CHAPTER III. FROM CHRISTCHURCH TO WELLINGTON...
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CHAPTER III.
FROM CHRISTCHURCH TO WELLINGTON--THE HUTT--LOSS OF THE "CITY OF DUNEDIN" STEAMER--PICTON--NELSON-- WRECK OF THE "LORD WORSLEY" STEAMER.
WITHIN little more than a month after my return from Dunedin, I again took a sad, and perhaps last farewell of Christchurch. Some very dear friends, who had resolved to accompany me into port, and see the last of me, preferred the fatigues of the bridle-path to the dangers of the zig-zag; and. we therefore all proceeded together by the railroad to the Heathcote Valley, where public carriages (carts) are always in waiting to take passengers on to the foot of the hill; and having availed ourselves of seats in one of these so far, we afterwards commenced the ascent on foot.
As we went on our journey, we met the Bishop of New Zealand (Selwyn), and other bishops and clergymen from the different dioceses, all wending their way wearily over the hill, to attend the meeting of the General Synod, then about to assemble in Christchurch. Arrived at the top of the hill, and looking towards the sea, we saw the "Airdale" steamer 1 (which was to bear me away) come into port and make fast to the jetty; it was the same vessel in which I had previously gone to
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Dunedin. Descending the hill into Lyttelton, we, after resting and dining at a hotel, went forth again, and procured my ticket for Manukau (Auckland), then on board the "Airdale," to secure a berth. Only just in time. Found it was likely to be very crowded, and was nearly full already. We made the most of the next morning, the last we should spend together. My friend's husband having passed much of his former life at sea, the sight of his old favourite element now set him longing for a sail; we therefore hired a boat, and went cruising about the fine spacious harbour, 2 and on board a large ship just about to sail for England (in which another friend had taken her passage), where I envied the comparatively comfortable accommodation, and almost regretted, that my desire for seeing more of the world had led me into facing so much discomfort as I was now about to encounter, instead of taking my place in this roomy ship, with a nice private cabin to myself, and no more trouble from shore to shore than the once getting on board, and disembarking at the end of the voyage.
Landing from our sail, we next went exploring the railway tunnel, from its commencement at this end under the hill to join that which is gradually approaching from the Christchurch side, and which, when completed, will do away with all necessity for bridle-path or zig-zag, and convey passengers--and, of course, all goods--to and from port and capital, without fatigue or loss of time. We penetrated this tunnel as far as we could go, which at that time was not above a quarter of a mile.
At about one o'clock we went on board the "Airdale," where my kind friends endeavoured, by various little contrivances, to make my berth more convenient for me; which done, they remained with me on deck till the last moment before starting, and then on the wharf, till my eyes could see them no longer.
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Alas! these adieux are sad trials. I never felt more wretched. There was, however, a clergyman on board whom I knew, and some other acquaintances, who were fall of kindness and sympathy. But soon nearly all were overtaken by the usual malady, not one lady, save myself, escaping it. Dreading the cabin under such circumstances, I stayed late on deck, until extreme cold forced me to go down; and there being no saloon for ladies, I had no alternative but going to bed on my shelf, with six groaning ladies and a squalling baby on the shelves around me, and the stewardess lying on the floor, the place inexpressibly close and horrible.
Watching for the first ray of morning light to mingle with that of the sickly candle that hung in our cell, I then made an appearance of getting up, much to the displeasure of the stewardess, who had therefore to vacate the small area of the floor which her mattress had entirely occupied; and she and I having made our toilets together (such as they were), I hastened on to the flooded deck, where the usual bucket and swab process was going on. 3 After a twenty hours' voyage we arrived at the pier, or (as they call it) wharf, of Wellington--very broad and extensive, commodious, and convenient for shipping. I never remember to have seen a better designed one anywhere.
Wellington is situated on one of the southern extremities of the North Island, in Cook's Strait, in latitude about 41 deg. 20", and 170 miles from Canterbury. It was founded in the year 1840. The harbour is called Port Nicholson. One of the ladies (the owner of the baby) and myself soon went on shore together, and walked through the town, where I called on a lady with whom I was acquainted, and who kindly sent a young friend of hers
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out with me to do the honours of the place, and show me the principal public buildings (some of them very handsome) and some of the prettiest walks; one in particular, famed for its beauty, and called, I think, the Kororiri; On returning on board to dinner, we learnt that the steamer was to be detained here twenty-four hours longer than had been expected, in order to carry some Government despatches (not yet ready) up to the north--Wellington being now the seat of government. To-day being Friday, therefore, we should be kept till eight o'clock on Sunday morning. The following morning (Saturday) the sky looked cloudy and threatening, which threw all the passengers into a state of uncertainty as to how they could pass the day, the majority thinking it safer to stay where they were. At last, after much indecision, it seemed to me out of the question, be the weather what it might, that as far as I individually was concerned, the time should be wasted by remaining on board, and I therefore announced that, rain or shine, I should go off to the Hutt Valley, and forthwith wont on shore alone.
Having ascertained that an omnibus would be starting for the Hutt in about an hour and a half, I had time for a further examination of the town and neighbourhood. Wellington is nothing remarkable as a town, but prettily situated, something like Lyttelton on a large scale, being built facing the fine harbour, at the foot of and up the sides of the hills. It is far inferior to Dunedin or Christchurch; shops also not so good-looking, no gas, and no good foot-pavements. Asphalt was just beginning to be put down, a part of one patch already being begun, by a man from Christchurch, as they said; no telegraph at that time, and no railway. The townspeople seem to be rather lazily inclined. I was anxious to procure some photographic views of the place, but not a shop was open before nearly half-past ten o'clock; and even then, when I had found a photographer's, no one was within. So that, after knocking long in vain, I began to think that I must give up the
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attempt; however, at last, on making a third attack upon the shop, I succeeded. The man seemed discontented with the place, and said it was often so windy that they could not take their shutters down at all during the whole day. Wellington is noted as a windy place, even in New Zealand. It is jocularly said that you can always know a Wellington man wherever he may be, from his habit of clapping his hand down on the top of his hat as soon as he comes out of a house. The houses are of wood, and mostly built as low and flat as possible, not only on account of the winds, but still more in consequence of the frequent shocks of earthquake which take place here.
While strolling about, I met one of our gentlemen passengers, and we went together to secure our places in the Hutt omnibus. Just before starting, five more of our passengers joined us (two gentlemen and three ladies), and we all went in company.
We had a most beautiful drive along the foot of the hills, the road running in and out, following the natural windings of the hills, with the sea on the other side, as far as the bay extends, about six miles, and then three or four more inland, to where the Hutt river rushes through the beautiful valley. The hills are all richly wooded, the road very good and kept in perfect repair, quite level, but with sharp turns and deep inward curves, which make considerable care necessary in driving, as you frequently cannot see what may be on the road a few yards before you, and it is not in all parts so wide as to enable two vehicles to pass easily. The distance along a straight road would, not, I should think, be more than half what it is by this winding and very picturesque one.
The village of the Hutt (I believe they do not call it a town) consists of a few detached houses, for the most part forming one street, with various places of worship, including of course an English church and Roman Catholic chapel. There was no omnibus returning but the one we came in, and that not until past five o'clock,
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so that, after exploring some of the pretty walks about the neighbourhood, we had to dine at the inn. While sitting in the parlour of this house, we heard a strange yelling and stamping going on in the bar, and found it proceeded from three Maori women, who were exhibiting their wild antics. We opened the door at the end of our room, which gave us a full view of them. Some men there, were giving them money and porter, which last they seemed able to drink down in any quantity, tossing off a full tumbler at a draught, and often a second one immediately upon it. They sang some wild, monotonous chants, but perfectly in tune and time with each other; and it was curious to observe the accuracy with which they beat time, each with the right foot, the three feet coming down always at the same instant, so that it sounded like one stamp only, with the leg straight, the (naked) foot perfectly flat, and the motion from the hip. One of them was an old chief's wife, said to be of great age herself, and much tattooed. She was by far the most energetic and active among them, using most vehement gesticulations of arms and body, and acting various passions. Sometimes appearing to be beseeching, sometimes threatening, and singing all the time. Then the three appeared as if rowing in a canoe, squatting on the ground, imitating the action of paddling with their hands, and the sound of it with their voices; then came a lament, with most unearthly howlings, etc. The youngest of the three would not join in the more violent parts, but squatted in a corner, laughing, as if ashamed of the exhibition. This one, we observed also, would not drink any of the porter. They were all terribly ugly.
Frequent and destructive inundations occur here, caused by the river Hutt overflowing its banks, which bear evident marks of the frightful force with which it sometimes rushes along. The destruction of property and live stock from this cause is occasionally very great. At the time we were there, it was a comparatively narrow, though exceedingly rapid stream. We
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crossed it by a very long wooden bridge, extending over three times the space that the river then occupied. We observed that many of the houses, even at a considerable (and what our experience would have thought a perfectly safe) distance from the river, were built upon high piles (some of not less than five feet), and. a flight of open steps, or rather a kind of ladder, going up to the entrance door, showing evidently that the water was expected occasionally to flow under them.
It is said that this was the site originally chosen for the town of Wellington, but it was abandoned in consequence of its being subject to these terrible floods.
We had to perform the greater part of our journey back to Wellington in twilight and darkness, and it was quite dark when we returned on board, which was not pleasant nor even safe, for they have no very civilized method of getting ladies on to these vessels. They have to walk a rickety plank, not very safe even for men. However, all ended well, and we were rewarded for our courage in braving the threatenings of the weather, for the rain had held off beautifully.
At seven o'clock on Sunday morning we fired our gun, as a signal for absent passengers to come on board, and at eight we were fairly off again. Raining hard. I went on deck, but remembering that there would be no place for hanging up wet cloaks and umbrellas, but our wretched little box of a cabin, came down again, and endured the stuffy place as best I could, with all the usual horrors around me. At about ten o'clock, when outside the Heads, the weather began to clear, and I joyfully returned to the deck. The sea was now very rough, and much wind, with the waves dashing over me; but this I did not mind, as the sun and wind would dry my clothes before I went down again. In an hour or two after, we entered the first of a series of bays, when suddenly all became smooth and calm. Bay after bay now opened before us, and as we passed between the various headlands, they seemed to close up behind us, forming a succession of lakes or large basins of
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smooth water, enclosed all round with picturesque and richly-wooded hills, of every variety of form and hue.
At about ono o'clock we steamed up to the wharf of Picton; fine deep water, both here and throughout the bays, the hills shelving down so precipitously into, and beneath the water, that in many places large ships can go close up to land, though in others, as the captain informed me, there are treacherous rocks and shoals just below the water, and out of sight, on which a ship might be quickly wrecked. 4
All this series of bays are said to be between forty and fifty miles long, and the water generally about forty fathoms or more in depth.
The captain told us we could only be on shore an hour here, as he must be off again by two o'clock, in order to get into Nelson the same night. I hurried away, therefore, to inquire the way to a friend's house, but found her husband coming to meet me, they having heard of my intended arrival. After a walk up to their house, and a pleasant half hour spent there, this gentleman kindly ran down to the ship to inquire what was the utmost time I might safely remain, and being told in answer that they would certainly be off in twenty minutes, had to accompany me back immediately, and
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there stayed with me for two entire hours, as, after all, we never started till four o'clock; the cargo that had to be landed taking longer to unship than the captain had expected.
There is very little town at Picton, only a few houses that have sprung up since the discovery of "diggings" in the neighbourhood. Some of the residences are very prettily situated on the hills, and altogether it is a very pretty place in a beautiful bay, called Blind Bay, in consequence, as it is said, of Captain Cook's (when he first discovered it) supposing it to be a strait, but finding no way through, thus named it.
It is situated in the north of the Middle Island, in Cook's Strait, on the opposite side from Wellington.
The houses are all of wood. Beyond the hills, inland about twenty or thirty miles, are beautiful and fertile plains, with excellent pasture, like those of Canterbury in miniature, as I was told. This district is called the Waiarau, and is attracting many settlers. 5
I was much disappointed to find that owing to the delay at Picton, we had lost the tide for going through the French Pass, which I had wished much to do, it being a most curious strait, so narrow that there is not more than the ship's width on either side to the steep hills that form it, and the tide so strong that it sometimes takes a vessel (even a steamboat) and turns it right round, sending it out again the way it came. Not being able to go through this pass, we had in consequence to make a considerable detour round Steven's Island, so that we did not arrive till three o'clock in the morning off Nelson. At that hour I heard the gun fire, and the anchor chain run out, and most glad I felt, for this was the most miserable night we had yet passed. Two women, a very fat old Scotch widow and her great strapping grand-daughter, had come on board at Picton. I had flattered myself that their advent could not pos-
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sibly affect us, as we were crammed full already in the ladies' cabin; found, however, to my disgust that they were actually to sleep there with mattresses on the floor, leaving not one inch of standing room. There was nothing for it, therefore, but going to bed without undressing, which I accordingly did, and of course never slept a wink, neither did the floor party, who were ill the whole night until we cast anchor, and afterwards kept up an incessant chatter with the stewardess (who passed, the night sitting on one of the mattresses, with her back leaning against my berth, thus adding to the suffocating martyrdom I had to endure), about a mutual acquaintance, and some woman who "enjoyed bad health." As they were to land, at Nelson, I hoped they would be going on deck as soon as daylight appeared, but to my dismay I heard the old woman tell her fat companion that they might as well "lay on," as the ship was "comfortable at anchor," for that "the 'bus would not be down at the wharf before ten o'clock!"
Upon this I became desperate, and interposed, asking the stewardess how we were to get up? This had the desired effect, and these people began to move, rolled up their mattresses and sat upon them, leaving me just room to get out, and glad enough I was that I had not undressed, though of course feeling in a horrid mess, and totally unrested. I got quickly up on deck, and found we were outside the harbour, waiting for a pilot. The captain had gone on shore immediately upon anchoring, having, as it appeared, a wife and family living at Nelson, which also was the reason he had come on by a roundabout way, and arrived in the middle of the night, instead of waiting for the next tide, and bringing us by daylight, and through the French Pass. The pilot came in due time, and took us inside the curious long spit of shingle, forming a natural breakwater, on which stands a lofty lighthouse. We proceeded on up to the wharf, a good long one, but not nearly so convenient for shipping as that at Wellington, and constructed with a total disregard to the passing and re-
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passing of passengers, the whole width and length being taken up entirely with tramways and trucks, among which you have to steer your way, and. scramble and jump out of danger as best you can.
The harbour is most lovely as to scenery of hills, and trees, and pretty-looking houses. I never remember to have seen anything prettier. The weather was fine and bright, and very warm. Frost and snow are almost unknown here, and the climate is delightful. Nelson is situated at the head of Blind Bay, on the south side of Cook's Strait, in the north of the middle island. It lies about two degrees west of Wellington, in nearly the same latitude, and sheltered from the high winds prevalent on other parts of the New Zealand coast. This settlement was founded in 1841.
The captain came on board soon after we reached the wharf, and told us if we meant to go on shore we had better go at once, as the steamer was going outside again for about two hours, in order to make room for another one (which we were blocking up, by being alongside of her) to get out; though we did not quite understand this arrangement, it did not seem necessary that we should do so; all therefore hurried away, passing over the other steamer, and got to shore without loss of time.
Most of the passengers, and all the other ladies but one were to stop at Nelson; that one and myself therefore agreed to walk about and explore together. It is a tolerably large town, consisting of two long principal streets, and innumerable inviting-looking walks in all directions; it is built on a level spot, with several ranges of beautiful hills enclosing it round on all sides, save that facing the bay. These hills do not appear to be very steep, and run down in spurs, richly wooded, and forming excellent harbours between them. The town is about a mile from the port, and omnibuses run continually to and fro, at sixpenny fares; one of these goes on a tramway backwards and forwards every hour, taking less than ten minutes, and charging only three-
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pence. After about a three hours' walk, we hurried back in order not to lose our (one o'clock) dinner, and expecting to find the steamer returned. On arriving, however, at the end of the wharf, we saw her at anchor a considerable distance off, and "coaling" alongside a brig; those standing about, told us she would not come up to the wharf again till the next morning (the captain and officers seldom seem to know their own arrangements); while deliberating on what was to be done, the "purser" arrived, and saying that he was just going off in the ship's boat, offered to take us, and as we had no desire to go to the expense of a lodging, etc., on shore, we readily embarked with him. On reaching the ship we found that there was no ladder or any other means by which ladies could get on board; the coal brig being on that side by which we ought to have mounted. The purser, however (a very gentlemanlike young man), did not forsake us, but politely remained in the boat until the carpenter had found a ladder and let it down to us. The ascent of this perpendicular and unsteady contrivance was difficult and perilous, but with the purser's help at the bottom, and other hands at the top, we managed safely.
The next morning by about six o'clock, the "Airdale" was alongside the wharf again. The captain had said we should be off by two o'clock (we were to have left the day before, but with the usual uncertainty, this arrangement had been changed). My lady companion, therefore, and myself went on shore again, and walked straight up to the cathedral, 6 which stands right in the centre of the town. We found the doors closed, and no means of entering. It is to all appearance a plain, unadorned church of wood in the form of a cross, with a rather stumpy steeple. The small windows are whitened on the lower panes, so that we could only gain a partial view of the interior through some scratches
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thereon, and saw that the inside was of perfectly plain wood, without any kind of ornament or carving that we could perceive. The situation of this cathedral, however, is perfection, being placed on the summit of a small hill of its own, levelled on the top just sufficiently for the building to stand with a good broad walk round it. Up the east front of this eminence are five successive flights of steps, of graduating numbers, the lower flight being the longest and the others diminishing in number as they ascend from fourteen to five, with broad landings or resting-places between each flight; the effect is extremely good and imposing at a distance, but the steps are mere earthwork, banked up neatly with wood. All this was done in the early days of the settlement, when no unnecessary expense could be afforded. There are winding walks round this hill and terraces of plantations, all done with considerable taste. English and native trees and shrubs are intermixed; myrtles of large growth, geraniums, and other delicate plants growing and flourishing in the open air.
On the west side the ascent to the cathedral is more gradual, and a straight wide carriage-road, and gate, form the approach. There are benches placed here and there on the terraces, commanding views in all directions, such as one could never tire of gazing on. In the far distance, peeping above the nearer hills, Mount Cook and some other high mountains may be seen. Of Mount Cook we had a nearer view from Picton, it is said to be above 12,000 feet high, or very nearly as high as Mont Blanc.
There are many handsome buildings, both in and out of the town; among the latter the college is conspicuous on the side of a hill; it is a very large building of wood, but at a distance has the effect of brick and stone, being painted red and white.
The Government buildings in the town, are handsome and extensive. The Institute, and several others are worthy of remark; most of them are of wood.
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The Union Bank is a handsome stone building, precisely similar in design to that at Christchurch, though it appeared to me to be on rather a smaller scale. A narrow rapid, river called the Waimea, crosses one end of the town--it runs down from the hills, and has a very picturesque effect.
We went also to what are called the Gardens, which consist of grass, wild flowers, and trees, the work of nature alone, and no better gardener could be desired, so much has she done for them.
Some nursery gardens were next visited by us, where were growing various kinds of hot-house plants, as we should call them in England, but which here flourish unprotected in the open air, all the year round. Splendid aloes, one in full flower that must have been nearly 20 feet high; also the arbutulum, with its abundance of very large red flowers, and many others that I could not name. There are very fine vineyards here; we went into one kept by an old German woman, and bought as many grapes as we could eat and carry away, for a very small sum. The fruit generally was plentiful, good, and (for the colonies) cheap. We feasted on some delicious pears, and sweet juicy little oranges. I found photographs very scarce and difficult to get here, which I much regretted, as there were so many lovely spots and handsome buildings that I should have liked to remember.
The second day we were at Nelson we fell in with two of our fellow-passengers, a married couple who had come from Southland (a settlement south of Otago), in search of a milder climate; they ran out to greet us from a pretty little house in which they were temporarily established; and looked so comfortable and happy, and so pleased to have done with the steamer, that I almost envied them, and wished I could have acceded to their wish--that I should stay here too for a time; they thought of trying the Waiarau plains.
The Dun Mountain copper-mine is said to be a failure, owing to the great expense of transit. A tram-
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way runs the whole distance from the mine, right through the town (a part of this tramway is now used for the omnibus before-mentioned); but after the immense outlay of capital for this and other works, it was found that the chromate of iron could be bought in England for the price that it cost to ship it from Nelson.
It was with regret that I turned away from this very pretty place, and I could not but look back lovingly upon it from the deck of the "Airdale," which that afternoon bore us again out to sea, after completing the shipment of a large quantity of cargo for Taranaki, and several very fine horses for Manukau and Auckland.
At about ten o'clock the next morning we passed the "Sugar-Loaves," two high rocks which appear so shaped in the distance, though one of them loses that form when neared; there are also several other smaller ones, and most of them shaped like sugar-loaves.
All along this coast lay the field of war; we kept well out to sea (which was very rough), but near enough to see at intervals the encampments of our troops. It was on this coast that the "Lord Worsley" steamer was wrecked. As the history of this wreck has attracted much attention, both in England and New Zealand, and a true account of the affair was communicated to me by a friend, who was one of the sufferers, a slight sketch of the circumstances as they really happened may, perhaps, prove interesting:--
The "Lord Worsley" had been advertised to sail direct for Sydney, from Nelson, on a given day, but, from some unexplained cause (said to be connected with the convenience of some member of the Government), she was diverted from her intended course, and starting a day earlier than had been previously announced, steamed up the west coast towards Manukau. By some extraordinary mischance, she, at midnight of the same day on which she sailed, in perfectly calm and still weather, ran on shore, and became jammed in between rocks off Te Namu, nearly opposite to Mount Egmont.
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The ship was apparently almost uninjured; but as it was found impossible to extricate her, the passengers were all safely landed as soon as daylight appeared, and found shelter in a Maori pah, where the natives most fortunately proved, to be of a friendly tribe (the Ngataruinui), their chief being William Kingi Matakatea, a subject of Queen Victoria's. He informed the shipwrecked party that he was surrounded on all sides by tribes hostile to our Government, "Kingites," and that he could not guarantee their safety beyond the boundaries of his own territories. He, however, sent messengers to the Kapoaiai Gate, requesting the king's permission for the passengers to pass. This being obtained, Matakatea furnished them with drays 7 and native drivers to conduct them on their journey overland, back to Nelson.
In these drays the passengers, about fifty in number (including three children), were packed, with such portable parts of their baggage as they could manage to take with them, after a detention of nearly six days at Te Namu. On arriving at the Kapoaiai Gate, all were compelled to alight, and range themselves in a row to be numbered, each individual having to pay a toll of five shillings to King Mataturea, after which they were allowed to proceed to their destination. Much baggage had necessarily been left behind by those passengers who, having been bound for England, had numerous and bulky packages. Matakatea undertook to protect all the goods as far as he was able to do so, until they should be sent for. Strange to say, however, the owners of this property could obtain no ship, nor any assistance whatever, from the Government authorities, for the recovery of it, and, after some time, everything was seized and sold by auction, by order of the Maori king, who pocketed the proceeds; and thus, plate, jewellery, pictures, family heir-looms, and valuables of all descriptions, were distributed among the undiscern-
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ing natives. The ship, cargo, and arms, were all given up to the Ngataruinuis.
Matakatea, who had done all in his power to protect the property that had been left in his charge, is said afterwards to have expressed himself most bitterly upon the subject of his having been left wholly unaided in the matter by the Government. These are the sort of things that lower us in the eyes of the natives, and fill them with contempt for the Pakeha disheartening and disgusting those who would be friendly, and encouraging the hostile to outrages.
The Government never took any steps either to rescue the goods or to punish the thieves. Compensation was afterwards promised to the losers, and sums were even placed upon the estimates of the Legislature for this purpose; but all ended in nothing, and to this day the victims have had to put up with their losses as best they might.
