Most of the old families in New Zealand have some memento or memory of the sailing-ship days when their forbears came out from the Old Country, and some of them have greatly treasured shipboard diaries, which in the present times of 40-day passages to London make most interesting reading; they show us how astonishing have been the changes in sea travel during the past fifty or sixty years. From one such diary I have been permitted to take some extracts concerning a typically protracted and eventful passage. The diarist was Mr. J. A. Pond, of Auckland, for many years one of the leading analytical chemists of the Dominion. He came out in the ship John Temperley, which left Gravesend on May 8, 1865, and took 114 days to reach Auckland. Among the John Temperley's passengers were Major Whitmore and Captain Machell, A.D.C. to the Governor.

Mr. Pond's diary opens with a fearful storm that struck the ship the day after she sailed from Gravesend. Then on May 29, when the ship was off Gibraltar, there happened one of those thrilling incidents that steam sailors are saved. Doing about ten knots, the ship was suddenly struck by a squall. At the time she was carrying all her canvas, and the squall threw her all aback, while at the same time she was struck by a heavy sea forward, which swept down the hatch and set everything movable on the dance and jingle.

One Sunday in June, just as the passengers had got up from the breakfast table, they heard a terrible commotion on deck, and rushing up they found that one of the sailors had been knocked off the jib-boom by the flying-jib. A boat was quickly lowered, and luckily the man was picked up.

Apparently the "Temperley" was not a clipper ship, for Mr. Pond's diary records that the Line was not crossed until the forty-third day from leaving Gravesend, a distance that generally was done in 25 to 30 days, and had been done in 17 days.

Among the Ice.

After recording more rough weather the diarist of 1865 goes on to record: "On July 27 we were moving along splendidly at from nine to ten knots, and passed close to a large iceberg, which was a grand object. The enormous mass of ice had about six pinnacles, all glittering in the sun. The sea was breakingpage 144 over parts of the berg, and it looked like an island with six mountains on it."

Mr. Pond records that owing to the presence of ice the watch was doubled. Sailing through ice-infested seas is very trying both for passengers and officers, but particularly the latter. In navigating seas where ice is expected it would, of course, be madness to rely on the look-out alone. What is frequently done is to take the temperature of the sea water every half-hour, and if a marked drop in the reading should occur it is generally a very good warning of the proximity of ice.

Marvellous Escape.

More references to bad weather follow, and then the diary goes on to say: "On August 3 we passed the island of St. Paul, 200 miles to the south. In connection with this island one of the sailors told me of an interesting episode. It seems that a ship bound for Melbourne was nearing the island one rough night when a strong wind was blowing from the west. The wife of the captain was ill, and during the night she gave birth to a boy. The captain would not leave his wife, but unfortunately neither of the mates was an experienced seaman, and during the night the ship drove heavily on the rocks, breaking up shortly afterwards. All on board, even the mother and her baby, were saved, with the exception of the captain, who was drowned. When the survivors got on the island they found very little fresh water, and all were very badly off for food and drink, but luckily in a few days they were sighted by a whaler, which, bore down and took them all on board. The whaler was a full ship from the whaling grounds, but the captain did not hesitate to throw some of his precious barrels of oil overboard to make room for his unexpected passengers."

More bad weather followed—the "Temperley" seems to have been dogged by a storm fiend—and during one blow in the early part of August a seaman started a little storm on his own account. He and the second mate had one of those disagreements that were not unknown in the rough and tumble wind-jammer days, and before the trouble was settled the sailor had struck "Mr. Mate," and then found himself in irons.

"Another heavy storm," says the diary for August 13, and this time the much-buffeted "Temperley" sustained serious damage to her top hamper. At 7 a.m. a squall struck her, and serious damage was done to the foretopmast, the foretopgallant mast, and the foreyard, all of which came down on the deck. All hands, including the passengers, had to turn out to clear away the wreckage and assist in getting up the largest spare spar on board to make a new foreyard. It took them three days to clear things up.

Nearly Ashore.

And the end of the passage was apparently very nearly a tragedy. "On August 31," says the diary, "we struck another very severe gale. At the time we were in sight of a lighthouse, and suddenly heard the call ''Bout ship!' All hands assisted, and we were soon going in the opposite direction. Lookouts were now placed all about the ship, and presently we heard above the wind the call, 'Land on the weather bow; let her fall off a couple of points!' Immediately on top of this the boatswain cried out, 'Land close on our lee bow!' All knew there was danger. Quickly we heard the captain's hoarse ''Bout ship!' The ship came to the wind, but there was so little sail on her, owing to our crippled foretopmast, and the wind being so heavy, we did not come round, and rapidly the ship fell to leeward, just grazing the rocks that had first been seen on the lee bow. Passengers and crew all worked hard, and happily we soon had the ship out of all danger. An hour later the gale had spent itself, and pleasantly we made our way among the numerous islands which dot the Gulf, and were soon in sight of Auckland."

the John Temperley sailed from Auckland for London on October 25th. 1865, taking Colonel Wyatt and the second half of the 65th Regiment—about 267 rank and file. The ship also took Home £68,000 worth of gold.

The following year the John Temperley came out to Lyttelton, leaving London on March 13th and arriving at Lyttelton on June 21, a passage of 100 days. The ship had another rough experience when in the Southern Ocean. She encountered a terrific gale, which carried away many sails. Heavy seas swept the decks, carrying away a large portion of her bulwarks, smashing up two boats and doing other damage.