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Chapter XIX.
Sorrow and Death.

The truth of the old proverb, "Misfortunes never come singly," was soon to be bitterly realized by Mrs. Hay and family, when the troubles of this time culminated in the death of the beloved husband and father. Immediately after the conclusion of the first fire case (after coming home for two or three days) Mr. Hay returned to Christchurch to settle the law claims. From there he journeyed to Tekapo to see Mr. John Hay about the sale of that station, as Mr. J. Hay wished to come nearer to a centre for the sake of his children's education. It was about this time Mr. J. Hay bought Barbrafield, near Temuka, where the remainder of his life was spent.^*

Mr. Hay, who had been a fortnight away, was passing-through Christchurch on his way home, when he was met with the news that more litigation was on foot. Just before leaving town on 26th November he was served with a writ from Marshall Brothers, damages £1,100, and informed that other parties were waiting to follow suit should this second claim be successful. The few friends he met in town to whom he could speak of the troubles that oppressed him could see how he suffered; and well his own family could understand the feelings that must have over-mastered him as he contemplated the prospect before him.

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He could only see a vista of lire cases looming in the future, one based on the success of its predecessor so that if he were to judge by the Holmes' case (and what else had he to go by!) nothing but absolute ruin was to be expected. How could he meet them, and when would they end! Might not the whole immediate neighbourhood, with equally valid claim, rise up against him?

Alter long years of struggle and difficulty, in which even their lives had been endangered, and many troubles bravely met and overcome, it was hard to find now, when he might reasonably hope tor some respite, wave after wave of desolation sweeping over him, leaving him stranded, to begin again the weary fight when heart and strength were failing. Only too well could the family picture him setting forth on his walk over the Port Hills in the dusk page 217of evening, engrossed in troubled thought, the fateful writ in his pocket. He had meant to spend the night in Lyttelton and get home by whaleboat next day, accompanied by Mr. S. C. Farr, who had met him in Christchurch and arranged to go down with him to lay off a township in Pigeon Bay. They left Christchurch together in the trap that in those days conveyed passengers to the foot of the hills, and together they walked up the mountain-path. When near the top they were met by a man coming down the hill, who stopped Mr. Hay to speak to him. Mr. Farr, after waiting a little while, walked slowly on, and finally reached Lyttelton, where he expected Mr. Hay to join him. Next morning, on going to the wharf, Mr. Farr could hear no tidings of Mr. Hay from anyone, nor was there any boat in waiting. He therefore concluded Mr. Hay had had occasion to go back to Christchurch, and returned there himself, only to learn that Mr. Hay had not been seen nor heard of since the day before, and was believed by all his friends to be on his homeward way. There was anxiety felt as soon as it became known he had not reached Lyttelton, and a search party was at once organised.

Meanwhile the family in Pigeon Kay, knowing his return was not definitely fixed to a day or two, felt no uneasiness until late one evening a rumour reached James and Tom that their father had started on his journey home two days before. Early the next morning they were roused by a tap at their bedroom window, and were startled to find their brother Willie and Mr. T. S. Duncan standing out-side. One look in their faces was enough to confirm James' and Tom's worst fears. Mr. Duncan and Willie had come from Lyttelton by whaleboat to break the distressing news that the day before, viz., 28th November, Mr. Hay's body had been found at the foot of a precipice on the Port Hills, a fall of at least 50 feet sheer over a crag. The path was a narrow zig-zag track, very steep and rock-bound, with sharp turns, across one of the worst page 218of which Mr. Hay had taken one step too far in the darkness.

When he was last seen near the summit it was almost dark, and must have been quite so by the time he gained the top. He was a good walker, with a firm free tread, and so familiar with hill-tracks that he would have no thought of danger as he strode down the steep path.

To his family, who knew his ways so well, the manner of his death was as clear as if they had been with him and seen him fall over the cliff. He was in the habit of walking with head bent and eyes undiscerning when in earnest thought; his sight, too, had greatly failed in his later years, and it was easy to understand how, in the pre-occupation of his mind, the false step was taken that led him so suddenly into the "Silent Land."

We shall not dwell on the heartrending grief of wife and family—that needs no telling.

James returned with Mr. Duncan and Willie that day to Lyttelton, Tom and brothers the next. An inquest was held in Lyttelton, and the evidence pointed to the fact that death must have been instantaneous, his neck having been broken by the fall. It was at least a comfort to know that he did not suffer a lingering agony alone on the dark hillside. The family shall ever hold in grateful remembrance the true practical sympathy of their kind friends, Mr. and Mrs. Stout, of Lyttelton, who did all in their power to help and comfort them during those sad days. Mr. Stout made all necessary arrangements for the removal of Mr. Hay's remains by special conveyance to Christchurch. As it happened, the first day the train ran from Heathcote—or Ferry Bridge as it was then called—was the day before the funeral. This greatly lessened the inconvenience of the journey for distant friends. Mr. Hay's sorrowing sons and friends laid him to rest in Addington Churchyard on the 1st of December, 1863.