are chiefly settled with or near their father.

His hospitable home, filled with the various collections of a long life, has always been the resort of successive governors and of other distinguished people who were attracted to the district. His constant friend and near neighbour was F. E. Maning, author of "Old New Zealand," who was his senior by but seven years.

Such is a slight sketch of Mr. Webster's long and interesting career, and it but remains for his friends to express the sincere hope that some years yet remain before him to be filled with the agreeable retrospect of a well-spent life and the continued respect and admiration of his numerous well-wishers.

T. M. HOCKEN.

Dunedin, July, 1908.

CHAPTER I.

REMINISCENCES

OF AN OLD SETTLER IN

AUSTRALIA AND NEW ZEALAND.

CHAPTER I.

"Why don't you write your reminiscences?" has been often asked me. Perhaps it is because I am an old man, having lived in five reigns, for George the Third was alive when I was born on 30th June, 1818, in a seaport town of Scotland (Montrose), full of quaint old people, old manners and superstitions. The dawn of what may be called perception came when I was a baby about a year old, when at night a candle moving about left certain shadows which I thought was a living entity. I remember well when I was two years old, at a christening of my younger brother, George, I was seated on a small stool, and saw my grandfather walking up and down the room. I observed his dress, which consisted of dress coat of the period, bright blue, with brass buttons, yellow vest, frilled shirt, and knee breeches, with buckles in

his shoes. He was in form for the christening, which was performed in the house by Dr. Patterson, who had a very loud voice, and I was afraid of him when he patted me on the head.

Years passed and I went to school, and how glorious school life was as I got accustomed to it and old enough to play 'kick baa,' as we termed it! There was no picking up the ball and running away with it like the modern game, but honest kicking, and the best team won of course. That was but one game. We had many others. The Grammar School was opposite the Academy, where we learned writing and arithmetic under Mr. Kay, Latin under Mr. Calvert, and above was the Rector, who lectured on astronomy and the sciences.

There were two teachers of writing and arithmetic in separate schools in the Academy, and in winter they had great fighting with snowballs, with varied success. Our opponents' school was Mr. Beattie's, and our school was taught by Mr. Hay. We built snow houses also, and sat in them, feeling no cold, for our young blood throbbed through our veins in delightful pulsations. When old enough to use skates, that was another grand exercise. Near the Montrose hospital was a large fresh-water swamp, frozen over in winter. There on a moonlight night did we stay until near ten o'clock, at which hour we were supposed to be in bed. We had to go through the churchyard before reaching the town, and all were very superstitious at that

time, for the servant maids of the period tried, and succeeded, on every occasion in instilling into our minds that there were witches and warlocks who were lying in wait everywhere to do mortal boys, girls, and men injury of one sort or another, and we believed in them, for who did not in these old days? Was there not John o' Arnha, who met a witch going home one night, and on seeing John mounted a broom stick and flew away? And had not John a fight with a water kelpie aided by witches? The water kelpie came out of the North Esk river, and was described as a huge monster with horns and the tail of a crocodile. In passing through the churchyard to get home we boys shouted loud (in fear), and made as much noise as possible till we passed the auld kirk and got to the Town Hall and out into the main street of the town. Where we lived and I was born was nearly opposite the Town Hall.

I like to write about my school days. In summer we had a fortnight's vacation, and I was permitted to go to the country with my elder brother, who, by-the-bye, never joined us in sports like other boys, but was always serious and liked to be alone. However, I enjoyed the country visits. They were friends of the family, and it was always harvest time when we went there. There was no machinery then for cutting the wheat and oat crops, but the Irishmen came over in droves to cut the harvest with reaping hooks. I was very friendly with them, and when

they found a partridge nest with eggs in it they always gave them to me, and sometimes they found a squeaking young hare, which was protected, and they had to let it go. The Irish lived on potatoes and brose, and sometimes got a "whang" of cheese. Brose was simply oatmeal in a wooden cap (so called), and boiling water poured on it. Rarely, and as a treat, the water in which meat had been boiled was given them to make the brose. They had also milk occasionally, and sturdy fellows they seemed on that simple fare. These Irish wore blue frieze coats, like swallow-tail coats, and knee breeches. Some had stockings and shoes, others had simply a wisp of straw on their legs, but a merry lot they were, and I liked them.

On the hills were found what were called blaeberries. I presume the proper name was bilberries, and they were very plentiful. Parties from Forfar would come and fill tin cans with the berries, and take them home. As for me, I not only ate them, but daubed my trousers with the juice to show my envious schoolfellows where I had been.

A fortnight in the country soon passed away, and school days again were experienced. When I returned from the west I pretended to talk as broad Doric as possible, to show I had been "awa wast," and my "breeks" had the blaeberry stamp to show my schoolfellows.

Now we scholars of the Academy always got a holiday when the whalers, of which there were

three, viz., the "London," "Swan," and "Spencer," arrived, but we had to get the Provost's consent. We had the Provost's son in our school, and he headed a deputation always. Of course we got a day off to see the whalers arrive in the harbour. They always arrived together. On the mast-head they had garlands of ribbons along with a joint of fresh meat, which they had taken with them and brought back still fresh, for they soon got into intense cold, and returned before the ice closed them in, which was not infrequent, and then in that case there was weeping and wailing in the household of the imprisoned seamen who were ice-bound for the season. The families were cared for by the owners of the ships. It was seldom they were ice-bound, but came to time usually full ships of blubber, with jaws of whales and whalebone. Of course we Academy boys were privileged, and boarded the ships when they came to the quay, and saw the hatches taken off and the blubber exposed, and got hard brown biscuits from the sailors, which we ate with voracity, for we could eat anything as schoolboys of that period.

The whale ship period was not the only time we got holidays from the Provost. The election of a member of Parliament was a rare occasion, and we did enjoy the contest, for the school boys, of course, took sides, and our mothers gave us ribbon favours to wear according as they selected candidates.

Ladies always selected the best looking candidate, and my mother selected Ross, of Rossie Castle, my father's favourite also. Those were the days of what you may call bribery and corruption. Our favourite colour was red, white, and blue, which we wore on our jackets. The other candidate had but a few followers in Montrose, and the dark blues had not a show with the red, white, and blue. The time was just before the passing of the Reform Bill of 1832.

Both candidates had bands, and both used the common practice of bribery. Ross was at home. His opponent was a landed proprietor. His estate was called "Auldbar," near Brechin, in Forfarshire. They both were in favour of Reform, and the only words I recollect of the speeches were "the Bill and nothing but the Bill," but we boys did not understand what it meant, only we were nearly all for Ross of Rossie, where we were permitted to look for birds' eggs and see the Castle of Rossie.

Before election day Ross rode in his chariot through the town. He had a bag full of silver and copper coin which he now and then threw in handfuls on the streets, and now and again he would let fly bank notes as he drove along. Then I presume Auldbar did the same at Brechin. Both candidates had also casks of ale on the streets before public-houses, and a man with tap supplied all thirsty voters. We Academy boys were not allowed to pick up any coin or drink any of the beer offered.

On the platform on election day we had great fun, as the different bands fought with each other, and destroyed all their respective instruments. And when Auldbar came off the hustings he was carried on the shoulders of his friends to the Star Hotel, but before he reached it he was spat upon, and covered with all kinds of filth, as was the custom of the period. Of course Ross of Rossie was elected, for Montrose had the majority of electors. Joseph Hume was a Montrose man, and afterwards was a man of mark, and a member of Parliament, as well as a friend of Prince Albert's.

Great storms often occurred in Montrose, and I, with a few other boys, always tried to get a holiday on account of the weather. We were sometimes successful, and then we would hie down to the entrance of the harbour, especially when we heard of any vessel being off the harbour waiting for a chance to enter. There is a bar called the Annet at the entrance, and in shore is a lighthouse, where the lifeboats are kept. In place of being at school, as our parents thought, and if we got a holiday, in place of going home, a few of us would hie to the lighthouse and see the lifeboats floated, and in drenching rain. Sometimes the small craft, mostly from the West Indies with fruit, would safely cross the bar. At other times they would get in the breakers. Then was the time the lifeboats did their duty, and the bugs or schooners were left amongst the breakers, and

their cargo scattered along the beach. Of oranges we boys had a stomach full, but on getting home, all soaking wet, we got a thrashing.

The Reform Bill was passed by both Lords and Commons in 1832, and there was a great demonstration in Montrose. Of course we schoolboys did not know anything about the rights or wrongs of the Bill, but we all marched in procession, wearing medals (struck for the occasion), with the Masons also wearing their regalia, my father amongst them; and there were public dinners and great rejoicing worthy of the occasion.

About this time there were rumours of body-snatching, and watchmen were put in graveyards when fresh interments took place. A doctor (quite a young man), of the name of White was caught in a country burial-ground called Hill Head, and with a recently-buried corpse in his possession. He was lodged in gaol, and was tried at the Town Hall for the offence. As he was brought from the gaol, or tolbooth as it was then called, a lot of people assembled near the Town Hall to see him pass. When he appeared near the Hall a number of fish-wives had gathered to see him, and carried stones in their garments to throw at him. Now women, as a rule, are bad shots, and as the young doctor was brought along between two gaolers in red coats and gold-laced hats of the period, the stones thrown by the women knocked off the hat

of William Bennett, the principal gaoler. Several stones of course reached the unfortunate doctor, but the representatives of law and order fared as badly.

A budding poet of the period, after much labour, delivered himself of the following ditty on the occasion in broad Scotch: –

Doctor White, o' the Hill Heed,
Got his breed by hoorkin the deed.

In English, of course, it would read in ordinary words: –

Doctor White, of the Hill Head,
Got his bread by digging the dead.

Shortly afterwards there came to the knowledge of the Edinburgh authorities the sensational murders of Burke and Hare, assisted by their accomplice, the woman McDougall. Burke was hanged. Hare turned King's evidence, and was set free, and I never heard what his after fate was or that of the woman. Dr. Knox, who purchased the bodies, must have known how they were killed. The disappearance of a well-known character in the streets of Edinburgh, viz., Daft Jamie (as he was called), led to the detection of Burke and Hare.

Many of my schoolfellows, as they grew up, went to sea, and several went into the Navy. I was jealous of these latter, who were all older than myself. They would appear as midshipmen in their uniform and cutlass, to the envy

of the younger boys. One or two entered the Army, and I remember one of the eldest, the son of a public official named Burness, who went to India, and was some years afterwards killed at Khaiber Pass with many others.

Montrose was a quaint old town, and had many quaint ways. At the New Year there were lots of people who went from house to house, and asked for what they called their "Hogmanay." They trolled forth the following ditty: –

Up stocks doon stules,
Dinna think that we are fules;
We are bairns come to play,
Get up an' gies oor Hogmanay.
The day 'ill come when you'l be deid,
Ye'll winna care for meal or breid,
Rise up guid wife and binna sweir,
And deal yer breid as lang's ye're here.

The servant maids were in the habit at New Year time of going into cabbage gardens at midnight and pulling up the stalks of cabbage from which the heads had been taken off for food. This stalk would represent their future husband. If it was bent it would be a bad sign, if straight good. Some of the servants would put the cabbage stalk behind the door, and the first man that entered was supposed to be her future husband. I think it was New Year's time also when the bakers sent rye cakes as they called to their customers. The rye cakes represented grotesque human figures, and the

employes of the bakers had the privilege also of presenting servant girls with the like cakes.

At another time (my memory here does not serve me), every house was supposed to have a pot of what they called birstled field peas in the house, and at another time eggs were boiled hard and coloured various colours, and we boys went to the links and threw them up in the air. They came down unbroken for some time, and the boy whose colour lasted longest had the disposal of the broken eggs; and then again at a certain period of the year no boy attending the Academy but must have some part of his dress quite new. I often wonder whether all (if any) of these quaint old customs obtain at the present time.

Once a quarter the Provost and Bailies attended the services in the "Auld Kirk". It was a very large building, with two galleries, one above the other. My father and mother had a pew opposite the preacher, and the Provost's pew (reserved for him and the Bailies) was just behind us in the first gallery. When they left the Town Hall for church they were escorted by half-a-dozen halberdiers with bright polished axes on long handles. When the first prayer of the minister was said he went on with "God protect the Provost and Bailies. Make them a terror to evil-doers, and a praise and protection to all who do well."

At sacrament time the whole church was lighted (for the ceremony lasted till late) by dip

candles, which gave a gloomy light appropriate to the services, and when psalms were sung the dominie read from his desk two lines at a time; for the lights were very dim.

Sedan chairs were then in vogue for conveying ladies to parties, where they played whist, and sometimes quarrelled over the game. They would have their hair dressed high for the occasion, and when they got into the sedan chair they covered their hair with a silk cosy, like that used for teapots.

In Montrose, like other old towns, there were half-demented individuals; amongst others was Jemmie Stevens, who had the organ of order highly developed. If obstructions of the gutters after rain occurred he would tramp the pavement and remove them, or if a shutter was loose he paid attention to it. On Sundays Jemmie would ascend the old Pictish tower (on which the steeple was built and church attached) and watch for the minister's approach from a loop-hole. He then would order the tolling of the bell to cease.

Another celebrity was Willie Cooly, who wore garments of the previous century, and was somehow attached to Sheriff's officers.

In some part of the town, and usually in the country, oil cruisies (so called) were general, with wicks got from the hearts of rushes. When in the country I often saw old women stripping the rushes for that purpose. Every kitchen in the country had a box full of oatmeal, and when

a vagrant passed he was always given, in his bag, a handful of meal. They were a privileged sort of people then, like Edie Ochiltree, in Walter Scott's novel of the Antiquary.

When I visited Montrose, after many years, the changes made one quite sad. While much remained the same, everything was changed, and what they called improved and altogether different. The old Grammar School was not there, and a museum occupied the site. The Academy was still there, and I asked some of the school boys if they played certain games, but they knew them not by the name I gave them, and their speech was different. In old times broad Doric was spoken. I presume it was all right and progressive, but it made me sad all the same.

As a boy I was present at the laying of the foundation stone of the chain bridge. The Academy boys were all there, and Cocky Norval officiated. The bridge was erected in my time. They had commenced to take down the old steeple as well as the old tower, which had a gloomy dungeon at the base, occupied by rats, but occasionally it had human occupants who transgressed the law.

When I was about twelve years of age my elder brother, William, went to Glasgow, where my mother's folks resided. He entered the office of John Croom, my uncle, who was a muslin manufacturer, and fond of music, as I afterwards learned when I followed two years

later. He was a member of the Society, and played some instrument. My father at this time had made some stupid ventures in the West Indies, and lost a lot of money. I also was sent to Glasgow. There was only the sea trip available then, and I got awfully sick on board before arriving at the entrance of the Monkland Canal, on the east coast, which leads to Glasgow on the west. It was rather a tedious trip in the canal before we reached Glasgow. We arrived near Tennant's chemical works. When I saw a lady and gentleman walking towards our small vessel I surmised they were my friends come to meet me, and sure enough they were. It was Mr. and Mrs. Brown. The former was a partner in the chemical works of Charles Tennant, afterwards Sir Charles Tennant, of the Glen, who got a baronetcy from Gladstone. They asked the captain if I was on board. I had been timid on seeing them and went below. Mrs. Brown said, "Boy, why are you not looking round you?"

After getting ashore and all enquiries being answered, Mr. Brown told the captain he would send for my luggage, and we went to my uncle's residence, Hope Park, not far from the Tennant works. After some time I was told I would be placed in a position connected with the works in supplying the working men with necessaries, such as great wooden shoes, for leather would not last any time, being corroded by chemicals. I did not like the position, and

my brother got me into an export business connected with the West Indies, and which I liked much better. My Uncle Croom was a great follower of Isaac Walton, and fond of trout fishing. He frequently took me with him, and I became quite an adept with the rod, and landed many spotted beauties. We fished at various times in Highland lochs, and also went to the upper reaches of the Clyde, where the brown trout resorted. I liked these excursions, where we stayed at times in primitive thielings, with old-fashioned surroundings, and quaint manners of the people, like chapters out of Sir Walter Scott's novels.

When in Glasgow I attended the lectures on chemistry, by Hugo Reid, and others in natural philosophy; also drawing, by a German teacher, and I got prizes in the first and latter classes.

The West Indies had always a charm for me, and I got acquainted with those who had been there, and described the life in those beautiful islands. Meanwhile, my father had passed away, and my mother came to live in Glasgow. My elder brother (who had gold medals for chemistry and other classes) and myself lived with her, and I hinted my desire to go to the West Indies, but she would not hear of it, and said if I wanted to go anywhere Australia was far better, although then a penal settlement; the climate was right, and several emigrant ships had already gone there. So it was

arranged that the first emigrant ship should take me to that far away country. I was on one of my fishing excursions with my uncle, and on returning I was told a ship was lying at the wharf at Greenock, on the Clyde, proceeding with emigrants for Australia. Excited, I went to the agents, and found that only a few cabin berths were offered, and all taken. I was so disappointed, and said, "Is there no other way of my getting a passage?" He said he would see. I paid a visit daily to the office, and met another would-be passenger, a Mr. Monro, whose brother had just died, being a captain in the Black Watch or 42nd Highlanders. The agent said if we liked they would run up bunks for us in the officers' quarters, and we could mess with them at the reduced rate of £30. We both agreed to that, so it was settled. I told Mr. Patterson, my employer, that I was going, and he said he was aware for some time that was my intention. He made me a present before I left, and bidding good-bye to mother, brothers, sisters, and friends, and having sent my luggage on board, I followed, my elder brother going to Port Glasgow with me to see me on board. Mr. Monro was there also, and we inspected our sleeping berths, which were comfortable enough, and were introduced to the second and third mates, the first officer, having a berth in the cabin. My brother bid me a sad farewell, and by this time the emigrants were all coming on board; and there was such a bustle that Mr.

Monro and I left the ship and went to stay the night with a friend of his. Next morning the ship was to go to the tail of the bank, and we had to go on board. There was a perfect pandemonium. All was in confusion, provisions for the emigrants being served out. Mr. Monro and I had our meals with the officers. There was a black cook on board, who had his hands full, having to cook for two or three hundred passengers.

CHAPTER II.

Chapter II.

At last we bid adieu to Old Scotia, and sailed down the Firth of Clyde, passed the Island of Arran, which loomed high and dark as we passed it on this 23rd of August, 1838, in the barque "Portland," Captain Coubra. We partook heartily of our meals with the second and third officers. The sailmaker had meals with us also, and was a very decent fellow. The number of emigrants I ascertained to be 251. In the cabin was a Mr. Murray, Mr. Binney, and Dr. McFarlane, who attended on emigrants.

As we fairly got to sea the ship began to roll and toss, and Monro and I, with all the passengers got sick, doctor and all, and the children on board made a fearful noise squalling and fretting. Towards the end of the month I got on deck, free pretty well from sickness, and noticed the sea had changed from a green colour in shallow water to a bright blue. Portuguese men-of-war (so called), with their tiny sails, were passed in great numbers. We were scudding along at the rate of ten knots, with all sails set. A number of the passengers were still sick. Mother Carey's Chickens, beautiful black birds, were flitting here and there over the waves; to injure or shoot any of them would be

reprobated by any sailor. I was quite myself again, and so was Mr. Monro, and passengers and emigrants enjoyed the sunny deck, for we were heading towards the tropics.

On Sunday a sermon was read by the doctor from the quarter-deck. An awning spread across it protected the emigrants from the sun, the heat from which was every day increasing. A number of the emigrants were Highlanders who were very touchy and subject to quarrelling. The captain asked Mr. Monro and myself to undertake the role of constables, and said he would support us, which position we both undertook. The captain asked us sometimes to dine with him, and we often had that pleasure. On the whole our duties as constables were very light, and we had seldom to interfere. As we progressed towards the Line the heat became more oppressive, the thermometer being 76 deg. in the shade. The sunsets were magnificent. On the 6th September we passed Madeira, and flying fish were seen, and a school of grampus, apparently pursuing them for food. The second mate told me if I got a hook we might catch some bonito, as they were seen at the bow of our ship keeping pace with the vessel. I enquired amongst the emigrants, and at last found a party who had a lot of hooks of various sizes. The second mate selected one, tied a piece of white rag to it, put it over the bow, just touching the water. He had it long just dipping the water when he hooked a large fish called an

albacore, which the cook made ready for our next mess.

A child was born a few days ago, but died on Sunday, the 9th September. The poor little thing at the dawn of life was committed to the deep in the afternoon. The morning's service was read as usual in the forenoon. The sun is increasing in heat now daily. Flying fish are now numerous, and heavy clouds portending rain are now seen. We are now, I presume, getting into what seamen call the doldrums, on this 20th September, and we are four points out of our course. At night porpoises were all around the ship, making the sea quite luminous as they swam all around us. A quarrelsome offender was brought before Mr. Monro and me, who condemned him to work the pumps in the morning while washing decks for a week. Another was found guilty of leaving suet below his berth for longer than necessary, and was punished by losing his currants and suet for a fortnight. We now see stars invisible to us in Scotland. On Sunday, the 23rd September, we sighted a ship which proved to be the "James Pattison," which sailed from Plymouth on the 23rd August. We had rain this evening. Next day we came abreast of the "James Pattison." She also is bound for Sydney, with 302 emigrants on board and several in the cabin. The wind was ahead, and we went on different tacks, and soon were out of sight of each other.

Tuesday, 25th September. – A child died this morning, another is ailing. We are now in latitude 5 deg. 5' North, 19 deg. West longitude, somewhere opposite the Guinea coast of Africa. Some fish were hooked this morning, but fell off before reaching deck.

We had an American amongst the emigrants, who made an offer of four sovereigns that no woman would venture to the foretop of the ship. A Scotch lassie went up, and gained the prize. I often go up myself, and lie down in the top. There is no noise except the whistling of the breeze.

September 27th. – Thermometer 80 deg., wind 5 points ahead. The sunset was one of the most magnificent I ever beheld. As the sun sank in the west the clouds appeared to be on fire, while the sun looked through two arms of gold and purple. At the same time a rainbow was seen in the east with beautiful radiations.

On the 28th September a board of health was formed by the doctor. Fresh soup was served out to invalids, and bathing under canvas daily, men one day, women the next, and so on. Mr. Monro and myself usually in this warm weather get up early and souse each other with buckets before anyone is about. The water was quite warm, and full of the luminous animalcules. In the dark, when we were extra early, these would float down our bodies in a stream of light.

We are now in 1 deg. 17' North latitude. The passengers were dancing on the main deck

to-night to bagpipes, and one of the emigrants, who had been in the army, drilled any of the passengers who offered. The captain allowed him to drill on the quarter-deck, and the use of the ship's muskets were given for the occasion. On the 30th September another child was born. We are now in the East Trades, pleasant breeze, and doing six knots. Some of the emigrants are complaining of their neighbours having vermin on their persons, and a scrutiny was ordered by the captain. Much of the bedding was condemned and thrown overboard, and inspectors appointed to examine the bedding frequently.

October 1st – Mr. Murray, when weather permitted, has been teaching the young children on the quarter-deck every forenoon, and is one of the cabin passengers, and has since we started done all he could for the benefit of his fellow passengers. The only other cabin passenger is a Mr. Binney, who is consumptive, and is seldom out of his cabin.

On the 3rd October a notice was posted on the long boat: –

NOTICE.
A complaint has been made that some of the passengers (mostly females) are in the habit of indulging in profane and indecent language. This is to inform them that if any individual, male or female, indulge in such conversation they will be most severely punished.

I have no doubt that some of the emigrants are not of the class that should have been selected, but the majority, as far as I can see, are of the right sort. I have noticed a few elderly people married who have no children. Such as these should not be allowed to emigrate, for they are going out to build another Britain in the Pacific, and having no children and elderly, they can do little in that way. We are now in the trades, and bowling along nicely, flying fish abundant. I notice they don't flap their wings, but rise from the water with a spring sufficient to carry them some distance with outspread wings. The child that was born the other day has died, and was thrown overboard in a wrapper without ceremony, because it had not been baptised. Is baptism necessary to ensure a decent burial, and what of its future state, &c.? I begin to think there is something wrong in our religious ceremonies.

The sailors quarrelled with their cook, who cooks for them and us exclusively, and also for the cabin. The sailors are angry with him for allowing some of the emigrants to use the galley occasionally. One of the sailors threw hot tea into the cook's face, declaring there was salt water in the tea. I believe myself if there was salt water in the tea it was introduced by one of themselves surreptitiously. The cook was badly scalded. The cook, however, was disrated, and notice given that no emigrant should enter the galley that cooked for the crew. A Highland

lady came on board as a steerage passenger with her husband, son, and daughter. She took very ill. The first mate gave up his cabin for her accommodation. Their name was Stevenson. On October 7th, a cloudy sky and a drizzling rain towards night, which, falling on the water, disturbed the myriads of animalcules in the sea, which sparkled like diamonds. On October 9th we were scudding along with a fine breeze, but it changed right ahead with a rather rough sea. We are now in South latitude. Mrs. Stevenson died on the 10th, and was committed to her ocean grave after service was read. We were all sorry for husband and family, who were plunged in grief, for they were a most affectionate family.

There was a general meeting of the passengers to-day regarding a peculiar case. There is amongst the emigrants a Mr. Jeffery, a tailor by profession, a little man, very conceited, who is also always getting into scrapes. He is a great talker, and can discourse on politics and the Church question, quarrels with his wife, and is always at the emigrants' fire cooking delicacies for himself. This renowned individual was sentenced by the committee of emigrants to perform some task for a misdemeanour. He failed in performing the task. A new committee had been formed since his sentence. Jeffery tried to bamboozle the present committee, as he boasted he had done the last. The last committee sentenced him to perform

the original task three times over, but he got a substitute to perform the sentence for doing a little job in the mending line. I was asked by the last committee to take down their proceedings, and write down all their trials. I accepted the office, as it afforded me much amusement, and got some paper from the captain for the purpose. The party who had performed this duty formerly had forced himself on the first committee, and had also been appointed to serve out the rations for the emigrants, and was supposed to have benefited thereby personally. A passenger sent me the following: –

On the 23rd of August last
We sailed from Greenock, well I mind;
While some folks' tears were falling fast
For parting friends they left behind.

We had rich and poor, of various grades,
Our ship, the Portland, trim and light,
And some on board had various trades,
Such was our friend, John Sloisterkite.

The wind was fair, the weather good,
And soon we cleared the British shores,
A few got sick, and others spued,
And some felt qualms unfelt before.

And when a committee was chose
To see affairs conducted right,
Self-constituted clerk arose,
Sly, cunning Johnny Sloisterkite.

And now, when rations are served out,
His clerkship must be in the hold;
He is hardly honest some folks doubt,
If all is true that we are told.

Perhaps they wrong him after all,
Let no man call him thus through spite,
Although something may chance to fall
In the pockets of John Sloisterkite.

Now while our voyage we pursue,
There's something needful John does mind,
Although they say he is a Jew,
Which by his face, say they find.

But be he Jew or be he not,
He fares just like a Benjamite,
A double portion's still the lot
Of cunning, sly, John Sloisterkite.

That every dog has but its day
Is an old adage, I have heard,
And as we're wending on our way,
The truth has now again appeared.

Yes, oft by fate our hopes are nipt,
Fair prospects vanish from our sight,
Now out of office now has slipt
Sly, cunning, Johnny Sloisterkite!

This day, the 10th October, the 'tween decks were fumigated with chlorine, and thoroughly washed and cleaned. We are scudding along with a strong breeze, doing from eight to ten

knots, with rather a heavy sea. To-day the committee had a case before them. A Mr. Fraser had his wife for some time in the hospital, but she had recovered, and Fraser was asked by the doctor to clean out the place where she had lain. Fraser told the messenger, in a joking manner, that the doctor might have cleaned it himself. The doctor ordered Fraser before the captain, who gave him a great scolding. The doctor had said to Fraser that when Fraser spoke to him he must uncover his head. This and the captain's scolding so irritated Fraser that he defied them both, and walked out. The captain afterwards sent a message to Fraser that he would not be allowed to come abaft the mainmast in future, a privilege allowed to the other emigrants.

Cape pigeons now appeared, following the ship; beautiful birds like spotted pigeons.

14th October, strong breeze, doing ten knots. Cape pigeons following the ship in her wake, picking up any fat substance thrown overboard. The wind suddenly fell, and the ship rolled fearfully. My trunks and Monro's got adrift, and we had to get up in the night to lash them properly. Albatross now appeared. I got my fowling piece out, and had a shot at them with ball, but failed to bring one down; but next day Mr. Murray and I tried again, and one fell with a great splash in the sea. The captain ordered a boat to be lowered to pick it up, as there was not much wind, and the sea had fallen. When it

came on board I measured the bird. It measured 10 feet 4 inches from tip to tip of the wings. On the 17th, a fresh breeze; only, however, doing about six knots, as the wind varied a good deal. I tried catching birds with hook and bait. A cork fastened to the line kept the bait near the surface. Had the hooks been smaller I might have caught a few. I was advised by the first mate to blacken a line and tow it astern. He had seen birds caught by getting entangled in the line. I tried it, and sure enough, one of the Cape pigeons got entangled and I hauled the line gently in, and caught the bird, which gave my hand rather a sharp peck. This bird I killed and afterwards sent the skin home. A shoal of porpoises passed us close to the ship. They had white noses, fins, and tails. We are now in 38 deg. South latitude, 10 deg. West longitude. I was busy all day making out a new book of rations, rather a tedious job. 20th October – A select committee, by the request of the first officer, Mr. Stocker, to enquire into some of the ship's provisions taken from a cask on deck, from which some cod fish had been taken. It was found that the cook had exchanged on various occasions cod fish for herring that one of the passengers had brought on board with him, and so the case ended. 21st October – Very foggy and no wind, the Cape pigeons very tame, and sat on the water eating any meat particles thrown from the ship. This day all the females were served with a bottle of wine, and the men folks with a

glass of rum each day at noon. The second mate served the rum out, and brought about half a bottle to us in the mess, but I let the rest drink it, only taking a little now and then. This was continued until we got to Sydney. 23rd October – Fair wind, strong breeze, doing eight knots. Two land birds rested on the bowsprit, and seemed quite exhausted. After resting they flew away. To-day the second mate informed me as a secret that we were to call at the Cape of Good Hope for fresh meat, and I must tell no one, as the captain says he has no occasion to call there.

Friday, 26th October – Fine breeze, all sail on the ship, going ten knots. Three whales seen, a number of birds followed them. I was told they picked the barnacles off the monsters, and are called whale birds. We are now in 35 deg. South latitude. Sunday, 28th October – Beautiful morning, very little wind. Service as usual 'tween decks. In the afternoon a strong favourable wind sent us along cheerily. On Monday the passengers are now given to understand that we call at the Cape, and all are rejoiced that we will see land once more. The anchor cable chains were hauled on deck, the emigrants helping the seamen joyously. We spoke the "Volunteer," of Whitehaven, loaded with tea from China, and bound for Liverpool. She left Canton three months ago, and passed the Cape yesterday. They were short of canvas, and sent a boat to board us to beg for some,

and also provisions. Captain Coubra gave them a cask of beef and some canvas, for which they were thankful. Tuesday, the 30th day of the month, we saw land appearing like huge clouds rising out of the sea. As we got nearer, Table Mount appeared in all its majesty. At the foot of the mountain lies Cape Town. No one could gaze on the present scene unmoved, especially after such a trip as we had had. At various distances, rising as it were out of the water, mountain after mountain, amongst which new prospects presented themselves in mist till the eyes were lost in an agreeable perplexity. All the passengers were on deck now, looking with longing eyes on the land. Towards evening we approach the land, but the captain declined anchoring until morning.

Wednesday, 31st October – Scarcely had day dawned when all the passengers were on deck, with the prospect of once more setting foot on terra firma, and tasting the fruit and productions of Southern Africa. About 9 o'clock all the women and children were ordered below so as to keep the decks clear for working the ship. The men were allowed to assist the sailors, and were divided into two parties for that purpose. Cape Town had not yet been seen, being hid by Sugarloaf Mount. Table Mountain lies behind the town. Houses and villas now appeared along the coast, as we sailed with a gentle wind towards the coast. Table Mountain is certainly a striking feature in the landscape. It seems

almost perpendicular, with quite a flat top. The bay (I think they call it Simon's Bay) is very spacious and exposed. We sounded as we went in, and anchored in about twelve fathoms. The bay is very exposed, and often ships are driven ashore and wrecked. A warning is given when Table Mount appears with what they call the tablecloth on its summit, a white mist that creeps downwards. The town itself appears quite insignificant from our anchorage.

Soon a boat came off to us, and in it was the harbourmaster, who, after inspecting the vessel, left us. A crowd of native boats then appeared, wanting passengers for the shore, but were sent empty away by the captain, at which the passengers were much offended. The emigrants, however, were given to understand that the captain would make a selection of so many, who would be taken ashore in the ship's boats. He would only select those who earned his confidence by their conduct on board. Some twenty-five were selected. Mr. Monro, Mr. Murray, and myself also went, and the captain said he expected we should look after the emigrants, as he was in a measure responsible for them. Mr. Murray, Mr. Monro, and myself, however, did not wait for the ship's boat, but hailed a native boat which was hanging about. A fresh breeze was blowing towards the shore, and a sail was hoisted, and we sailed merrily towards Cape Town. When we got to the landing place we found a jetty

stretching about 100 yards from the beach, at which we landed. We found a crowd of people on the wharf (so called). Most of them had enormous cane hats nearly the size of an umbrella. Saving a few Europeans, most of those we saw were Hottentots, with negro features. There were a few Indians also, handsomely dressed in their native costumes, and are traders. We now made tracks for the town. When we reached the end of the wharf we had to stop to allow a team of bullocks to pass, driven by one Hottentot. He had a long bamboo whip which he used to persuade the bullocks to get along the road.

The first street we entered seemed to be peopled by Dutchmen, from the signs on the shops, and from their appearance, also as the men we saw were all Dutch built apparently, stout and jolly looking. They are the most important people in the town, though not so numerous as the others. There was a row of trees on one side of this street, beneath whose shelter sable ladies sold fruit. Walking along the street we espied a sign, London Tavern, into which we entered, and called for some bread and cheese with a bottle of native wine. The hotel was kept by one Brook Lewis, who was very talkative, and gave us lots of information about things in general, and himself in particular. He had been in the army, and had seen some fighting and much adventure. The wine he offered was only 4d. a

bottle. We asked if Constantia was to be had. He replied he had some old Constantia, but it would cost 1/- a bottle. This was produced, and it was truly nectar in comparison. After we were refreshed we went out on the street to pursue our researches further afield. After purchasing some fruit we went down several streets. All the houses were flat-roofed. Some had great arches in the centre of the building in which sat dark women selling apricots and other fruits, of which we purchased. The ship's boat was to come for us about this time, so we wended our way to the wharf, and got on board the boat which was waiting, and got on board our ship, and were surrounded by the people as if we were from another world, asking what we had seen, &c.

Next day Mr. Monro and I went ashore again, this time in a native boat. We hied to the London Tavern, and asked if we could get a private room to write letters in. We were shown into a snug little room. He supplied us with paper, ink, &c., and sent out at our request for local newspapers. We both wrote to friends in dear old Scotia, and finding where the post office was, proceeded to post letters and papers. The remuneration to our host of the Tavern was very moderate. Mr. Monro and I went to the seaside, but could not endure the heat. We returned to the shady side of the streets and on the market place, which is a large square, and where we had a nearer

view of Table Mount. In the square, on the shady side were fruit sellers. Oranges, apricots, cocoanuts, and vegetables of many kinds were here for sale. We purchased oranges, which being pulled when ripe were most luscious. There was a large pump in the centre of the square, from which some miserable blacks were drawing water to keep down the dust, and only with buckets. We learned they were prisoners, and were thus punished. They were looked over by a very pleasant Malay, who looked over the prisoners, and with whom we had some conversation. We saw some fine Arabian horses passing over the square. The riders were mostly English. We saw some pretty ponies also.

The town is much larger than I expected to find it, and contained some very handsome buildings, churches, meeting-houses, &c. The streets are so similar to each other that we got lost, but we always could get to the beach and start afresh for new discoveries. The shops or stores were all vaulty-looking buildings, flat-roofed. In one street the Dutch occupied the majority of the buildings. On some of the signs were the following intimations as to the owner's trade and occupation.

P. VAN BREDA,
Negotie Winkle.

S. VAN RONEN,
Brood an Besokuit Bakker.

MARTIN,
Deals Hout, &c., for &c., Te Sale Koop.

The foregoing is a specimen of the Dutch signs. The suburbs of the town are very beautiful, containing villas with lovely surroundings, and flowering trees of great variety and a most fragrant smell. To me it seemed a perfect paradise. From this spot we had a fine view of the bay. The sea was calm and bright as a mirror. We saw our bark resting two miles from shore. Soon she will spread her wings again and carry us onwards to our destination. The bay was covered by thousands of sea birds, which are not allowed to be shot. On the north side of the town I noticed a number of windmills facing the bay. None of the streets are paved, but most of them have shady trees on both sides. I learned that cabin biscuit was sold at 8d. per lb., bread equally dear, sugar 3d., coffee 7d., mutton hams from 1d. to 4d., butter 1/4 to 1/6, eggs 2/- a dozen, tea 3/- a pound, sheep 13/-, turkeys 7/-, fowls 5/- per pair. Fish was cheap.

It was now time to think of getting on board, so we purchased some oranges, cocoanuts, and onions, and passed through several streets, being in doubt as to which led to the wharf. On the way we met several of our passengers, who told us that the captain had sent ashore a message that all must be on board by 4 o'clock, as the vessel was to sail that evening. On the

way to the wharf we were accosted by a native boy, who told us in broken English that several of our passengers were in gaol, having been disorderly in the streets. He went with us to show us the gaol. While he yet spoke to us, one of our female passengers corroborated the truth of the boy's statements. She also was tipsy, and said she would not go on board until her husband and cousin (now in gaol) went also. Seeing her condition, and it being useless to talk to a drunken woman, we, with the boy guide, went to the Court House and interviewed the gaoler, who said if the ship was to sail to-night he would release those in custody if the captain sent him a letter to that effect. He also said the men had been fighting and quarrelling on the street, and he had only done his duty by incarcerating them. The woman, who had followed us, railed violently at the officers, and demanded their release immediately, and otherwise acted very imprudently, for the gaolers were very civil.

When we got to the wharf a shocking scene presented itself. The female passengers were using the most disgusting language. Natives of every grade were onlookers, and were laughing at the manner in which the ordinary men and women of that great country, England, were behaving. A strange gentleman paid for a boat to convey some of them on board, as they were a disgrace to their country. Another gentleman paid for washing some of the

females' faces before they went on board. With some difficulty we got off from the wharf. When we reached the ship the chief officer, Mr. Stoker, confiscated all the wines and spirits that were found on the passengers. The reason assigned for so doing was, that they in that condition would fight, and also give drink to the sailors, rendering them unfit for duty. One of the sailors had gone ashore with the passengers, and married one of them named Jane Dixon. We did not sail that night. The captain went ashore next morning to get the men out of gaol, and to hunt up the missing passengers. He was successful in getting all but one woman, and she was an idiot, and ought never to have been selected for a free passage. She was subject to fits on board, and in every way indicated the careless way of selecting the emigrants. The captain left with the authorities £20 to send her when found to Sydney, where she will be anything but an acquisition. Those who selected her are certainly to blame.

On Saturday, the 3rd November, we once more had the anchor up and were at sea. On taking a last look at Table Mount I noticed that the tablecloth was being spread, a pure white film of vapour was creeping down from the top, indicating strong winds and rough seas. At noon Mr. Fulton, the second officer, bawls down the hatchway, Grog O! Grog O! and the male passengers scrambled

up with cups or pannikins to receive their allowance of rum from Jamaica, which all ships carried in those days.

On Saturday, 3rd November, we were sailing south in order to clear the land. On Sunday, 4th, sermon 'tween decks as formerly. Passengers are all quiet after their run ashore at the Cape. I am sorry that so many of them when ashore acted so foolishly.

Monday, the 5th, our course is now southeast. The women, as usual, got their wine served out to them. We are now encountering the heaviest seas we have yet experienced, and the waves are the highest and furthest apart that we have yet seen. When at the Cape we took on board a lot of sheep. All of them had enormous tails, a solid lump of fat. They had very coarse wool, more like hair. The mutton was very sweet and tasty after the salt junk and pork we had been used to the greater part of the voyage.

Tuesday, 6th November – To-day the passengers had soup; half the sheep that was killed yesterday was made into soup, the other half went into the cabin and our mess. From early morning there was a sail in sight. We are now in very rough weather, with a wind ahead, and are close-hauled to it. The foretopsail yard carried away, and we have no spare spars on board. It took some time to get the spar and sail on deck. The carpenter of the ship says he might make it serviceable again, but we sail

now under reduced canvas. The wind and sea rising; cold dark nights. Before turning in I went on deck, just as about ship was called by the officer on watch, Mr. Stoker. I gave the sailors help with the braces, it warmed one up, and I often gave them assistance; so did many of the passengers. As the ship heeled over there was much smashing of crockery 'tween decks, and one could scarcely stand on deck. Even in our bunks we rolled about, and could not sleep. S. latitude 36 deg. 46'.

Thursday, 8th November – The wind keeping up, ship rolling fearfully, and taking in seas on both quarters. The cook managed to kill another sheep. A ship passed us early in the morning, so we were told. I stick to our cabin in such weather as we are having. Mr. Monro got a great ducking going on deck, and had to change his clothes. One of the emigrants, by name David Living, whose wife is in the hospital, and he also as attending her in the absence of others, forced a trap door leading into the captain's cabin, and stole a bottle of champagne and a silver spoon. I believe it was done for the sake of his wife, but he foolishly took a silver spoon from the cabin with the captain's initials on, which was found in his trunk. The matter being serious, it was left to the captain to decide the punishment.

Sunday, 11th November – Wind over the quarter, rattling along at the rate of eleven knots. Sermon 'tween decks as

usual, text "The Lord God, merciful and gracious." After service a squall with heavy rain came on suddenly. The hoarse cry of the captain, speaking through a trumpet so as to be heard, and the peculiar cry of the sailors as they took in sail, filled the passengers with consternation. The doctor, leaving his post on a raised platform, fell, and the platform with him, on top of a woman, who fainted. A man was sent to the cabin for a glass of wine for the woman. He also fell down and broke the glass, so there was a series of accidents following on the doctor's sermon. We have run in the last forty-eight hours 526 miles. We are now 45 deg. E. latitude, 40 deg. N. longitude. The sea is running very high; enormous waves with a great distance between them.

Tuesday, 13th November. – The weather has changed for the better, less wind and the sea abating. The evening was beautiful, and as the stars came out they seemed to twinkle with pleasure.

Wednesday, the 14th – Lovely morning, fine fresh breeze. A shoal of whales passed the ship. A studdingsail boom was carried away during the night. Thursday, the 15th – Fine morning, but very cold; ship rocking fearfully, the wind having gone down, and it was impossible for anyone to keep his legs on deck. Friday, 16th – The captain sent the committee a gallon of brandy to make toddy, which was appreciated.

Saturday, 17th November – The wind is piping up again, going nine and a half knots. A Mrs. Robertson had a serious fall to-day, and had to be taken to the hospital. Sunday, 18th – Service as usual, text Exodus 34, 8. An immense number of birds, whale birds I presume, who pick the barnacles off whales' backs and sides. Strong wind, averaging eight to 10 knots. 19th – Fair wind, but mountainous sea, the gunwales sometimes under water, and pitching at the same time; scudding along under reefed topsails and reefed mainsail. In the afternoon a very heavy squall struck the ship, heavy rain at the same time. The scene 'tween decks, I am told, was indescribable, everything topsy turvey. Monro and I had our trunks carefully lashed, so they could not move.

20th – Such another day. In the morning the ship struck a piece of ice, and shivered from stem to stern. We have seen no icebergs so far, and the ice the ship struck against was unlooked for and unexpected. During the day there was frequent rain and hail. Many albatross round the ship, and keeping pace however swift we sailed. It appeared, indeed, that the swifter we sped along the easier they seemed to follow, never flapping their wings. On one occasion one was caught by a baited hook and brought on deck. The sailors said it could not rise from it, and could not even fly except in a gale of wind. Sure enough the bird made no attempt

to rise from the deck, and vomited small squid, which is the food of whales. The albatross, as I said, never flap their wings, but place them at different angles, and would sweep quite round us, and keep ahead, however fast the ship was going.

21st November – Beautiful morning but very cold. About noon the captain came down from the poop, and asked if I had good eyesight. I said my eyesight was all right. "Come forward and look over the larboard bow and say if you can pick out anything." At first I saw what appeared to be strange shaped clouds, but looking more attentively I saw it was land, and called "Land O!" on the larboard bow. There was a rush of men and women, as well as sailors, to see St. Paul's Islands, for so it turned out to be. They cover a space of about twelve miles, so the captain told me. The French some time ago had a sealery upon the islands, but it is now abandoned. Goats have been landed. There is nothing but brushwood for them to live on. These islands are on the track of ships going to Australia, and most vessels try to pick them up in passing. The captain told me there was a boiling spring on St. Paul's, where the French used to cook their food. Fish are plentiful and good. I took a sketch of the island as we passed.

Sunday, 25th – Strong wind, going ten and a half knots. Sermon 'tween decks as usual, text Luke 12-35. The doctor

reads his sermons, prayers, and blessing all off paper, but to-day he managed the blessing without reading it. 26th – Beautiful morning, going 10 knots. I hear that several of the sailors are incapable of doing their duty, and one or two are in the hospital. Up to the 29th we had similar weather. The committee started a washing day twice a week now. Mr. Monro got one of the women to wash for us. We had previously, at different times, had our clothes washed when weather permitted.

Saturday, 1st December – Strong winds continue, sheets and haulyards strained to their utmost, seamen on quarter deck ready for any emergency, but squall passed without doing damage. Sunday, 2nd December – Wind is light. Tuesday, 4th – We have a complete calm. Several whales seen. One of them came close to the ship, and kept close to it for some time. The captain gave orders to-day to stop giving out washing water until we had a fair wind. From this it would seem that the water is getting short. I wonder why, after the rains we have had, that some means were not tried to replenish the casks or tanks. This evening was beautiful. The piper appeared with his bagpipes and dancing soon followed.

Wednesday, the 5th – Another fine day, with a fair breeze. The washing water was now given out, and the woman we had formerly employed kindly offered her

services on this occasion also, so Mr. Monro and I got out all our used linen, &c., for we hope the last time an board the "Portland." Next day was excellent for drying and then ironing. All our things were most beautifully washed and ironed. The day was fine and the sun warm, the wind only sufficient to take us along at one and a half knots, but the seamen predict a breeze before long, for curious clouds appeared in the sky (called by the sailors cat's teeth). The sky is ever changing and ever new. The combination of the clouds in shape and hue is infinite, and we have seen scenes of such beauty and splendour as neither the poet or painter dared to pourtray. The changes of the sky impart, as it were, life and feeling; calms and storms are the passions of Nature as of humanity. The captain seems to believe with the sailors that we are to have a breeze, for he has ordered all the topsails to be reefed. A male child was born to-day, which, with the mother is doing well.

Friday, the 7th December – Little wind as yet, but streamers of cat's teeth extend all over the sky. The captain intends now going round Van Diemen's Land via Bass Straits. A great number of porpoises round the ship. Light clouds were seen in motion in the sky above, so a change is imminent. Saturday, the 8th December – Still becalmed, scarcely moving, and there is a fog on the water rolling towards the ship. Vivid

flashes of lightning now appeared. Thunder was heard, and a strong breeze sprang up; and as we had been prepared for it, we were scudding along, wind dead aft. Rain in torrents followed the thunder. The wind shifted towards evening, and we were close-hauled to it when I turned into my berth.

Sunday, the 9th – A strong head wind blowing, cold and very damp. Service as usual 'tween decks. Wind changed, and we bore away for Bass Straits, carrying all the canvas we could on the ship. Wind continued to increase, and we had to take in studding sails and reef topsails again. Rain again fell in torrents, and we had to keep below, no chance of going on deck. Monday, 10th December – Strong wind, seas breaking over the bulwarks, jib torn and carried away. King's Island in sight. It is about sixty miles long, and is covered with forests. I went on deck and had a look at it, but did not stay, for everything was wet and disagreeable. The ship was put about during the night.

Tuesday, 11th – Wind still ahead. King's Island still in sight, but soon we lost sight of it, and at 4 p.m. we sighted Wilson's Promontory. 'Bout ship again at 6 p.m. The sunset was lovely, the clouds appeared like burnished gold, relieved by a sky of yellow and blue. At eight bells, midnight, the watch was turned out to 'bout ship. I often joined them, and the night was fair and beautiful.

Wednesday, the 12th – We passed an island of fantastic shaped rocks. A lot of medusae appeared in the sea, pulsating with their tentacles all in motion. In fact the sea was full of them. We were informed that Bass Straits was a fishing ground for barracoota, so we got lines out, as we were going merrily through the water. We used no bait, all that was wanted was a biggish hook and a red or white rag, and the bait (so called) was dragged on the surface of the water. I was the first to haul in a fish. It was about four feet long, fins all along the back, and slender in shape. All the passengers who had lines were now at work, and soon the deck was covered with fish. As their fins were very sharp several of the passengers got severely hurt in handling them. Shoals of a different kind of fish were seen, with seabirds hovering over them screaming and diving after their prey.

Thursday, the 13th December – As we are now reaching the end of our voyage, a committee was selected to draw out a letter to be presented to our worthy captain. Those selected were John Webster, Robert Monro, Peter Robertson, John Henderson, William Jeffrey, and John McIntire. It was proposed by the meeting that after the letter was drawn out a meeting should be called to hear it read, which was agreed to, of course. So we set to work without delay. The result was as follows: –

TO CAPTAIN COUBRA,
Commander of the "Portland,"
SIR, – We, the passengers of the "Portland," grateful to a kind and protecting Providence for the great health we have enjoyed, and for the great courtesy and kindness received from yourself since we embarked in your ship, and being now near to our destination, beg to assure you that we are highly sensible of your kind and gentlemanly conduct towards us; confident that our words are unequal to express our feelings for the manly and upright manner you have acted towards all in your charge. We also beg to congratulate you on having such kind and efficient officers, whose assiduity and attention to the passengers has earned our lasting gratitude. We also congratulate you on making such a good selection of your seamen. In conclusion we cannot too highly express our esteem and approbation of Dr. McFarlane for his attention and diligence to all under his care. Wishing you every enjoyment of health, and success in all your undertakings, hoping that the Providence that has protected since we left British shores may safely guide you back again to the land of cakes.
(Signed by all who could write.)

At a meeting of the passengers the letter was read to them, and the chairman wanted to know whether anyone wished amendments or alterations to the letter just read, or of any objections to the same being sent to the captain. There being no objections, the letter was accordingly sent to Captain Coubra. Mr. Murray, who had been teaching the children on board, was also the recipient of a letter.

Friday, 14th – Strong fair wind, going ten knots. A sail was sighted ahead, which we are rapidly overtaking. The passengers are now all anxiety regarding their future prospects, and all look very serious; no more laughing and joking. The sea towards evening became very rough. The doctor received a letter of thanks from those he had attended in the hospital, signed by thirty passengers. In reply the doctor wrote as follows: –

GENTLEMEN, – I cannot but feel very grateful for the letter I have this moment received. I am happy to think that my professional labours have met with your approbation. I cordially join with you in thanking a gracious Providence, and trust that we may still be the objects of His care, and to walk more and more worthy of His goodness. I pray that your industrious efforts may be crowned with success in your adopted country.
Yours, most obediently,
DR. MCFARLANE.

Mr. Murray's reply to the letter sent him by the parents of the children who had been taught by him on the voyage was as follows: –

GENTLEMEN, – I had much pleasure in receiving the very kind letter you sent me, signed by you, the parents of the young people I was in the custom of hearing lessons read by them on the voyage. I am afraid you much over-rate any little services I may have been able to do them. It was my anxious wish that, if they should acquire nothing new, they may

have at least not forgot what they had formerly acquired, and I would fain flatter myself that object had been attained. If at any time after our arrival in the wide extended territory on which we have now a near prospect of landing, I shall hear of you and your families' prosperity, it will afford me the greatest pleasure, and I earnestly pray that God may long spare you and your wives together, and that you may be permitted to see your children become useful and respectable members of society. As they grow in years may they grow in grace.
P. S. MURRAY.

Cape Howe is now seen, and a great part of the coast. The ship seen in the morning is now on our larboard quarter. It has been in dirty weather, and apparently under jury masts, and quite disabled. The sea is still rough, with high seas. The wind rising, we had to take in sail, or we might have been in the same sorry plight as the poor ship we had left behind.

Saturday, 15th December – Rained heavily during the night. The wind continues fair, and more moderate; rather hazy. There is neither land or ship to be seen, but as we sailed on the haze lifted, and the sun came out warm and pleasant. The anchor cable was to-day got on deck, the passengers taking great interest in the event. To show how different opinions are formed of the same individual, referring to Dr. McFarlane, an acrostic was written by one of the passengers, of which I got a copy, but the party's name I will not disclose.

AN ACROSTIC.

Dame Nature once an animal did make
Of such material as fell to its lot,
Compounding them, by some mistake,
To put in any good had quite forgot.
On went the process, yet was Nature sad,
Remembering well, "Though she was not to blame,"
Make what she could, "That all the parts were bad,"
And that thing produced, her trade would shame.
Compelled, reluctant, she her duty did,
Forth came an animal in human shape;
And its worst parts all were ably hid,
Resembling man, and tempered like an ass,
Low, selfish, proud, a spiteful hypocrite,
A tyrant, too, if it had any power;
Nay, doubt not the truth of what I write,
E'en you may see it here at any hour.

The author of the above writes me, –

SIR, – If you have a select corner in your journal insert the above acrostic. If it does not merit to be seen, you may deposit it in some convenient place for a domestic purpose.
Sir, I am your careworn humble servant,
– – – – – .

Sunday, 16th – Lovely quiet morning, and quite warm, but a head wind, which has damped the spirits of all aboard, though a few would like to prolong the voyage. Service as usual 'tween decks, which was better attended than

usual, as it was expected to be last day Dr. McFarlane would read the service. The text was the parable of the virgins. The sermon was of course read as usual. It was a farewell sermon, too, and attentively listened to. Mr. Murray had assisted the doctor in compiling the sermon. Amongst other things he said, "It is a common saying that when a Scotchman leaves his native land and his father's house he leaves his faith behind him. He hoped it would not be the case with his hearers, &c." After service the breeze fell to a dead calm, and shortly afterwards a light fair wind sprang up, freshening as we slipped along the coast. The heat is now becoming oppressive, and I did not sleep well last night.

[Chapters III, IV and V concern events in Australia and have not been digitised for the ENZB]

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VI.

It had been stipulated that one of the drays should convey us to Adelaide. After his brothers had left John Howe took to drinking rum. He had found out where he could get it, and for three days we could not get him to move, and old Tom had been keeping him company. At last we started for Adelaide. When we got there another overland party, who had come by the old Murrumbidgee route arrived in sorry plight. Their camp had been rushed one night by hundreds of natives. It appears that they (the shepherds) had divided the sheep into two, one flock about a mile ahead of the other. The leader was Mr. Inman (I don't know if the name is correct, but it sounded so) was passing from one flock to the other, and when about to cross a small creek he met three natives. He made friendly signs to them, and gave them some bread he had in his pocket, and was turning to cross the creek when he received a spear in his back, another in his shoulder, and a third through his arm. He was found insensible by the following shepherds. The spear in his shoulder had struck the bone, and dropped out. That in his arm was drawn through. The spear head only was

in the wound of his back, for, in falling, it had broken off. The horse had galloped and joined the foremost mob of sheep. The poor fellow lay on one of the drays on his belly for seven weeks. The spear head being jagged could not be drawn, but came out of itself gradually. It measured seven inches, I am told. Four inches at least must have been in the wound.

The party had troubles on the Darling River with the natives, losing many sheep. The natives showed fight at times, but always lost some of their number killed or wounded. When at some distance from the Rufus the natives made their appearance in great numbers, said to have been between four and five hundred. The shepherds left their flock to defend the drays. The men described the natives, who were in their war garb painted white on their faces and striped on their legs, looking like veritable fiends.

A row of old men with feathers in their hair joined hands behind to keep the warriors forward. Nothing could stand this attack, and the white men had to leave drays and sheep to the black men. Three of the white men were speared and another carried bodily off. The other men retreated through the thick scrub, and sustained themselves by killing and eating their faithful dogs until they met a dray sent out from Adelaide to meet them. One of them told me he had lived for three days on a dog's tongue.

A number of gentlemen mustered and formed a large party to go back to the Murray River and retake the sheep from the natives. They wanted J. McLaurin and myself to join them, but we declined, although they offered to provide us with horses. They were led by Mr O'Halloran, the head of police, on a white horse (which he had bought from Mr. Lockhart on our first journey). It was called Snowball. We both knew it at once. The result of the expedition, we learned afterwards, was that they found a lot of sheep surrounded with a scrub fence, and all the sheep had their legs broken and five hundred or six hundred natives lay around feeding on them. They cooked them in holes in the ground. O'Halloran's horse was speared. They shot at the natives, of course, but, finding them most dangerous in the thick scrub and the sheep in the state described, the party returned to Adelaide unsuccessful. Jim McLaurin and I put up at Miss Bathgate's. She told me Captain Grey had made a trip from Swan River sometime previous, and had stayed with her for a short time. He was afterwards invited to Government house, and stayed there. He had been speared in the leg, and had shot the native who threw the spear. They had gone on the beach in search of water, expecting to find a stream or streams running into the sea, but could find none. Captain Grey then left his men to send succour from Adelaide, but all but two had died of thirst.

Edward and John Howe had left us at Gawlertown, intending to take their horses overland to Port Phillip, but when we got to Adelaide they had sold their horses and taken a ship then offering for Sydney. I got a letter from J. Howe telling me to bring anything belonging to them to Sydney, and leave them at their agents (naming them). When we got by sea, however, to Port Phillip, we found J. Howe and Ephraim both there.

At Port Adelaide McLaurin and I got on board a small steamer that had come out from England. I believe it was the first steamer that came to the colonies. It was a paddle wheeled boat, of a little over 200 tons. The fare on board was very poor. The flour was sour, and they still had salt meat on table. The speed was little over five knots. When we reached Port Phillip there were three square rigged ships in the harbour. As we lumbered past them at nearly live knots, they gave us three cheers. These ships had brought out immigrants for the new settlement. We saw nothing of the town, when we got there, and were told we would have to land at a place pointed out to us as Liardet's Beach, and walk over a swamp until we saw a number of tents and a few houses.

We followed instructions, and landed at the spot described. The swamp was covered with rushes, no trees of any kind. Water holes here and there. We travelled for some distance, carrying our belongings with us, except

my trunk, which was still on board the Thirteen, the name of the boat. When we came in sight of the tents and houses we had to hail for a boat to get across the Yarra River, for the town was on the other side. After some time a boat appeared. We easily found out where the Howes had put up. It was on the highest part of what was to be the town, and was a house of accommodation. There we found the two brothers Howe. Ephraim had sold some fat cattle to a party near the town, and wanted McLaurin and me to go up and fetch them and deliver them to the buyer and get his receipt. We were told there were hotels (so called) all the way, and the publicans would instruct us how to proceed. Indeed, it was a well beaten track all the way to the Broken River, where Ephraim Howe had a station, and there we were to get the cattle. We agreed to go, as I wanted to see as much of the country as possible.

John Howe was to precede us in a gig, and he would select the cattle. He would start next day. Meanwhile we required to get some clothing, and we saw some drapers' shops, and were looking into the window to see if anything would suit us, when a tap revealed the face of my old shipmate, Robert Monro. Of course Jim and I went in, and Monro and I shook hands, and I introduced J. McLaurin, and told him of our journeys overland, and that I was going to New Zealand, after we had delivered

some cattle, but we wanted to make ourselves a little decent. Mr. Monro told me he had been sent here to open a branch of their business in the new settlement, and here he was.

James McLaurin had also met a shipmate, who kept a public house, and where we had got sleeping quarters of a sort, but the meals were good and clean. Here also I had my cockatoo, for I had never parted with it. I got a cage for him in Adelaide, and always looked after him myself. When I appeared, after being out some time, he would flap his wings in delight when he saw me and cry out, "Pretty cocky."

John Howe had the start of us three days, when horses were got for J. McLaurin and me. Meanwhile I got from the Thirteen steamer my trunk, and the things that John and Edward Howe had left for me to bring along. These I left with Ephraim for the Broken River.

Before starting I left the cockatoo with the landlady, instructing her how he was to be fed, &c.

Jim and I now made a start for the Broken River. We got there in three days, crossing the Goulburn River. This river and the Ovens, are both tributaries of the Hume and Murray. When we reached the last accommodation house, the people told us we would have to travel fifteen miles further to reach Howe's station. We have therefore travelled over 100

miles since we left the township. We learned from the hotel keeper that the town is now called Melbourne, after Lord Melbourne. This hotel is built on the spot where Faithful and all his party were killed by the natives, not one escaping. They were driving a herd of cattle to the new township at Port Phillip.

The station had a large stockyard, and three or four huts built of bark, and had loop holes all round, in case of attack by black fellows. We started with 120 head of fine fat bullocks. We stockyarded them every night, making each night a public house, where they had stockyards. On crossing the Goulburn River we lost one of the herd, it being drowned. Before delivering them, we fed them at a spot near where they were to be delivered, Jim and I watching them all night.

Next morning we delivered the cattle at the station belonging to a name like Enty (Henty), but I am not sure. Two hundred head were sold, and Jim and I went up for the balance, but I received a letter from Ephraim Howe saying he had arranged to deliver the rest of the cattle sold. At the station a brother of James McLaurin, who had gone with us on the first trip down the Murrumbidgee, was head stockman here, and we spent six weeks with him. He had two kangaroo dogs, and we had great sport hunting the emu and kangaroo.

When we got to Melbourne (as I shall now call it) Jim McLaurin had told me he expected

his father and the rest of the family would have arrived there, intending to settle in the district, and sure enough we found them there. The father had purchased some acres of land on the harbour bank. The first party we met in Melbourne was J. McLaurin's eldest brother, who had been expecting us for some days, and was on the look-out for us.

After delivering up our horses, we had to cross the Yarra River in a boat, and had a good long tramp to the homestead of the McLaurin family. They had been living in tents, but had now a sort of house erected as makeshift, until a proper one could be put up. I stayed with them for about a week. They mean to have a dairy farm, and will provide Melbourne with milk and butter.

Jim McLaurin went with me to town, and when bidding good-bye he was half crying. We met again in after years, as I will duly relate when the time comes.

Melbourne is situated between two ridges, and is much more compact than Adelaide, and has a good river running by it called Yarra Yarra, which flows past the town, and further down joins a saltwater creek, and then flows into the harbour. They are already erecting a wharf near the town. At the present time they are digging out the stumps of gum trees previous to paving the streets. In rainy weather the streets must be in an awful mess, unfit for traffic of any kind.

Since I arrived here the first time, 3000 emigrants have arrived, but one-half can't find employment.

In reading afterwards some Adelaide papers, I found that Major O'Halloran, after returning from the unsuccessful attempt to secure Inman's sheep, had gone again to the Murray with a large force of mounted police, with the object of recovering the remainder of the sheep. The number of the flock when the party started was 15,000. It was hoped that a few thousand would still be found. And also they had heard of another party being on their way with cattle, that ought to have arrived by this time. To recover any sheep they found to be hopeless. What the natives had not devoured the dingoes had killed. The latter had been in great numbers, for their wailing cries were heard all night. The party had spare horses with them, carrying tents and provisions.

Seeing nothing of the cattle party, now overdue, they went some distance up the Murray, and came across some of the fugitives of that party who had been overwhelmed by numbers of the natives. They had lost cattle and drays, and had six men speared and all wounded.

The Major recovered the greater part of the cattle, and took them to Adelaide. The drays had been ransacked, and were left behind.

The leader of that party was a Mr. Langhorn, and it consisted of eighteen men all told. They had been attacked with the utmost fury

by the natives, who showered spears upon them, and killed six and wounded the others.

The major found three of the six men who had been killed. They were much mangled by the savages. The major had the three men buried in the sand.

I sailed from Melbourne at the end of March, 1841, in a small brig for Sydney, and found that Paul and Co. (now Wright and Graham) had sent my letters to Mr Monro at Melbourne, and I had to wait some time in Sydney for their arrival. In the meantime I strolled about the town. I saw the soldiers manoeuvring in the barracks in George Street, and visited the gardens, having to cross a small creek to get there. A little bridge had been erected over the creek, and I paid a penny to get over. The gardens are well kept, and well worth a visit. Government House is not far off.

My letters arrived meanwhile from Melbourne, and I am now ready to start for New Zealand.

Mr. Graham told me he had made up his mind to start a branch of business in Auckland, New Zealand. One of his clerks had just returned from that country, and had been to Hokianga, and had seen my brother there. He had two of the emigrants and their wives with him, who had come out under the auspices of the New Zealand Company, which had bought land at Wellington. But as there was no forest of

timber there, my brother, hearing of Hokianga and having brought out a sawmill with him, from Home, as I have already related, first put up the mills at the heads of Hokianga. Finding the sand injuring the saws, he removed up that river to a place called Wairere, and there I am going to find him.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VII.

A vessel at last is advertised for New Zealand, the barque Jupiter. I went to the agent to secure a passage. He asked me if I had been to the Marine office. He said all passengers have to appear there before a passage can be taken, and reference made to some well known man in Sydney. I mentioned Wright and Graham. "A note from them will be quite sufficient," he replied. So I had to get that note, and went to the Marine department which, on my presenting the note, graciously permitted me to pay my passage to New Zealand, which I did right away, showing my permit to do so.

On the day we sailed, April 20th, 1841, all the passengers were mustered, and a boat came off and tallied off the number, and examined the crew, and even went below to see if they could find any stowaways, looked into the cabins and up aloft, to see that there was no one on the tops, then went ashore.

These were the old convict days. A number of the better class of convicts were found in offices and in shops, and other responsible positions, but you could not tell them from respectable people, and servants were assigned to masters who were responsible for them.

We at last sailed down the harbour. Our pilot was the agent of the barque himself, and made a mark in the colony, being Robert Towns.

I had made arrangements with the captain that he should land me at the Bay of Islands, on his way to Auckland. We were with light winds, ten days in reaching that harbour. On landing (May 1st) the first white man I met was David Graham, a big boy in a blue jacket, and leading a horse. I asked him where I could get accommodation. He directed me to a certain house. When I got there the house was full. It was the season when all the whalers put into the Bay for provisions. There were over twenty whalers in the harbour at this time, and Kororareka was all alive with seamen and their officers. The greater part of the beach was occupied by a Maori pa, or stockade, where great orgies were kept up by day and night.

I had got my trunk with me. It had been brought up to an establishment presided over by a party of the name of Wilson. I was given to understand that he was agent for the Deborah, which was expected daily, and would soon be going round to Hokianga. I asked Mr. Wilson if I could get a guide to take me across the country to the West Coast, which, I was given to understand, was a distance of forty miles, and I would have to walk all the way, for no horses were to be had. So it

appeared I was in a fix, knowing nobody. Mr. Wilson told me there was an American young fellow who had come from Hokianga lately and he might be inclined to act as guide.

I went back to the accommodation house, and asked the proprietor if he could not give me a shake down anywhere. He said the house was full up. If I liked I could sleep on top of the stairs (it was a two-storied house). I consented. He said he would give me something to lie on, and I could take my meals with the others. I went back to Wilson's store, and told him where I was staying, and if he saw the party he told me of he would send him to me. The store of Wilson's was a long building on the beach, full of requirements for whalers. Several captains were in on business, and I noticed a small cask with a tap and tumbler handy. These captains would help themselves occasionally out of the same tumbler. It seemed a permanent institution.

I got a dirty rug to lie on and one blanket. The blanket I rolled myself in, but only took my coat off to make a pillow, and lay down on the top of the stairs. I had to get up early, for those who had sleeping apartments began to come out of them, and I was in the way. At breakfast it was salt junk or pork, for the only fresh meat was got from the Maoris in the shape of pork, but was very sweet eating, for the pigs were fed entirely on vegetable food, and the sweetest of all were the wild pigs,

as I found out afterwards, as they lived entirely on fern root.

While at breakfast a man asked the proprietor if there was anybody there who wanted to go to Hokianga. I had told the proprietor that I was going there, so he brought him to me. He was an American, as I soon found out. He told me he knew where my brother lived, and that he had a sawmill. I engaged him at once, and asked him when we should start. "I guess the sooner we start the better," was his reply. "Well, to-morrow morning or to-day, if I can get a boat, he said, to take us across to Waitangi."

He arranged for a boat for us in the morning. I went to see what was to be seen. I learnt that this was the seat of Government for a short time, but, as the surrounding land was very poor, they had removed the headquarters to Auckland, on the Waitemata. I entered the native pa, and saw some of the Maoris for the first time; the tattooing on their faces made them look very fierce. It was only the men whose faces were quite bluish black. Some were only partially tattooed, others fully. One I saw quite nude from his breast to his knees. He was covered with spiral designs of tattoo. The women were tatooed on the lips and chin. A few I noticed had two figures like a candlestick on the forehead just above the nose.

The Bay of Islands at the season is full of life and business, as I can believe. Ships

[Inserted unpaginated illustration]

Nene, baptised by the Wesleyan Mission Thomas Walker, otherwise Tamati Waka Nene.

come empty to take back full loads of oil. The merchants on the beach also buy oil, and some ships draw money to pay wages, and the drafts on the owners were always paid.

I am told thirty ships have been seen in the harbour at one time, including, of course, ships loading oil for America, and allowing the ships from which they got the oil to cruise for another year.

Next morning the boat was ready, and my guide also. He advised me to get tobacco to pay our way across, so I purchased two pounds of fig tobacco. It was all figs in those days. I settled with my host, who charged 1s. per bed and 1s. 6d. for meals. I saw Mr. Wilson before I started, and he said he would be sure to send my trunk when the Deborah arrived.

We started and pulled across the harbour to the other side, but I found out after landing and the boat had gone that we were on the wrong side of the river, and we would have to recross. We blundered through mangroves. I had taken my shoes off and rolled up my trousers to my knees, when small black flies swarmed about us and bit very sharply. This was a new experience for me. "I said to my guide, are these flies always about?" "Oh no," he said, "they are only found amongst mangroves." "Then let us get out of the mangroves as soon as possible. But where is the road?" said I. Kenny, for that was his

name, scratched his head, and said, "There is a native settlement not far off, and they will put us across in their canoe."

We found the settlement, and saw the Waitangi Falls. The settlement was some twenty yards above the falls. My guide jabbered something half English and half native, giving the native or Maori, as they are called, two of my figs of tobacco to put us across the river.

The canoe was hollowed out of a large tree, and the paddles were quite artistic in form. I sat down in the bottom of the canoe and my guide and the Maori pulled us across. The Maori pointed out where we would find the road to Waimate, the headquarters of the Church of England Mission. It turned out a broad track, and we could not miss it. I began to lose faith in my guide. When we started on the road it began to rain, and came down heavy and soaked us through. We trudged through the rain and came to the Waitangi River again. We had to cross here. We could not tell its depth, so I took off my wet clothes to ascertain how deep it was, and dived, when I struck my head on the bottom. The river was running muddy from the rain.

My guide ought to have known its depth, as he must have crossed it before. It was nearly breast high right across. Kenny did not strip. He carried over my clothes on his head, taking care the tobacco did not fall into the river. We found the track again with dray marks of

wheels, which we followed, and got to Waimate about dusk. The first house I enquired at was inhabited by two shipmates of the Portland, Messrs. Lowe and Motion, who were surprised to see me.

I was equally gratified, you may be sure. And they were so kind, and gave me dry clothes and hung up mine by the fire to dry. Kenny also was attended to. They had come to New Zealand shortly after landing in Sydney, and had been putting up a flour mill for some of the mission people, near Waimate Missionary Station. They had heard of my brother's arrival at Hokianga. I asked how they liked the country. They said it was a fine country altogether. They intended going to Auckland soon to erect a mill on their own account.

Next morning our clothes had been dried. After breakfast we left our hospitable hosts, and proceeded on our journey. We passed a beautiful lake of water, called Omapere, and then entered a grand forest, so different from those in Australia, where the trees show little shade. Here the rays of sun scarcely pierce the dense foliage, and the variety of trees is numerous and quite new to me. There were giant fern trees and a beautiful palm tree – the nikau – here and there. The track was only a footpath, and sloppy after the rain. I had to follow Kenny, for there was not enough width to permit two men abreast. We saw several large pigeons flying about, otherwise the forest

seemed devoid of birds compared to Australia. The track led us to a stream, the Utakura, which apparently had its source in the lake. The river was not deep, and was easily forded. We took our boots off, the water barely reaching our knees. We then came to Maori cultivations, and to what they call a pa, or stockade. Here we were invited to take food, wild pig and sweet potato. The chief of this pa was named Taonui. He was one of those who signed the Treaty of Waitangi. The sweet potatoes were called kumara, and were very palatable. They have them in great variety. Some were watery, and others quite mealy. They or their forefathers had brought them from an island, Hawaiki, somewhere, I presume, on the South Seas.

The natives did not ask for any remuneration, but gladly received a few figs of tobacco. What fine stately men these Maoris are, and their tattooed faces seemed to add to their dignity. They were dressed in different kinds of mats, and some had scarcely any clothing at all on. The women were fairly good looking. Their lips were all tattooed. There were a number of children running about quite naked.

Kenny had told them I was a brother of Te Wepiha, that is how they pronounce Webster, and they all shook hands before I left, as the white man does. A few miles further took us to the Horeke.

My brother's mill is up a creek called Wairere, not far off. At Horeke we found a large ship being built. A number of men were employed sawing planking for the frame, which was set up. Two of the men came out with my brother in the Bengal Merchant. They told me a fresh had carried away a dam he had put up, and he had a lot of Maoris engaged repairing it. Kenny professed to know the way up the creek, so we started. When we got to the creek it was high water, or pretty near it. He said he could have waded across if the tide was out. I proposed to make a raft of dry timber, and put our clothes on it and push it before us, and get over, for the creek was no width. I asked how he had got to the mill when he first got there. He said in a canoe with Maoris.

I now lost faith in him entirely, for he did not seem to know where the place was. We got across right enough, and then we could not put our clothes on, being just out of the water. The sun was hot, and we walked about until fairly dry, with only our hats on. When pretty dry we dressed, and came to a small creek, too wide to jump, and went further up and sat sunning ourselves till the tide had ebbed from the mangroves and the creek. We took ourselves off, and rolled up our trousers to the knee and crossed over. Then we came to another creek. By this time the tide had ebbed sufficiently for us to wade over. The first white man we met was a Mr. Eli Dudley. He told

me that the mill was half a mile further up. He also confirmed what was told us at Te Horeke, that the dam had been carried away, and he had some Maoris working for him. We got there at last, dead beat. I had not seen my brother for three years, and as no letter from me had reached him, he could not tell if I was coming or not. We shook hands over and over again. I told him of the difficulty we had in getting to him. He said there was a good track to the other side of the river, and we could have crossed over quite easily. If the tide was out we could have got over, and if the tide was in a native would have brought us over in a canoe. But my guide, as a guide, should have known his way better.

My elder brother was an easy going young man, as I soon found out, and could not fight the battle of life as most people have to do. He being the eldest of the family had all the support of the family and connections, and had a large deposit in the London Joint Stock Bank. At Te Horeke lived an ex-Lieutenant of the Navy, named McDonnell, and here my brother, when he required stores or trade (for little money was required in those days) would draw on his deposit at Home, but he had to take samples of all the trade in the store at the time, not what he really wanted. If he wanted tomahawks to cut fresh clearing for the natives, or spades or tinder boxes, or blankets, he would return with some of the

articles mentioned, plus Jews' harps, musical apples, leather belts, and such a miscellaneous lot of articles that he said he had to take, and the price at least 100 per cent. to 200 per cent. of their original value. As there was not much to eat in the house, he said he would have to go to Te Horeke to get a supply. Kenny said there were lots of pigeons in the bush. I took my gun, for I had it still with me, and powder flask and shot-belt of the period, and started for the forest. A dog belonging to my brother followed me. I saw no birds, and missed the dog, when I heard a loud squealing not far off, but out of sight. What struck me then was the grandeur of this forest, with fern trees fifteen to twenty feet high; palm trees also, for the climate here is semi-tropical, and here were giant kauri trees and every variety of foliage. But I must return to the squealing, and I was hastening thither all the time when I came to the dog, which had a small wild pig by the ear, that was squealing for all it was worth. I could not stick it for I had only a pen knife, nor shoot it in the head while the dog had it by the ear, so I searched for some tough leaves and found a long palm leaf tough enough to hold it. I caught the pig by the hind legs and tied them together, drove the dog off, and shot my pig in the head. With my pen knife I disembowelled it, and dragged it towards the weather boarded house, when I met a Maori man, who talked to me, but I could not understand him. I allowed him

to drag the pig to the house, when Kenny took up the conversation in what was supposed to be Maori on his part. He said the Maori would make a hangi, whatever that meant, and cook it for us. He took it across the creek, Kenny approving.

It was well I killed that pig, for my brother did not return for three days. He had been advised by McDonnell and his storeman, Marriner, to go in a boat with a crew up a river, named Waima, and purchase a load of sweet potatoes and the ordinary potato for both parties. Meanwhile Tipene Toro (for that was the name of our friendly native) brought over to us, in small baskets, portions of the pig with sweet potatoes, and I never enjoyed so nice a meal as this, all cooked, as Kenny told me, in the earth. I found in the house plates, knives, and forks. There was certainly a table in the house, a wooden stool or two, and one bedstead.

Tipene Toro was very attentive to us, and brought us from over the creek meals regularly. After the third day, about midnight, my brother returned with a large supply and the usual supply of trade and etceteras, previously described. I learnt from him afterwards that for his draft in London he allowed 25 per cent. to be deducted as exchange, and the et ceteras he got, as I stated before, was 100 per cent. to 200 per cent. on original cost.

Meanwhile the Deborah schooner had arrived at a place called Kohu Kohu, and I got into a

canoe, Kenny pulling, and went down to see if my trunk was on board. I went up to the agent of the vessel, Mr. Russell, who told me it had not been shipped, and was probably left behind at the Bay of Islands. He asked me inside his house, and introduced me to a Mr. J. Peter Dumoulin, who had been surveying some land for Mr. Russell.

I was much disappointed at not receiving my trunk. The Deborah was to return to Hokianga again, and Mr. Russell promised to instruct the captain to ship it. Before leaving we all partook of some dark brandy and water. I had all my clothes in the aforesaid trunk, and could not get a change. On returning to the creek, or river Wairere (which meant, I was told, running water) I told my brother my fix, and he gave me a change while Kenny washed mine. I had to roll my brother's trousers half way up to my knees, for he was much taller than myself, and slept in bed with him until he put up another bunk for me. It was a very primitive house altogether. Kenny slept on the floor, clothes on, with a pair of blankets round him.

I had great sport, for the pigeon food was plentiful. At this season they live on a red berry growing on a tree called miro. So fat are they when feeding on this berry, that when shot they look like a lump of fat, and so delicious. I got a fresh supply of powder and shot from Mr. Russell.

Meanwhile my brother, seeing that no dam could be constructed to withstand the winter rains, examined the creek further up, and proposed to make a water-race of timber down to his mill, and I helped him in his work, and the next trip of the Deborah brought me my long wished for trunk. That timber race was finished, but did not answer.

Another brother came out from Home in the Jane Gifford. Fellow passengers with him were Robert Graham, at one time Superintendent of Auckland, and a well known identity, Mr. Robert Mitchell, in connection with Brown and Campbell, who built the first brick house in Auckland, in Shortland Street, the only street Auckland had at that period.

My brother George came to join us at Wairere. He had brought out with him a great quantity of useful trade for the natives.

Every Sunday my brother William went to the chapel of the Wesleyan persuasion, and ultimately joined that Church. I usually went with him. The Church was near the mouth of the Wairere. Now we got a proper boat built, and every Sunday we went to church or chapel (as it was called). There was a bell tolled for service. The natives had helped to build the chapel, but there were no seats, except for the white people. The natives squatted down on the floor on their mats.

The Rev. John Hobbs occupied a good house on Mount Wesley, while the Rev. Mr. Woon

resided near the beach. I learnt that other missions were in various parts of the Hokianga River, and also a Catholic mission was established by Bishop Pompallier lower down the river.

At this time the mission people were supplied with articles of trade from Home, and those converts who attended chapel and had put away their surplus wives had the run of the trade, and many of the highest chiefs were converted.

I was told a story, but can't vouch for the truth of it, of a great warrior who applied to be baptised. He had three wives, and was told he must put two away. He went to the kainga, or native village, a sad man, but turned up again in another year. When asked if he had put away his two wives, he replied they had been killed and eaten. He was surprised that he was rejected once more, and wondered at ways of the pakeha, for the two extra were slaves. He retained his chieftain wife.

There was at that time quite a village of huts all along the beach towards the mouth of the Wairere. Sunday was called Ratapu or sacred day, and Saturday was named Ra horoi whare, or the day of house cleaning, for the natives had observed that the mission people on that day always cleaned house.

There was, I forgot to mention, a supernumerary missioner, named Stannard, also at Mungungu (the name of the station).

On Sundays the mission people would visit the various sawing stations on the river, and preach to the sawyers. On one occasion they visited two sawyers up a creek on the opposite side of the river. It was a narrow creek, and the native pullers had to pole the boat up. They heard the saws going on a Sunday as they neared the pit unobserved. "I am ashamed to find you at work on a Sunday," exclaimed one of the missionaries. The top sawyer was dumfounded, when he was so addressed (for he had not heard the boat). "Well, d – – -n my eyes if I knew it was Sunday, did we Bill?" (addressing the lower pitman) "I'm d – – -d if I knew," said his mate.

"Now," said the missionary, "you both are swearing to make matters worse."

These were strange times and strange manners.

My brother and I were always invited to tea at Mr. Hobbs', and they were always kind and hospitable, but I am afraid they made few real converts. The natives, as I have already said, knew that by being baptised they secured the coveted tomahawk, spade, axe, and blankets, and all good things. That more than the belief in the doctrines of the missionaries filled the chapel.

In fine weather many of these sawyers would pull down to Mungungu to attend service, and would squat down amongst the natives on the floor. They guessed there was a little jealousy

between the Hobbs and Woon families. They generally came in canoes. On landing, the best dressed of the party would run up to Mr. Woon's house and eagerly inquire who was to preach to-day. "Oh," he would exclaim (scratching his head) "if we'd known, we would not have come. We thought it was Mr. Woon's day." "Oh, come in, and have a cup of tea." (Human nature).

The natives like singing hymns, and that also helped to fill the chapel.

For three or four years I remained with my brother, and made a fine orchard at Wairere. The missionaries did much good in introducing the peach, apple, pear, and the vine, and the peaches spread rapidly on the banks of rivers where the peach stones had been thrown, or in open country. There was no bird or beast to interfere with the fruit. Everywhere were peach trees loaded with fruit in its season.

The Tupakihi berry was also squeezed through muslin or dry grass to retain the poisonous seeds, and made a delicious drink. I have filled a bucket of the juice in an hour or so. To swallow the seeds brings on convulsions, or even death. Down south the shrub is called tutu. The beautiful bird, the tui, or parson bird, is very fond of the berry, swallowing seeds and all with impunity.

In July, 1844, I made the acquaintance of Dr. (now Sir John Logan) Campbell. He had come to Hokianga to arrange with Mr. George

Frederick Russell for a cargo of hewn kauri spars and baulk timber, for the Home market (London). All squared by the Maoris.

In September of the same year a ship arrived for the above cargo, Captain Daldy in command.

One day Mr. Russell, Dr. Campbell, and Captain Daldy came up to see the mill at Wairere. The former gentleman had written to my brother that the party were coming, so we had a log on ready. The water was turned on, and a fair amount of cutting was shown them.

I may here remark that this mill never paid my brother. He spent many thousands of pounds on it, but it was always breaking down. He was no engineer, and had never learned to work a mill, but he had the confidence of my friends at Home. Nearly up to the time of his death, at the age of 89, he still persevered with that mill. At one time he tried steam. That also was a failure. He died in 1895.

Returning to Dr. Campbell. He proved afterwards a lifelong true friend of mine. He is a few months older than myself. There were many years before us, the events of which will be related at the proper time.

My brother married in 1850. One of his daughters married Mr. Cardno, an Auckland merchant, another married Mr. J. McKell Geddes, also of Auckland, and now sole proprietor of Brown, Barret and Co.'s business.

1844 – We now heard that Heke, a Bay of Island chief, had cut down the flag staff erected on a hill called Maiki, and that this might lead to some great disturbance if not checked.

I had been learning the Maori language during this period, but was far from being perfect. Regarding Heke's act in cutting down the flagstaff at Kororareka, it was rumoured that some of the whalers gave him that advice, and it is said that when the staff fell some of the whaling crews cheered.

Up to the present I had not seen our greatest chief of the Ngapuhi, called Nene (a beautiful shrub or miniature palm). He was baptised in the name of Thomas Walker, one of the mission fraternity. I will therefore have to give him his full title of Tamati Waka Nene. It is a pity, I think, that they were not baptised in their original names, which had always a special meaning. There are dozens of John Wesleys in the district, which would be pronounced Hone Wetere. Many chose scriptural names. One chose Zerubbabel, and rejoiced in the name of Horopapera.

A Mr. Day lived near where Nene had his kainga (settlement) and invited me to visit him. So I took the first opportunity of going up, hoping to see the celebrated chief, and I wanted to find out what was his opinion regarding the cutting down of the flagstaff by Heke. One fine day I went up river in a canoe, and arrived at Te Papa, where Mr. Day resided. The house

was half a mile from the river. I fastened the canoe to a ti-tree bush, and walked the distance. I had got a good idea from Mr. Day of how I should find the House. I could not go wrong, for a track led me there. Mr. Day welcomed me in his hospitable manner. He had heard of Heke's act, and said much would rest with Nene as to which side he would take. If he joined Heke (which he doubted) all the white inhabitants would have to leave. If he did not he would have to fight Heke, that was inevitable. He told me Nene lived close by, and he would send for him to see me (a pakeha now) a new comer. He had a Maori lad, and sent him to Nene, who said he would come next day.

Next day brought Nene. He was rather short of stature, and rather stout. He shook hands with me after the European habit. Had I been a Maori he would have rubbed noses, their usual mode of salutation.

Mr. Day asked if he had heard of Heke cutting down the Maiki flagstaff, on July the 8th. He said he was going to Kororareka to see what he meant by it next day.

There is no mistake, but the moko (tattooing) gives the natives a most distinguished appearance. I noticed also (for he had a mat only covering his body) that the tattooing reached to the thighs, and body also, I presume.

Nene's was the first signature to the Treaty of Waitangi. The natives were much opposed to signing or making their mark (for few could

write at this juncture). Bishop Pompallier is known to have influenced the Maoris against signing or making any mark on the paper. At this juncture arrived Nene and Patuone, his brother, from Hokianga. Nene addressed the assembled natives with great eloquence, and completely changed the aspect of things, and all were eager to make a mark on the Governor's paper. But for the timely arrival of Nene and his brother the Treaty would have been a failure. Some of the chiefs wanted to send the Governor away.

Nene had been a consistent friend and protector of the pakeha mission folks and others as well. At the same time he was a great warrior, and it was fully hoped that he would disapprove of Heke's action.

We learned afterwards that Tamati Waka Nene, to give him his full name, on his way to Kaikohe, where Heke was then residing, had found the Governor at Waimate, who made a speech, concluding with a demand for ten muskets as compensation for cutting down the flagstaff. Heke's friends immediately put down twenty, but what the Governor would do with them when he got them was difficult to say. The troops were again sent back to Sydney. Better had he kept the troops where they were handy, say in Auckland, but Mr. George Clarke, protector of Aborigines, advised their return to Sydney. Nene, in the presence of the Governor, gave a stirring address, saying that

if Heke cut down the flagstaff again he would have to reckon with him, as well as the Governor. Another chief, named Mohi Tawhai (a little man, but a great warrior) spoke to the same effect. Bishop Selwyn was present on this occasion, as well as Archdeacon Williams and others.

The troops were sent back a second time to Sydney. Heke cut down the flagstaff again on the 10th of January, 1845. Kawiti joined him with more men than Heke commanded originally. The Governor offered a reward for Heke's head. Heke retaliated, by offering a large track of land for the head of the Governor.

Governor Fitzroy again sent to Sydney for assistance. Sir Everard Home in the North Star, one of Her Majesty's ships, arrived at the Bay of Islands from Wellington, and a temporary pa was erected and entrusted to Nene's men for protection. Heke remained at Kaikohe and enrolled many sub-tribes who joined him, as his mana was becoming great. Several of the Hokianga sub-tribes also joined him. Te Ikutae tribe for one, whose chief was called Te Wharepapa, and a great Tohunga (wizard) named Te Atua Wera, with many men, also joined. H.M.S. Hazard also arrived at Kororareka after a stormy passage, when she had to throw overboard some of her guns.

A new flagstaff had been erected on Maiki Hill, and Heke sent word to Mr. Gilbert Mair (an old resident near Kororareka) that he would

cut it down again, as he had done the others. Now, Ensign Campbell had charge of the upper blockhouse, and had three guns commanding the approach. Inside he had twenty soldiers. A deep trench had been dug round the house. Within the house was a signalman and his wife, also the daughter of a Captain Wing, quite a child.

Captain Robertson of the Hazard, with a number of his crew and civilians kept the pass, called Matauhi, near the English Church, at Kororareka, for to-morrow was the day Heke said he would cut the flagstaff down again. (11th March).

Kawiti attacked before daybreak. Captain Robertson drew his sword and killed several of Kawiti's men, when he was himself shot down with four bullets in his body. His crew and the civilians, however, stood firm, and drove off the natives. One of Kawiti's sons was killed in this fight.

Meanwhile the noise of the firing had reached the blockhouse. Ensign Campbell left the blockhouse to go higher up to see better what was going on below. The soldiers followed him. Then Heke (who had been lying in ambush) saw his opportunity, rushed the blockhouse, and killed the few soldiers inside, and in the semi-darkness also tomahawked a child, daughter of Captain Wing, who was moving in one of the bunks. The wife of the caretaker of the flagstaff was allowed to go to the township.

Heke then removed the earth below the iron, cut the back stays, and then cut below the iron, and the fourth flagstaff fell on the day that Heke said it should fall, the 11th March, 1845.

Heke now built a pa close to Okaihau, on the banks of Lake Omapere, midway between the Bay of Islands and Hokianga.

Tamati Waka Nene also built his near the forest of Okaihau to check Heke's progress further west. Taonui built a second pa with his tribe from Utakura, and Mohi Tawhai with Arama Karaka Pi with the Mahurihuri tribe built a third pa, all close together. Then came the Hikutu tribe, and many of the Rarawas from further north.

There was a rising ground near the lake, called Taumata Kakaramu, otherwise the country was quite level, with short ti-tree scrub here and there, and a few clumps of korari (native flax). A creek of clear water ran from the forest into the lake, and served quite sufficient for the purposes of the camp and for cleaning muskets when foul.

Previous to Nene building his pa, he had a great meeting of Maoris and white men, Missionaries also attended. Mr. Russell, Lieutenant McDonnell, and others and myself were also amongst them. Nene spoke first, and stated his determination to keep Heke from coming to Hokianga to disturb that district, and would fight for the Queen and Governor. All this I had interpreted to me, for as yet I could not quite

follow the speaker, but could understand them when speaking quietly.

Maning was also present, a tall wiry man of splendid physique, and his hair fell from his head in ringlets. This was the first time I had met him, but we were great chums in after years.

Francis White, a blacksmith, offered to repair all the muskets that were out of order, and my brother William offered to make a lot of Hamanu's cartridge boxes. He had brought out from England a lathe, so that he could bore the holes without difficulty. The natives were all armed with old fashioned flintlock muskets at that time.

I have forgotten to mention also that two Commissioners, named Richmond and Godfrey, had been appointed by the Sydney Government to enquire into all land purchases made by the white people from the Maoris. They had to bring the chiefs before the Commissioners who had sold the land, and the value of the goods or money paid (little of the latter) was assessed, and if the land exceeded in acreage the value paid it was called surplus land, and went to the Government, not to the natives, as one would expect.

The Baron de Thierry had come down from Sydney a year or two previous to my arrival in New Zealand, and claimed all the country north of the Bay of Islands. He had employed a man of the name of Kendall to purchase that

part of the country for him. Kendall had arranged with the Baron in England before the latter had seen New Zealand, the Baron supplying him with funds for the purpose. Kendall on his return made some purchases from the chiefs accordingly; Nene, for instance, sold him about 600 acres at Waihou, for the Baron. But it would seem that Kendall made default, and appropriated the funds to his own uses. So that when Baron de Thierry arrived in New Zealand, about 1838, to take possession of his kingdom he found that Kendall had disappeared long before, and that the only land to his credit was that of the upright chief Nene, who considered a bargain a bargain.

It was upon this piece of land therefore, on the upper Waihou, that the Baron settled, and issued his grandiloquent proclamations of which this is a specimen: –

"I, Charles Baron de Thierry, King of Nukuhiva, and Sovereign Chief of New Zealand, do call upon all well disposed Europeans to assist me in forming a government," &c.

It went on to say that he would allow all land purchased fairly to belong to the purchaser.

The following is an extract from another of the Baron de Thierry's Addresses, dated Sydney, 20th September, 1837: –

I appeal to every white resident in New Zealand . . . . and to every New Zealander for the truth, and to say whether I did or did not purchase

the land to which I lay claim. . . . I claim the district called the Te Tu One, at the source of the River Yokianga; the District of Wai Hue, adjoining, also Te Papa, containing about 40,000 acres. They were purchased for me by Mr. Kendall from the chiefs Mudi Wai, Patu One, and Nene, in presence of Captain James Herd, and Mr. W. E. Greer, of the ship "Providence," on the 7th August, 1822, and forwarded to England by Mr. F. Hall. . . . . Believe me, residents of Hokianga, that I have not been unmindful of your necessities; I go to govern within the bounds of my own territories, it is true, but I neither go as an invader or a despot; you will find in me a brother and a friend who will be proud of your advice and co-operation in legislative matters, and who, without claiming an unwilling service from you, will preside over you as the guardian of your safety and prosperity. . . . . and shall be accompanied by a considerable number of respectable families, who will add to your society and increase your feeling of security. . . . To all chiefs who shall enter into treaty with me and engage to live in peace with other tribes and with the whites, I will give occasional bounties, and will raise them to a respectable rank in society. . . The settlers may ask about direct or indirect taxation. I do not intend to resort to either. . . . You will judge by the annexed Articles of Agreement, by which I bind those who accompany me, whether I am likely to do good or evil; judge me by my works as the tree is judged by its fruit. . . .
The Articles of Agreement were fifteen in number.

His pretensions were ignored, however, by all the Europeans without exception.

The Baron was a refugee from France in stormy times, and became a French teacher in a gentleman's house in England, and eloped with a daughter of the house. He must have been possessed of means, for he came down to New Zealand in a large ship with a number of Europeans. He had an armourer, Peter Flynn by name, a keeper of the stores, Hargreaves, whose son discovered gold in Australia, a tutor for his children, Tuite, afterwards postmaster at Herd's Point, and who embezzled the post office moneys there, and others. He had several sons and one daughter, who afterwards married Major Matson at Auckland. His eldest son, Charles, was a handsome lad. He and I became very friendly, and he induced me to go with him up north to a place called Herekino. We appear to have been the first white men to have visited that part of the country. The chief, Pukeroa, wanted to annex us to his tribe, and offered to tattoo us, and make us chiefs, but, of course, we would not consent. Then they jeered at us saying we were afraid of the pain. Charley de Thierry could talk Maori fluently, and said we could not show our tattooed faces amongst the white people, but he and I would submit to the hae hae, that is, cutting lines on our arms, which would not be seen. This satisfied them, and very painful it was. They used sharp shells for cutting, and then introduced with a sharp piece of wood the ngarahu, a black pigment, made from

burning a resin of a certain tree, and collecting the smoke as it burned. We had to go shirtless for a fortnight, and sat up at night till a crust formed on the cut. Had I known I should never have submitted, but de Thierry was quite I proud of his ornamentation, though unseen.

A compact had been made between Nene and Hewe that there should be no torohe on the roads (ambush) and when they fought it should be during daylight only, and this was carried out most faithfully in a most chivalrous manner between Nene and Heke's forces, for they were of the Ngapuhi tribe.

Up to the present time Te Atua Wera had not joined Heke, and, as he was a friend of mine, I paid him a visit to ascertain his thoughts. He lived at Omanaia, on the small river of that name. I pulled up in a canoe. When I arrived at his settlement, he told me he expected a visit from Heke, for a messenger had arrived that morning from Heke to that effect. This was just after the destruction of Kororareka, and he was coming on horseback with about a dozen followers, all riding, for they had looted a number of the settlers' horses. I decided to remain and see the man now so celebrated. Some young men had been despatched along the road to give due notice when the party was in sight. About noon the first messenger came in, and said Heke's party were in sight; others arrived with the same tale. I

expected to see Heke at the head of the cavalcade. I could see none of the first who came were at their ease on horseback, probably none of them had ridden before this occasion. When the first horsemen appeared about twenty young men danced a haka. The last to arrive was Heke himself, on a fine horse (looted). He wore as a garment a crimson robe with a yellow border (it looked to me as if it had been a tablecloth, part of the loot of Kororareka). On getting off his horse, which he did awkwardly, he threw off his sanguinary garment and saluted Te Atua Wera by rubbing noses. There was the redoubted Heke standing before me with a great reward for his head. He was tall. His moko (tattooing) was not quite full, but he looked every inch a chief. After rubbing noses with Te Atua Wera he asked the tohunga "ko wai to hoa?" "Who is your friend?" Te Atua Wera, laughing, said, "He will likely meet you on the battle field." "Ahakoa," meaning nevertheless, said Heke, and he offered me his hand to shake as the Pakeha do. All this conversation was in Maori, of course.

Heke had come to consult with the tohunga, having heard that the troops were expected back again, and he wanted Te Atua Wera to consult his familiar spirit and divine the result of the first engagement with Her Majesty's forces. There was a large whare capable of holding over one hundred men, and to-night he would have a consultation with the spirit of the

air. I asked some of the Atuas, Wera's men, to enquire if I would be permitted to be present. The reply was, "e tika ana" (all right). Meanwhile the visitors were fed on pork and kumaras, and when it became dark the party assembled in the big house. Te Atua Wera was at one end of the house, Heke and the rest of us at the other end.

For some time we sat without a sound being heard; suddenly a whistling sighing kind of sound was heard over our heads, and it moved about in a mysterious manner, sometimes a fluttering, and I thought that something actually touched me. It was all over in about twenty minutes. The tide being favourable, I got into my canoe, and pulled up river, quite bewildered with that seance in the dark.

All the people but Heke, who remained for some time alone, waited to hear the result of the first battle with Her Majesty's trops, to come off soon. That knowledge was never divulged, only Heke knew.

Next morning they had left for Kaikohe in the same manner, Heke being the last man.

When the troops had arrived at Kororareka I learned that Te Atua Wera (which means the fiery god) had gone to join Heke with all the men he could muster. Some of the Motu Karaka natives had gone with him also. As long as the white settlers remained in Hokianga they were safe, unless Nene was defeated, which was not at all likely.

I had arranged with Francis White (the blacksmith) to go with him when the troops arrived, and on hearing that they had gone to the Keri Keri, where Nene's men would show them the way to their chief's camp. It was rainy weather, and Nene's people had built a long shed covered with korari and nikau leaves (flax and palm) to keep the rain off, but the troops brought no provisions with them, at least so I was told, not having been there.

When I went to the blacksmith, expecting he was prepared to go to the front, he said his son had gone the day before, and he did not like leaving the family. I doubted if I could find my way through the bush, and White offered me a shakedown for the night, and was very hospitable, but I missed seeing that first engagement with Heke, which I have regretted ever since. I heard all about it when John White, my host's son, returned.

It appears that Colonel Hulme, on arriving, had a good look at Heke's pa, and said he would attack it next morning. He had two rocket tubes, but no field guns. Had he brought two or three of the latter he would easily have overcome Heke. I saw the pa after Heke had left it. Two field pieces could have smashed in one side of the pa by angle fire, but then, I am only a civilian, and supposed to know nothing about these matters. The rocket tubes were wrongly placed also, and only one post of the pa was damaged. The other rockets went over it.

The troops went close to the lake, and gained a rising ground, facing the south side of the pa. Heke had one flag flying at this time. There was a bit of dense scrub on the right of the troops. Nene had given the troops a slave of his as guide, named Hone Ropiha (John Hobbs, after a missionary) and well it was he accompanied the troops, for he examined that bit of bush and found an ambush there, consisting of Kawiti and his tribe, all ready to pounce upon the flank of the troops when they rushed on the palisading. As it was they had to face Kawiti, who fired on the troops, and a flank fire from the pa. During this time Heke ran up a second flag or signal to Kawiti to keep the soldiers from the pa, and so it happened they could not reach it when they drove Kawiti's men into the scrub, and attempted to face the pa. Kawiti came out of the scrub again, and took them on the flank. This continued until evening, when the troops were ordered back to Nene's camp defeated. The men were brave enough, but the commanding officer was out-manoeuvred, and treated the Maoris too lightly. It has been so up to the present time. All this information I got from John White.

The night I spent at Mr. White's was by no means a pleasant one. I had a shake down on the floor, and a rug was given me, and before me he knelt down for prayer, and such a prayer I never heard before. He called for Christ to come down to him, and apparently he came, and

he got hold of his garment in imagination and bawled out, "I won't let go until you assure my soul will be saved." He hammered the ground and struck the wall until he was quite exhausted, and the perspiration was pouring from his face.

Mr. White had a brother, William White. At one time (previous to my arrival in New Zealand) he had been at the head of the Wesleyan Mission in Hokianga. He was a great preacher, but his weakness was Maori women. He was married to a European wife, but his actions were so scandalous and quite open that the rough sawyers could stand it no longer, and insisted upon an enquiry as to his conduct. He had previously sent away Messrs. Hobbs and Woon so as to have every liberty.

Messrs. Hobbs and Woon were sent for. When they came he was asked to appear before Lieutenant McDonnell and Mr. Russell at Te Horeke, Messrs. Hobbs and Woon also being present. Everything was proved against him. Many years afterwards I married Mr. Russell's daughter, and found amongst his papers all the evidence then taken, but, thinking that evidence might get into the hands of some person who would make a bad use of it, I burnt the lot. William White was called to England and dismissed from the ministry.

My brother William having made a lot of cartridge boxes, I got a young native as guide. The cartridge boxes were put into a bag, some twenty in number. A heavy load, but he would not allow me to carry any.

We set off for Nene's camp. Lieutenant St. Aubyn, who resided about one and a half miles from Kohu Kohu, had lent me his rifle to use against Heke. St Aubyn was a naval officer on leave, and had his wife with him.

It had been raining heavy during the night. We passed through Utakura Valley, and had some food at a pa there belonging to Taonui, who had joined Nene, and had erected a pa close to Nene's. We went further up the valley, and had to scale a rather high hill, and entered the forest. The track was quite narrow, and the late rains had made the track muddy and roots of the trees slippery. My comrade with the bag of Hamanu's cartridge boxes got on wonderfully well with his bare feet, better than I did with my boots. After eight hours wrestling with tree roots and mud holes, we emerged from the forest, and came to an open country, and were soon in sight of Nene's pa, with a British flag flying from a long pole within the pa.

I received a hearty welcome from Waka Nene and his brother, Patuone. The latter was the elder of the two, and both were great friends of the Pakeha, and protectors of the missionaries, but Nene was energy personified. Erua Patuone was fully tattooed, like his brother, but much taller.

The Hamanu cartridge boxes were much appreciated. My brother had got leather from somewhere, and covered the boxes and drilled

the holes big enough for the muskets of the natives. I had one of them, and had made a lot of cartridges before I left Wairere.

Patuone was a man of peace. On one occasion he was insulted by a slave at a meeting of natives, and took no notice. Nene looked on, boiling with rage, and seeing his brother inclined to pass the insult, rose, and with one blow of his tomahawk laid the fellow dead.

After the evening meal, I had a look at the pa. It was a square, containing nearly an acre of ground. The sides were strongly palisaded with timber from the forest, hauled and erected by main force of many men, and four feet in the ground, and close together, though it would permit of a musket passing through. These posts were held together by cross pieces fastened by creeping vine from the bush about the thickness of one's finger, called toro toro. Outside the main pa is a sort of curtain, called pekerangi, of smaller stakes, bound in a similar manner with toro toro. But the curtain does not reach the ground, and is supported by stronger stakes here and there, so as to have a clear view of an approaching enemy. At each corner of the pa is an extension, so as to take an enemy on the flank if he came close up. The whares or huts are arranged round the sides of the pa, but not touching it. A deep trench is dug all round, wide enough for a man's body, and here, after firing, they could get out of sight to load their muskets. These muskets

were all flintlocks. Even some of the troops used the same kind of musket, for the percussion cap had scarcely reached the colonies at this time.

Heke's pa is about two miles distant from Nene, and is much nearer the Lake Omapere than we are. Half way is a hill, called Taumata Kakaramu. When either side wished to fight they went to this hill and fired a musket off. The challenge was always accepted. I had brought a blanket with me, and slept in Nene's unfinished whare. Just as I was turning in Mr. William White turned up. He had come out to Hokianga again after being dismissed from the ministry and lived near his brother Francis. He also rolled himself (not in a blanket). He had an oilskin cloak, and we lay in this unfurnished whare. We neither of us slept much for watchmen were calling out all night the mataara, or watch cry. About midnight a karere, or newsbearer arrived from the Bay of Islands, and told those in the pa that Pomare a chief had been taken prisoner, and was then on board a man of war ship, and that troops would soon be here to fight Heke. Towards morning I fell asleep, and woke up very cold. It had been raining during the night, and I was soaking wet. The unfinished hut had let the rain in. Mr. White was better off with his oilskin cloak.

We heard news of the massacre of Wairau, Captain Wakefield killed in the Nelson district, and several others. It was a stupid attempt to enforce the law with a few men.

We had breakfast, consisting of potatoes and kumaras. A large kit full was set before each of us. Mr. White had brought some cooked pork with him, and with tea and sugar we made a hearty breakfast. I hung out my blanket to dry, and went to take a walk round the pa. I met another white man from Hokianga, named William Munro. He had been at the front a week, and saw several engagements. The weather cleared up, and there was a challenge from Heke from Taumata Kakaramu. I looked to see the men setting off to the battle field in a body, but they strolled leisurely. I, with St. Aubyn's rifle, followed. I had kept it in Nene's house, where it would be dry. I had about 200 cartridges made, which I had brought from Wairere with me in a bag. I now filled my cartridge box with twelve cartridges, and went with some of Nene's people to the fray. I noticed some of Nene's men were only clothed with cartridge boxes strapped round them, no clothing. Others had as many as four. The women were all busy making cartridges for their husbands. Some of them even followed their husbands to bring back the empty boxes to be refilled. We heard the firing when we left Nene's pa. He did not go himself.

Mr White had come with us too, but when the bullets whistled over our heads or entered the ground with a clunk he went back. Monro also was with us. He and I and some of Nene's men went to the challenging hill, and were soon in the thick of it. On the side facing Heke's pa some trenches had been dug. I got into one of them. Only a few men appeared at one time on both sides to fire at. I learnt that there were several hundred in the field, but they were all concealed, except a few I saw scattered over a great extent of country. A man would fire at another on either side, and immediately disappear to load his gun. After loading he would appear again, but never standing still for a moment, trotting backwards and forwards so as to avoid the bullets fired at him.

The near bullets were spitting past us as we lay in the holes exposing our heads only. I did not see a chance of firing for some time. At last some of Nene's men had crossed a swamp lying below us, and got near a rise in the ground, where Heke's pa was erected. At the same time some of Heke's men appeared, approaching on the rising ground. Nene's men got covered under the leaves of the korari (flax) and when they approached nearer fired at them. The fired was returned. One of our side had a bullet through the calf of his leg, but he did not seem to mind it much. When he got out of reach of bullets he sat down, and

put some moist clay from the swamp in the wound, and beat it with his fist for some time. He plugged both the entry and exit of the wound, and was fit for more fighting in two days.

As a compact had been made between Nene and Heke that they were to cease fighting at sundown, and it was getting on to that time a distant cry arose of "Ko po te Ra," "The sun is setting." Immediately some hundreds of men seemed to arise out of the ground with a great roar of "Kua po te Ra," "The sun has set." (It is singular that the Egyptian name for the sun is also ra).

The two armies (I may call them) gathered together, for there was not a shot in anger after the sun had gone down, but still it was quite light. Each party was about ten yards from the other. Two men from each side would meet half way, and after rubbing noses would make enquiries as to the casualties of the day. They would tell as far as each knew who had been killed and who wounded. They would mention the names of those who had been killed. (They all knew the principal men) and a name might be mentioned when the opposite party would cry out, "Aue taku hoa" "Alas, my friend" ; perhaps the man who cried out was the very man who shot him.

On returning to Nene's pa we overtook two parties using kauhoas (litters) on which were apparently two dead men. One I knew as the

son of Taonui (Pera Taonui). The other was Taonui's brother, Te Huru. The latter was shot through the breast and the bullet issued out of the back. The former recovered, but Te Huru, after lingering a few days, died, and there were great lamentations, for he was a great chief.

The bullet that struck Pera Taonui, after passing through his arm entered his body, and was never extracted. He lived for many years afterwards. I believe it would have killed a European.

For about a week I emptied my cartridge box, and always took up my position on the hill overlooking the pa. I don't know if I killed anyone or not. An old man took up a position one day in the next trench to mine, and put too much powder in his cartridges. I noticed every time he fired the muzzle rose considerably. I told him of it. His reply was, "Kia nui te tangi," he liked his gun to make a noise.

I omitted to say that after the sun had set and enquiries as to casualties had been made both messengers returned to their respective army, and first one and then the other gave a great hari (war dance).

It was a grand sight, and set one's blood boiling and made the ground shake.

Next day our people challenged Heke. When I got to the hill, and what I considered my own trench, I found my old friend occupying his also. He kept loading and firing in the air, as

usual, but suddenly he ceased firing. I thought he had used up all the cartridges he had, and kept firing myself, as the foe gave me an opportunity.

About afternoon a party of the Rarawa natives from the north side of Hokianga River had arrived. I knew some of them. They had chosen to join Nene, and had brought some live pigs to Nene, driven by slaves. Part of the Rarawa, mostly young men, had come on the battlefield to have a shot at Heke's warriors. They lay a little to my rear, sheltered by the top of the hill. They kept firing over our heads. Another party of the Rarawa had crossed the swamp under us, and lay waiting for a fresh party from Heke's pa they had seen coming towards the swamp. They had sheltered behind dead manuka shrubs. Heke's men came nearer and nearer, one man ahead of the others looking out. That man spied the Rarawa behind the bushes, and fired into them. The Rarawa started up and fired into Heke's men, which was returned by them, and two of the Rarawa were wounded. The party of Rarawa now joined the others over the swamp, having filled their cartridge boxes. Their women also accompanied them, having fetched them cartridges in kits made of flax. There was quite a fierce encounter across the swamp, and all were hidden in smoke. The sun was now going, and "Ka po te ra" was raised with the usual messengers, and afterwards the hari. I thought

then my old friend in the next trench to me had used up all his cartridges, for he had ceased firing for a long time. I went to his trench, and saw he would never fire again, for a bullet had entered his forehead over the left eye. I hailed two young fellows, and they carried the poor fellow, time about, nearly two miles to Nene's camp. He belonged to Taonui's Tribe of Utakura.

It is wonderful how few men are killed with muskets. In their old wars it was man to man. They seized each other by the hair, and the best man killed his opponent.

Next day a recruit joined us as we left Nene's camp, the notorious John Marmon. He had been a convict, and was serving his time in one of His Majesty's ships on the coast of New Zealand. He managed to escape, and was sheltered by a chief named Hone Kingi (baptismal name for John King). His native name was Raumate, and he gave Marmon his daughter as wife.

Marmon joined them in their wars, and on one occasion brought a basket of human flesh cooked in their earth ovens and offered some of it to George Nimmo, who refused it. Marmon said he had no idea how good it tasted. He could not however induce Nimmo to taste it.

Marmon seemed to dodge the bullets, for he was for ever ducking his head or jumping from side to side as the bullets whistled passed us. We took shelter under a small hillock, and

found a party of wahines there for shelter also, but the humming and spitting of the bullets over our heads was incessant. The muskets and the men using them were alike. The bullets nearly always went too high, and few hit what they aimed at during that period.

An old man kept firing away at a native half a mile distant, who he said was one of Heke's spies. I convinced him at last he was wasting powder.

We now heard that Heke was building a very strong pa at Ohaewai. I returned to Wairere and found my brothers, William and George, had left the mill and gone to Te Mata, close to the Mission Station. William White had also come back. He lived a little distance from the Mission Station. His brother Francis (the blacksmith) still nearer the Mission Station, who lent my brothers a storeroom to sleep in.

William White, the ex-missionary, was not long at home before he exhibited his old propensity. I was witness to a taua made on him by the natives of a tributary of the main river. There were about fifty stalwart men and a few mere boys. After a war dance the leader roared out, "Murua, murua," and instantly the store was broken open and plundered, and the youngsters chased and caught fowls, tore their heads off, and sucked the blood. They took his servant (Maori) away with them, for she was partly the cause of the taua, or plundering party. These tauas are very frequent, and for all sorts of reasons.

If a young man meets with an accident, incapacitating him from ever being capable of using a weapon of defence again, the tribe would make a taua on the father for not being more careful of his son. If a woman left her husband, that was another cause. The father or husband in either case would have a raid made on them, and the unfortunates were proud of it, for the larger the taua the more he considered the respect paid him. Of course these tauas were never resisted.

I now formed a small troop for sword exercise. The dress of the period was a blue shirt (serge) with a belt round the waist, and trousers, of course, and a blue cloth cap. I had learned the sword exercise and drilled them. There were three sons of the blacksmith, Charley de Thierry, and a son of a Mr. Gittos (afterwards an esteemed parson of the Wesleyan persuasion).

I visited Mr. Russell occasionally. He told me that the Ihutae tribe, living near him, had told him part of their tribe were assisting Heke's men in building the pa at Ohaewai, and that the huge uprights would resist heavy gun fire. Their chief, Te Wharepapa, was superintending the work.

There was a ship loading spars for the Navy soon to sail for London. Mr. Russell was the shipper. As my brother George wanted to return to Scotland again, I made arrangements with the captain for his passage to London,

thence to Scotland. When quite loaded the ship had to wait for a fair wind to go down the river, and out to sea.

I asked the captain to go with myself and John White for a pig hunt at the bush behind the Mission Station. He readily consented. We took some provisions with us, and John White had some pig dogs, which we took also. So we three started to the forest and looked for traces of pigs. We saw where they had been rooting in the forest, but the dogs had no scent. It was a dull day and we finally lost ourselves. I gave John White my rifle and climbed a sapling tree to see if I could discern any water anywhere, either the river or creek, which would instruct us as to our position. I did see a creek, which must be Wairere, as there was no other water near the Mission, and it was not the river. We sat down and had something to eat out of a Maori basket of flax leaves, and something out of a bottle also, which the captain produced, after which we started for the creek.

We got into a very wild country. Huge rocks overgrown with creeping ferns and other plants, while great trees with spreading roots made our descent very difficult. Just then we heard one of our dogs barking. I said we would have a pig at last, but John White was doubtful as if it was a pig we would have heard a squeal by this time. We had to cut long poles for ourselves now to feel the way on the huge rocks, in which

were crevasses overgrown with rocks and creeping vines. We could hear the water trickling at times far beneath us. The dog still gave voice occasionally, but its mate with us took no notice. I was the first to reach the barking dog. It was no pig he was barking at, but under an overhanging rock were three Maoris with mats on smiling at me. I realised at once I had come on a wahi tapu, or sacred spot, where the tohunga, or sacred priests convey the tribal dead. Only the tohungas are allowed to visit the sacred spot. If an ordinary Maori happened by accident to come as we had come on this spot he would very likely die from fear of the dreaded tapu.

As the tapu had no fear for us we examined the vicinity. These three men must have been rangatiras (chiefs). Before them lay their wooden weapons. When I took one up it broke in my hands, quite decayed. The mats crumbled up on touching them also. The lips were drawn up as if smiling, and the moko on their faces was perfect. One had his hand outside the mat. It had long nails, and I touched it with my hands. We now examined the locality, and found great caverns full of skeletons, hundreds of them. The large bones of each were tied by vines (mangi mangi) and the skull lying on top of each heap.

I handled some of the skulls, and within one I heard something rattling. I found

it to be an ear ornament of transparent greenstone. John White found a rehu, or Maori flute, made of the arm bone of a human being. He afterwards gave it to Sir George Grey, and it is now in the Art Gallery of Auckland. I found also a beautiful carved box, containing a greenstone image, called hei tiki, which I still have. I told the Captain, to frighten him, if he told anyone he had been in this sacred spot he might lose his life, and moreover they might seize his ship.

As we were leaving I observed deep down a crevasse something like a coffin. A rata tree had sent its roots down towards it. I gave my rifle to the Captain to hold while I scrambled down the root. The coffin, or long box, was on a ledge of rock, and a small stream trickled below. I swung the root to get my foot on the box, and managed to do so, when the lid started up, and for the instant I imagined I saw a figure of a man, but it disappeared. I must have been mistaken, but really I saw the moko and face and a stout body. A belt of kiekie, which had been round him when placed in the box or coffin was still there, standing up showing what a huge man he must have been. All about was a huge Golgotha, a sacred burial place of the Ngatitoro tribe. I again urged the Captain to be careful not to say anything about the day's discovery.

When we reached the creek the tide was out, but this small creek was unknown to me. I

found out afterwards it was called Kapa Ti, a sacred creek, up which the bones and bodies of the dead were brought at night in a small canoe. These canoes were always left at the landing place, and we saw such a lot of them; the lower ones decaying and the top ones more or less sound.

We now, at least John White and I, knew where we were, and we kept in the forest, and when near the river we went up hill so as to come out on the track we entered. The box I got I put into the basket, or kit, and tied or overlapped my handkerchief round it to conceal it, and when I got to Te Mata put it into my trunk, which had been brought from Wairere with the other et ceteras, when my brother removed from his place.

He could do nothing while fighting was going on, for all his Maoris had gone to fight Heke, and no one could tell when it would end or how it might spread, for the Maoris dearly love fighting.

The Osprey sloop of war came into the harbour on the evening I arrived, and addressed a letter to Mr. Russell, announcing an intention of attacking the pa of the Ihutae tribe, close to Kohu Kohu, where Mr. Russell resided. Captain Patten, who commanded, was a headstrong individual, and had he carried out his intention it would have placed the lives of all the settlers in jeopardy.

Mr. Russell called the settlers together, and a letter was prepared and sent on board to the Captain, to the effect that Nene and Heke had both declared Hokianga neutral ground, and it would be most imprudent for the commander of one of Her Majesty's ships to jeopardise the settlers' lives and property by such action as he proposed.

He did not attack the pa, and we heard no more about it.

I have that letter before me now, which I copied before it was sent on board, dated 16th January, 1846.

St. Aubyn, my brother, and myself, as well as other settlers, appended their names to the letter in reply to the Captain's threat. St. Aubyn showed me a letter he got from Captain Beckham, an official at Kororareka, saying that no assistance could be given by the Government in the way of help, and advised all the settlers to form a camp and protect themselves, but there was no necessity whatever, for the Maoris would respect the compact between Heke and Nene.

As I intended going to the front again, St. Aubyn kindly allowed me to retain his rifle.

In October, 1845, Fitzroy was recalled, and Captain G. Grey took his place as Governor. Heke now abandoned his pa near Omapere Lake, and went to his stronghold at Ohaeawai.

Captain Patten with his ship left for Auckland, and got every information of Heke's new

pa at Ohaeawai. It was enormously strong. At every corner was what otherwise would be a tower, faced with flax and projecting outwards, so that they could take any party assaulting in the flank.

Nene shifted his pa to the Ahuahu, a rather high hill, it being also an extinct crater. The cone was perfect, and very deep scoria walls were all about. These had enclosed old Maori cultivations. There were traces of old pas, but all hidden with tall fern. Nene improvised a hasty stockade against surprise. Taonui joined, as did Mohi Tawhai with his men also.

We heard that Heke with a large force intended to try conclusions with Nene and the others. If he could beat them, he would have only the soldiers to meet at Ohaeawai.

Nene had not been able to strengthen his pa, as he had returned from fighting the Kapotai. They burned the pa belonging to that party, and killed all their pigs, at the Bay of Islands. It was the Kapotai tribe who killed Hauraki, a young chief who was brother-in-law of Maning, who wrote "Old New Zealand."

Heke mustered nearly a thousand men, and was nearly surprised in his indifferently erected pa. It was left for Taonui to defend.

Nene had more than 500 men altogether, but he was a great force in himself. Had it not been for an old woman, who went out at break of day to gather firewood the pa might have been taken with great slaughter on both sides.

I followed Nene. His brother Patuone remained with Te Taonui to defend the pa, which was assaulted by Te Kahakaha, a renowned warrior.

I could see little through the smoke to fire at. Men began to drop here and there. Loading and firing continued. I noticed John Marmon in the fray. There was little or no shouting, but a continuous rattle of musketry. Before I had fired off my twelve shots (a cartridge box full) Heke's men had retreated. They were so close together that they suffered most. Marmon got behind a scoria wall and killed one of Heke's men and brought his musket into camp.

After all was over, some of Heke's men were tomahawked. Waka Nene seemed everywhere exhorting his men, "Kia toa," (be brave) was called out on our side.

More than once Heke's men charged us, but we were in possession of a long scoria wall, and they had more than double the men killed that we had.

Meanwhile Te Kahakaha had been fighting the defenders of the pa, aided by Te Whare-papa and his tribe, the Ihutae. (It was the pa of the Ihutae that Captain Patten intended attacking when objected to by Mr. Russell and others).

Te Kahakaha fell in front of the attacking party. His body was carried away by three Hokianga men of Heke's forces. One of them I

knew well. His name was Hoao, belonging to Motukaraka.

After that the soldiers arrived at Te Waimate. I went with Nene to see them. They were under Colonel Despard. They occupied some houses that had been given up to them. They had tents also and field guns.

I forgot to mention that Heke also was badly wounded, and taken to Torotoro, where the Mission people attended to his wounds. After which he went to Ohaeawai, where many men were strengthening the pa, which had originally belonged to Pene Taui, a man I knew well also, but an adherent of Heke.

The pa was made very strong, great posts of hardwood sunk six feet in the ground, which would stop any ball from the guns I saw with the troops.

I think I have already described this pa at Ohaeawai.

When at Waimate, Nene arranged with Colonel Despard that he would leave Ahu Ahu the same morning that the troops left, and would occupy a commanding position on the range above the pa.

We started before daylight, and travelled for some miles. It had been my first journey in this direction. A number of men and women followed with potatoes and a few pigs for provisions.

It was evident to me our party knew the country well, for there was no hesitation at any

time as to the road we were to take. Just as day was dawning we stopped, and I was told Heke's pa was just over the hill. We soon could hear the tetere (bugle) of the troops afar off, which annoyed Nene, and he called for about fifty men to go with him to the top of the hill to see what Heke was doing (or rather those within the pa, for Heke had not yet and never did recover from his wound). When we got to the top of the Hill we saw the Maoris driving their pigs into the pa.

We were all lying down at that time, peering in the dim light of early morning. Suddenly Nene called in a loud voice, "Whakatika" (arise) and I soon knew what for. It was a haka, a war dance, and soon they went helter-skelter down the hill, which was very steep on that side. I followed but more gingerly, as I did not see my way as yet. Soon I heard a cannon shot from the pa. Having no round shot they had loaded the gun with broken bullock chains, which made an awful clatter, going through the air. Our people secured half a dozen pigs, and brought them to the top of the hill. By this time the rest of our party had come up from where we first halted, and commenced to fell trees and make a pa. The pigs captured were killed and preparations under Rutu (Nene's wife) were made on the top of the hill for a hangi and bush wood collected for the fire. There were sufficient stones about for the oven. I don't know

whether I have described a hangi before, but I will now do so. A hole is made in the ground, and a fire lit in it. Stones are placed on top, and when heated sufficiently they are taken out or whipped out rather, by a long stick, for they are nearly red hot. The hangi is now lined with fern or any other green leaves, and kumaras, meat and potatoes, or whatever is to be cooked, placed in the hot ground. The hot stones are laid amongst the meat, and all covered with an old mat, usually, but, failing that, with more green leaves or fern. Then the earth is heaped over all and a calabash of water poured over the the hangi, which raises steam sufficient for cooking purposes. In half an hour or longer if it is a big hangi, the earth is carefully removed, and the cooked meat is put into baskets made of the flax plant (korari) and served out. Meat cooked in this fashion is sweet and wholesome.

Daylight now was with us. Nene had got a long pole, and hoisted the British Ensign, and everyone was busy felling timber to make a stockade. There was no fear of an attack from the front, for the Hill was very steep, and the back only required to be staked.

We still heard the tetere at intervals, calling a halt when crossing creeks or other impediment. We had anticipated the troops by some hours. Arama Karaka and Mohi Tawhai were with the soldiers, and picked out a hollow immediately in front of Heke's pa. Here the troops encamped. They were invisible from the

pa of Heke, except perhaps, from the corner of the pa, where look-outs were posted.

Several tents were pitched, a large one for Colonel Despard and smaller ones for the troops. Blue Jackets from H.M.S. Hazard came a day or two after, under Lieutenant Phillpots, who was a great favourite with the Maoris. I forget how many guns the Despard had, but they were too light to be effective in making a breach. It took a few days to select positions for the guns.

Mr. F. C. Maning joined us on Nene's Hill. In a day or two after the troops arrived the guns were placed in position in front of the pa, not, as Maning and I expected, to make a breach.

Two of these guns were brought up to Nene's camp. They were hauled up by the soldiers, and began to fire down on the pa, but with no result. If the larger of the guns had been placed so as to keep up an angle fire on the pa, in time, no doubt, a breach would have been made to allow a storming party to get inside. To Maning and me it seemed a childish way of acting. We heard that Despard was of the opinion that by firing all over the front of the pa it would loosen the fastenings and allow a storming party to tear it down. Why, any damage done was repaired every night.

We heard that Heke was still with Te Atua Wera, and a large following at Tautoro, the missionaries attending to his wound.

Colonel Despard now got a 32 pounder ship's gun from the fleet at the Bay of Islands. This gun, if fired continuously at one spot of the pa, would soon have made a breach.

Nene had not quite finished the back of his pa, and one morning, about break of day, when every thing was still, suddenly a war cry was heard and a volley fired into Nene's camp. During the night the enemy had got into the forest and up to the back of our unfinished pa. We ran down the hill, but we saw no individual, for there was a dense fog and a dense forest as well in our rear, so we had to get out as soon as possible. A soldier in charge of the guns was killed, and a son of Mr. George Clarke, a missionary, was wounded. He had acted as interpreter to Colonel Despard. F. E. Maning and I had always our rifles by our side when we slept, and we secured them before we tumbled down hill. I fell several times before I got to the bottom.

Major Bridge retook the hill the same day. Nene was not in the pa when Heke's men rushed it. He had been to see Arama Karaka to consult with him on what Despard was determined to do (assaulting the pa before a breach has been made) which Maoris and ourselves considered madness.

Nene offered to assault the pa in a different direction to where Despard intended operating, but the Colonel would not let him. It would have drawn many men away and there would have been less loss of life.

Meanwhile, Maning, myself, and Nene went to interview Despard. We knew well the strength of the pa and its construction. Maning was spokesman, and commenced with – "Sir, we hear that you intend assaulting the pa, and we have come to say that unless a breach is made it will cause great loss of life, and will fail." "What do you civilians know of the matter?" replied Despard.

Sir," said Maning, "we may not know much, but there is one that apparently knows less, and that is yourself."

Despard got very angry, and threatened to arrest us. Nene now enquired what the chief of the soldiers was saying. Maning told him. "He tangata kumare tene tangata." What does the chief say, Despard enquired of his interpreter (I think Meurant was the interpreter's name). He scratched his head, and said it is not complimentary. "But I order you, sir," said Despard. "The chief says you are a very stupid person," then replied Meurant.

It was impossible to make any impression on the man who had so many fine young fellows' lives in his hands, and he was prepared to sacrifice them through mere obstinacy.

We returned to our hill, and nothing was done for a day or so. Maning always took up a position at the back of a dead puriri tree, and I against the earth thrown up to protect the two small brass guns. Despard had now got from Bay of Islands a 32 pounder gun, and erected

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Troops and Natives under Nene before Ohaeawai Pah.

it at the base of our hill, and fired at the pa. We could see the splinters flying after each shot, and had he continued he could have made a breach without doubt. Next day my rifle got very foul, and wanted washing out badly. I put it alongside Maning's tree, and went to sit on the embrasure where the guns were.

Maning and I never fired except when we saw steam rising in the pa, when we knew some Maoris were there getting the food out of the hangi (Maori ovens). I was unable to fire until I had cleaned my gun as already mentioned. A few bullets were always flying about. For the first time a bullet carried my cap away, and for the moment stunned me. It made only a small abrasion on my scalp. I picked my cap up and went into Nene's hut and told I had ceased firing as my gun was foul and I could not get the bullet down the barrel.

Dr. Thomson had meanwhile come up the hill, and asked Maning for a shot. "Wait until you see steam rising," said Maning, and entered into conversation with the doctor about wounds received by the Maoris. There can be no doubt, said the doctor, that Maoris will recover from wounds that would be speedily fatal to Europeans. He took up my gun at Maning's permission, with the result that he was knocked down by the explosion, as the charge was only half way down.

Colonel Despard, in spite of all advice, determined to storm the pa. Maning and I

went down and found the soldiers preparing shields of flax leaves to block bullets – a stupid thing to do. These were made of a frame of ti-tree with flax leaves outside, and were about 4 x 3 feet, but all were abandoned in the actual assault.

This assault was made on a corner of the pa which was nearest the bush, and which had scarcely been fired at. The party, which consisted of volunteers, was under the command of Captain Grant and Lieutenant Beattie, the bluejackets under Lieutenant Phillpotts.

The bugle sounded the charge, and the party rushed out of the bush towards the pa. Meanwhile the Maoris were firing under the pekerangi, or false front, and our men were dropping.

The result was the death of Grant and Beattie and Phillpotts, and a number of soldiers and sailors. The party was compelled to retreat without having succeeded in the least.

During the night an agonised cry was heard from the pa. The soldiers considered it was one of their number who was being tortured, but I am convinced it was the wailing of the women, who had lost some of their friends, as hitherto the war had been carried on in the most chivalrous manner.

Next morning the soldiers sent a party to ask for the bodies of their dead, and were allowed until noon to take them away. The following night the howling of dogs was heard in the pa,

and some of Nene's people considered that the natives had deserted it. A quiet entrance was made, and this proved to be the case, an old woman who was asleep being found the only person remaining inside.

Phillpott's body was found with part of the scalp taken off, and a war cry was danced on the occasion.

"Tenei te riri te riri nei,
Tenei te toa nei te toa,
Ka whati kau ana te ngaru ki Kororareka,
Te tai ki Tokerau,
Tua hoki ra ki taku ringa, E nau ana
Te upoko o te kauaua i te riri – na!"

"Here's the battle raging,
The warriors being brave, the warriors being brave,
The waves dash unheeded on the beach of Kororareka, on the beach of Kororareka.
Behold in my hand I have the head of the hawk that fell in the angry battle."

The bodies of the rank and file, Beattie, Phillpotts, and Grant were finally taken to Waimate, and there buried, with tombstones afterwards erected over them.

The soldiers now pulled down and burnt the greater part of the pa, but found much of the palisading too huge to be torn up.

Heke was still at Tautoro, under the care of the missionaries for his wound, from which he never recovered.

In the meantime Kawiti had gone to Ruapekapeka, and built a pa there. A dense forest was in front of it, which had to be cut away before the troops could be brought up to its face.

Charles de Thierry and I went over. On our way we rested at a creek near Waimate to partake of refreshments, and heard voices of people approaching. These proved to be Heke's people, who also rested, and we had to conceal ourselves until they left. We travelled near the Kawakawa estuary, and came to a pa of friendly natives, the chief of whom was Tamati Puketutu. From there a military road was being made up to Ruapekapeka. I had a letter to deliver to Captain Grey from St. Aubyn. On reaching the camp a sentry was pacing in front of his raupo hut. On asking for the Governor, the sentry thrust his head into the only doorway shouting, "You're wanted, sir." Captain Grey came out, and I gave him the letter.

He enquired how things were at Hokianga. I said the missionaries and their families were all leaving, and that they had taken all their belongings with them, their church and bell also.

This seemed to annoy Captain Grey, and he thought they were very foolish. After giving him other news, he asked me to join the interpreters' party, but I declined, as I had arranged to go to Auckland in the Government brig Victoria. Meanwhile I noticed that Grey

sighted one of the guns in action, and he was like a volunteer under Despard.

The guns were of course muzzle loaders. After the charge of powder had been rammed home the ball was lifted up by two men and also rammed home. A very clumsy process it was as compared with that of to-day. They kept firing day and night, rockets as well as cannon. These made a great display at night as the course was perfectly plain. The rocket-tubes were fired from a palisading erected in a ravine, not far from the pa. Mortars were also fired from the same spot.

St. Aubyn, who had appeared on the scene to see his friends, returned with me to the Bay of Islands, where we went through the fleet, which consisted of the North Star, Calliope, Hazard, and Elphinstone, and were treated in the usual hospitable manner by the officers and crew. We heard that the pa had been taken on Sunday, the 6th January, 1846. In the meantime Waka Nene interviewed the Governor, and advised him not to take any of the native land as an utu for misdeed. The Governor fully assented. I saw little of the casualties at Ruapekapeka, but my friend, Wi Repa, had three of his fingers amputated one day, a midshipman had a hole made through both his cheeks, and two Maoris were killed near a waterhole.

The Government brig arrived, and I went on board her and sailed for Auckland, the Hokianga Wesleyan Missionaries, Messrs. Hobbs

and Woon with their families being fellow passengers.

This ends my account of Heke's war, in which I had taken a constant part at Okaihau, Ahuahu and Ohaeawai at least. As far as the natives were concerned the war was conducted with great chivalry, the greatest consideration being shown towards the wounded. Very different indeed from the war of the later sixties, where no consideration or quarter was shown. I was then a young man, and the adventure and incidents of that stirring time were such as to be most congenial and exciting, and further developed in me a love for the old native character at its best.

Printed by Whitcombe and Tombs Limited, Christchurch. – -85006

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