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Tales of Banks Peninsula

No. 23.—Mr. Phillip Ryan

page 196

No. 23.—Mr. Phillip Ryan.

In the long gully that runs up to the reserve from the back of the former site of Joblin's mill, now a part of Mr. Montgomery's estate, in the Western Valley, Little River, there was a comfortable whare of the old type in a very snug corner by the creek side, which the winds passed by and the morning sun shined on. Here with his son dwelt Mr. Phillip Ryan, one of those Peninsula pioneers whose life had been one long struggle in the van of colonisation. He was a man of fine presence, and must have possessed great strength in his time. Even after a long and toilsome life that had nearly reached ninety years, he was full of intelligence, and by no means wanting in bodily as well as mental vigour. He lived up the hill with his son, who is a half caste, Mr Ryan having married a Maori woman many years ago, who was his good and faithful wife till death came. He was born in Ireland in 1802, and his father was in the Commissariat Department of the British Army during the Peninsula War. To Lisbon he went with his mother very early io the nineteenth century, and his early years were spent in following the movements of the gallant men whom Wellington eventually led to victory. It was only a month before Waterloo that he returned with his family to England.

[unclear: His] early life had given him a taste for wandering and adventure, and when peace came, he sought the sea, and made five voyages out of London. He was at the North Sea fishery, and there served in a vessel of which our well-known Hempleman was mate. He was for a time in the navy, and then he turned his attention to the South Seas. Here he was cast away on his first voyage on one of the Society Islands. After this he made his way to Sydney, and from thence came to Otago in the schooner Return in 1838. Here he stopped for a time, but afterwards went in the same vessel to Timaru, where he was engaged during the whaling season of 1839. From thence he and two other men went to Oashore. They were fitted out with all requisites for whaling by Mr. Waller, of Sydney, and got page 197 plenty of hands to help them from the runaway sailors who left ships in Otago and Akaroa, for at that time there were a great many ships coming in. Mr Price was at Ikoraki at that time, and there were whaling stations at Piraki and Akaroa also.

On August 9th, 1840, which was a glorious day, Mr. Ryan saw a man of war s boat pulling into the bay at Oashore, and a lieutenant soon landed, and, coming up to the house, asked him if be could give any information regarding the Comte de Paris. The Lieutenant told him he belonged to a British vessel of war named the Britomart Ryan told the Lieutenat that a man named "Holy Joe" (the same mentioned by James Robinson Clough) had come over the hill that morning and could give all the news "Holy Joe" told the Lieutenant that the Comte de Paris had been in Pigeon Bay, and that some of her people had landed, and had cut their names in the trees in that locality —now known as Holmes' Bay,—but that no French flag had been hoisted, and there seemed to be no intention to land anything from the ship. This was all the news Joe could give; and as it was late the lieutenant and his crew stopped at Ryan's house that night, and left at 4 a.m. so as to be back in Akaroa at the ship by 8 a.m. There were boats ready to intercept the Comte de Paris if she had attempted to enter Akaroa Harbour, and a party went over the hills to Pigeon Bay, led by some Maori guides, to see no landing was effected there, and no French flag hoisted. At noon on the 10th the flag was formally hoisted by Captain Stanley, who was in command of the Britomart, and a formal proclamation made by Mr. Robinson, the Government agent on board, taking possession of the South Island in the name of Her Majesty the Queen. It was Mr. Robinson who conducted all the subsequent transactions with the French, and Mr. Ryan spoke of him as a most able and kindly man. The guns fired to salute the newly hoisted standard were distinctly heard at Piraki, Oashore and Ikoraki, the wind being light, and the day exceedingly fine. After that season Ryan went to Port Levy, Mr. Waller having failed.

page 198

Thence he started a fishery at Motonau on his own account; but that was a failure, and so he came back to Port Levy, where he lived many years, being engaged sawing most of the time with Tom White. He went two trips to America during this period, and one to Napier as mate of a brig, and in this latter excursion had the misfortune to break his leg. He used to carry the mail to Akaroa through the bush, and said he thought the trees on the way would not be cleared for a hundred years; but they are all gone now. The mail then used to go once every two or three months, when a ship came in. The steamers then began coming about, and the whalers deserted the coast. Besides, whale oil fell in price, and so from all these causes the whale fishery was, in a great measure, discontinued. Ryan remembered Mr. Fleming's first arrival in Port Levy. He came out in the Sir George Seymour, one of the first four ships, and he and Mr Arthur Waghorn of Little Akaloa, walked over the hills. Ryan said they had good clothes on when they started, but in their passage through the bush these had been torn all to pieces, and they were in tatters on arrival. Tom White came to Ryan, and asked him to entertain them, as his whare was so very untidy, because he had so many youngsters about; and so Ryan did. Ryan was the first man who sawed timber in Little River. He worked with an Australian native, named Green. Ryan was a cooper by trade, and it was that which made him so important at the whale fisheries. Mr. Ryan was very anxious to correct an error in the first edition of the "Banks Peninsula Stories", which stated that James Robinson Clough was American. He said he knew him well and all about his family, and he was a native of Lincoln, England. Mr. Ryan declared that the Maoris of the Peninsula were an amicable and honest lot of people, who never harmed anyone materially. He declared that the greatest violence ever offered was to take the tobacco, and perhaps part of the clothing of a run-away sailor, but says that, even then, they never allowed their victim to go hungry.

The old gentleman was cooking whilst the writer was page 199there, and a very good cook he was; but he was exceedingly reticent, as most-are who have lived much in the bush. His greatest trouble was the gradual failing of his sight, which prevented him from reading. His son was one of the finest men it has been the writer's lot to see, and would have made a model for the Farnese Hercules. He and his father were much attached, and led a very pleasant and homely life in this lonely whare, hidden in the spurs of the great ranges.