As Cook set down very few harbours on his South Island map, it is quite understandable that sealers and whalers should endeavour to use Molyneux as a base. Later, of course, they forsook this open bay for places like Akaroa, Otago Harbour, Waikawa, and the good harbours of Stewart Island.

Massacre of Four Men.

The sealing and whaling records frequently mention Molyneux. In McNab's “Murihiku” and “The Old Whaling Days” many details are available.

Captain Edwardson, who was in command of the sloop “Snapper,” 29 tons, was around Foveaux Straits and Ruapuke in 1822–1823, and he noted:—

“The deaths of several white people may be attributed to the lack of a prudent conduct. Among the numerous victims of the ferocity of the islanders may be mentioned Captain Tucker and the crew of his cutter: five men from the cutter of the ‘Sydney Cove,’ a whaling vessel, killed by Hunneghi, chief of OOuai on the coast of Foveaux Strait; four men from the schooner ‘The Brothers’ massacred at Molineux Harbour…” (Hunneghi is Hone Kai and OOuai is Oue, at the mouth of the Oreti River.)

Shore Whaling at Molyneux.

McNab records (“Old Whaling Days”) that the “Dublin Packet” arrived at Sydney from Otago on 18th November, 1838. Her report was that the Waikouaiti Station had procured 25 tuns of oil, the Molyneux 45, Waikawa 25, and Stirling at the Block 80.

It is also recorded that the American whaler “Fortune” was to leave Molyneux Harbour on the 14th November with 1500 barrels of black oil and 10 tons of whalebone.” This American whaler did not reach her destination until thirteen months after, but McNab notes that the Sydney Monitor reported that she was merely refitting at the Molyneux, and that the statement of her being bound home was premature.

Shortland Compiles Whaling Statistics.

In 1844 Edward Shortland travelled by land and sea right down our East Coast. He sailed from Waikouaiti to Molyneux Bay, but did not land, the schooner going on to Waikawa. Here the weather was bad, and they came back to Tautuku, where the whaling station was “on the point of being abandoned, as, during the past year, the oil procured had not been sufficient to pay its expenses.”

On the trip Shortland collected “Statistics of Whaling Stations South of Banks's Peninsula.”

William Palmer is given as the owner of Tautuku and Matau or Molyneux; Taiari is given as Weller.

This table would seem to indicate that 1838 saw the end of the shore whaling at Molyneux. To–day there is evidence of the big bones of whales at Willsher Bay, but these are the remains of whales cast up in rcent times.

The Good Old Days.

The old whaling station was situated at the southern end of Willsher Bay, the try–pots being on the beach just about where the big bluegums now stand. If we could re–create the scene in the days before 1840, instead of the clear air and the tang of the sea, we would smell rotting whale and the greasy stink of whale oil. The now beautiful sandy beach would be heavily impregnated with grease, and dogs and pigs disputing with the squawking gulls would be nosing around among the big bones and the filth.

Marsden wrote in 1830: “The immoral conduct of some of the whalers is dreadful.”

The whaling days were not the good old days!

The Traffic in Maori Heads.

The murdering of white men around Molyneux and Foveaux Straits was a matter of “tit for tat.”

Let us see how some of the civilised people behaved.

It soon becomes obvious that the understanding which now exists between Maori and pakeha was—apart from the missionaries, some settlers, and a few traders—not greatly manifest, even as late at 1839.

Many of the visiting whalers had little respect for either the customs or the material possessions of the Maoris. Even the lives of the Natives were not considered of value—but their heads, even their skins, were!

Trade was the god of these early sailormen, who had to make the voyages pay somehow. And even if whale oil and sealskins were in ample supply, sidelines, such as dried heads, always meant lashings of rum in Sydney.

“If You Would Like His Skin.”

An English quarterly journal recently printed a letter which gives a startling insight into the methods of some visitors.

The following is an extract from The Countryman, April, 1939:—

“An Amazing Letter.

“I send you a copy of a letter I have found among some old papers belonging to my grandfather, who was a friend of the Mr. Aglionby to whom the letter was addressed less than a hundred years ago. Mr. Aglionby was M.P. for Cockermouth, and was a zealous advocate of the reform of the Corn Laws. As far as family tradition goes, he was a humane and kindly person; but it would seem that the unfortunate aborigines of New Zealand in the early days of the Chartered Company were looked upon as an interesting kind of game.

“H. Saxe Wyndham.”

“Sydney, New South Wales,

“20th May, 1839.

“My dear Aglionby,—I have great pleasure in informing you that after considerable trouble and difficulty I have at last succeeded in procuring you a capital specimen of a New Zealander's head, and as soon at it is “well cured and properly dried I shall send it to you by the first ship that leaves this colony, and I think that you will agree with me in considering it as a beautiful and curious ornament for the handsomest room in your house.

“I fell in with the possessor of the head by the merest chance while proceeding from Sydney to South Cove, going through the plains with a party of Natives, and after a long chase we succeeded in bringing him down by a rifle shot, which fortunately did not injure any of the ornamental tatoos on his face, which I doubt not you will admire as much as I do.

“If you would like his skin, I have it drying, and will send it to you the first opportunity. Some of the tatoos on it are exceedingly beautiful, particularly on certain parts, but one figure has suffered a little by the ball having passed through it.

“Let me know as soon you can the receipt of the head, and tell me at the same time if you would like the head of a female, as I shall have great pleasure in supplying you.

“Believe me, My dear Aglionby,

“Ever your sincerely,

“I. W. Willis.”

This trade in Maori heads became such a source of trouble and bloodshed that the Governor of New South Wales (Sir George Gipps) prohibited the importation of Maori heads into the colony.