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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 14, Issue 11 (February 1, 1940)

Done With a Document — Early Days in Westland

page 34

Done With a Document
Early Days in Westland

Okarito township, South Westland.

Okarito township, South Westland.

Sleepy little Okarito, looking lazily across her lagoon towards the contemptuous Tasman surges, appears to-day as one at slippered ease, reviewing a pleasantly profitable if possibly empurpled past. For her glory, despite the optimism of her leading citizens, lies more in retrospect than prospect. It was here that one of the most profitable transactions ever put through in the Dominion was consummated.

In January, 1860, Colonel Gore Browne, then Governor of the Colony, instructed James Mackay, his Assistant Native Secretary, to personally implement the purchase of the whole of Westland, less ten thousand acres for Native reserves, for a sum not to exceed £400. Mackay is obviously a good Scottish name; he made the purchase for £100 less than this sum. The Maori population of the province at that time was very small. Raids (Te Rauparaha is credited with slaving expeditions down there), inter-tribal brawls, and possibly the proverbially severe climate of the Coast had all played their part in the reduction of numbers; and at the time that Mackay effected his sensational purchase there were not more than 110 persons of the Native race holding tribal rights in what is to-day South Westland. Native messengers carried summonses to the scattered pahs to attend a meeting at the Lagoon Settlement, Okarito, for the korero which would decide the price to be paid and the boundaries of the purchase.

On the heels of the messengers came the nucleus of a procession, Messrs. Mackay, Mackley and Burnett as representatives of the Crown, and the rangatira, Werita Tainui, of the Ngaitahu tribe with his entire household. On their leisurely journey of 135 miles they were joined by the various septs from the different pahs until, at Okarito, the gathering of the clan was complete and they were free to relax and enjoy the ceremonial greetings and salutations so dear to the Maori heart. Even to-day it is possible to reconstruct the scene in all its picturesque beauty.
The harbour at Okarito, showing Mt. Tasman and Mt. Cook (12,349 ft.) in the background.

The harbour at Okarito, showing Mt. Tasman and Mt. Cook (12,349 ft.) in the background.

In the foreground the lagoon, shimmering under the rays of the westering sun; at the back the bush-clad foothills, with the smoke of half a hundred fires rising like incense before the altar of Aorangi. In the distance the crenelated glory of the snow-clad Alps with Cook and Tasman towering over all. Then, as the sun dips below the horizon, snowwhite turns to faintest pink, then to translucent coral, and later under the rising moon it shines in silvered splendour.
Soft laughter of wahines as they opened the Maori ovens and lifted the flax-wrapped food from the hot stones; page 35
A sketch of the obelisk which it is proposed to erect at Okarito to commemorate the sale of the West Coast to the Crown by the Maoris in 1860.

A sketch of the obelisk which it is proposed to erect at Okarito to commemorate the sale of the West Coast to the Crown by the Maoris in 1860.

shrill unrestrained chatter of children, with the deeper tones of the men underlying it—dominating all the deep diapason of the Tasman surf, menacing, sombre; with James Mackay, like a beneficent deity surveying the scene from the vantage point (probably) of his seat upon the swag which contained the precious four hundred golden sovereigns, and finding it very good.

Came the day of the final korero. Rangatira after rangatira rose in his appointed place and voiced in easy Maori eloquence his acceptance of the offer made by Mackay. Werita Tainui spoke last of all and clinched the deal. Westland was bought for three hundred pounds. Much yet remained to be done. There were reservations to be defined at Mahitahi (Bruce Bay) and at what we know to-day as Jackson's Bay, the former forty and the latter ninety odd miles from Okarito. The mere distance was nothing to Mackay and his men—but consider the intervening rivers. After Okarito the Waiho, the Waikukupa, the Fox, the Cook, the Karangaroa, Jacobs and the Mahitahi, besides scores of unnamed creeks each carrying its own peculiar peril. Even to-day with travelled fords, the main rivers are dangerous to a footman, but Mackay and his Maori friends negotiated the return journey safely after having settled the borders of the Native reserves at Mahitahi and Jackson's Bay. Picking up their main body at Okarito they proceeded to Grey, defining reserves en route. Again, mark you, according to Dr. Harrop and other historians, “leisurely.” It is, of course, a purely relative term. But when it embraces a stroll of about three hundred and twenty miles, plus the rivers to be forded it would appear to leave much to the imagination. Then came the signing of the deed of sale at the Mawhera Pah in Grey, with due observance of ritual inherent to the Native race. During Mackay's return to Nelson he nearly lost all the fruits of his journey; the swamping of a canoe in the Grey River set adrift his bag containing the precious document and the residue of the purchase money. It would be interesting, from the psychological point of view, to know which of the two was uppermost in Mackay's mind when, after a desperate struggle, he retrieved the precious bag!

New Zealand has been marvellously served by her civil servants. In Mackay's case all the foregoing was nothing out of the ordinary, merely part of the usual day's work. His recognition, up to the present, has been a “please explain” from the Government of his day relative to the soiled condition of the deed of sale consequent upon its submersion and the rather inadequate honour of having one of Greymouth's main streets named after him. The residents of Okarito (with their neighbours from Wataroa, Waiho and Weheka) have decided to celebrate the Centennial by the erection of an obelisk upon the trig station overlooking the ground whereon the sale was actually effected. Independent of this, however, we may say: “if you would see his monument, look around you”—than which there is no more desirable epitaph for one whose life has been spent in national service.

For the scroll around the epitaph, as it were, it may be pointed out that since the purchase of the province, more than eleven million pounds worth of gold has been taken out; that hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of cattle have been raised and sold; countless million feet of timber exported and turned into New Zealand dwellings each year; that the province supports a population of approximately twenty thousand, some four hundred of whom are descendants of the native signatories to the deed, and that the possibilities of the province, up to date, have merely been scratched. With the completion of the highway (now under construction) into Southland and the easier access to the mineral and other wealth at present lying dormant in the southern end, the nation will reap a richer harvest than ever from the business acumen of Mackay.

View of the Southern Alps from the trig station at Okarito.

View of the Southern Alps from the trig station at Okarito.

To eliminate the suggestion of the use of any but fair methods let us consider that the present native owners have quadrupled their numbers during the period since the sale; that some thousands of pounds are paid to them annually in the form of ground rents; that their rights in citizenship are identical with those of their pakeha neighbours and that, availing themselves of these opportunities, they are now playing a full part in the industrial and social life of the province.

Undoubtedly what Mackay did with his document was good business—using the adjective in the fullest sense of its meaning—and the proposed memorial, though its inception is local, may well stand as a symbol of national appreciation of the man and his job.