Title: The Southern Districts of New Zealand : a Journal, with Passing Notices of the Customs of the Aborigines

Author: Edward Shortland

Publication details: Longman, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1851, London

Part of:

• The New Zealand Provincial Histories Collection
• New Zealand Texts Collection

License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 New Zealand Licence

Chapter X.

On returning to Waikouaiti, I commenced my preparations for a journey, by land, to Banks's Peninsula. The greatest difficulty I had to encounter was to find natives willing to accompany me; the young men of the present age having given up the habit of travelling on foot for the more easy and rapid voyage by sea. It was, moreover, the intention of a large party of the natives of the place, with their old chief Koroko, to go in their boats as far as Wai-a-te-rua-ti, in about a month's time, for the purpose of visiting their relatives there, and carrying page 180 them a present of potted “titi” or mutton birds. They could not understand why I resolved to go by land, rather than await the sailing of their fleet. Hence I could only obtain one volunteer for my service. He was a strong young fellow, however, and son of the chief of Wai-a-te-rua-ti. After a few days of hesitation, during which he was, no doubt, weighing in his mind the labour of marching so many miles with a pack on his back, against the value of a stout blanket, which he returned several times to examine, he agreed to go with me as far as his home, about eighty miles from Hakaroa; promising that I should have no difficulty in finding a substitute for him at that place.

I therefore packed up all my heavy baggage, and left it in Smith's charge, to be sent after me by Koroko, if no opportunity occurred of sending it direct to Wellington. I then divided the things I thought necessary for our confort into four packages; and as I had only three natives, one of whom was a boy of no more than thirteen years of age, I was obliged myself to carry one of the packages, in addition to my gun.

Some who read this may, themselves, have occasion to travel in New Zealand, and will therefore, be glad to learn, from another's experience, what sort of outfit is required in order to get through a journey in such a country most conveniently, having regard both to comfort and to expedition.

The only roads, except in the neighbourhood of the English settlements, being foot tracks passing through forests, or over wide open spaces clothed for the most part with fern, and frequently crossing swamps or rivers, every article of baggage must be transported on the backs of natives hired for the purpose. It is, therefore, advisable to encumber one's self with no more than is absolutely necessary; and it is really incredible how, after a little practice, many things before thought indispensable may be abandoned without regret one after another.

The following is a description of the things which will, it is thought, be found to include the most serviceable part of the baggage of a traveller in New Zealand.

A tent, made of good duck, measuring, when standing, six feet high, six feet long between page 182 the poles, and five feet broad: it should be curved at either end, so as to make it as roomy as possible, without much increasing its weight, and to give it greater stability in stormy weather.

A box fitted with a shallow tray for writing materials, and several compartments containing tin cases for tea, sugar, biscuits, wax candles, knives, forks, tin plates, and other useful et cœtera. This box should be made of light well-seasoned wood, and should measure about twenty-one inches long, twelve inches deep, and ten inches broad, which is a convenient size for a backload, and for enabling its bearer to thread the intricacies of the bush: its top and sides should be enclosed in a waterproof case.

A sufficient number of blankets for bedding, and to defray extraordinary expenses by the way, should be rolled up tightly in a painted duck wrapper, measuring six feet long and four feet wide. This cloth, being impervious to water, will keep the blankets dry in the worst weather, and, at night, may be spread above the damp fern or grass, which supplies the place of a mattress.

Clothes should be packed in a waterproof bag; and among them should be always a spare pair page 183 of strong shoes, and two or three pairs of duck trowsers—a material better able to resist constant rubbing against dry fern than any other. A pair of flushing trowsers will also be found a luxury after a day's march in wet weather.

An iron saucepan, a small iron teakettle, and a tomahawk for chopping wood are things never to be forgotten: and it will also be convenient to be provided with an oiled linen bag large enough to hold five or six pounds of flour; and several lesser bags of the same description, each to hold two or three pounds of tobacco.

Tobacco supplies the place of small money in all parts of this country remote from the towns. The object of dividing it into several separate parcels is to prevent the exact state of your finances in reference to this substitute for coin becoming known to your attendants, from whom the information would infallibly be reported to their fellow-countrymen wherever you go, and so lead to incessant and very annoying appeals to your generosity; for a New Zealander always expects a person to pay according to his means, and not according to the value of what he receives.

As to native attendants, from four to six are quite enough for one person; the latter number being only required if the country to be traversed is not populous, when an additional quantity of provisions must be carried. A traveller's importance is usually estimated, in places where he is unknown, by the number of his attendants; hence, if only accompanied by one or two, he is looked on as a low sort of fellow, and treated accordingly. Four, however, are quite enough to establish a character for respectability.

The weight of baggage allotted to each native should not much exceed 20lbs.; he can then carry in addition a proportion of potatos or other food, and will travel with cheerfulness from daylight to sunset, for several days consecutively.

Those who know but little of the language of the country when about to make a tour in New Zealand—I refer more particularly to the North Island—should be careful to have among their native attendants, one young man at least, the son or relative of a person of consideration. They will thus have the best possible passport, a portion of the respect due to him being shared by his European friends and companions.

By neglecting this simple precaution, and by engaging the services of any of the young men always to be found hanging about the towns, without inquiry as to their rank or character, unwary travellers have sometimes encountered a diversity of mishaps; have even been robbed, and have finally returned home with a very unfair estimate of the character of the people whom they had visited. Just as might happen to any foreigner who should attempt to make a tour through England or France under the guidance of persons similarly chosen.

On the morning of the 4th of January, 1844, I left Waikouaiti. The tide was ebbing, and had left the beach red with “kouraraki,” a small crustaceous animal not unlike the shrimp, but more diminutive. They were still alive, and so numerous that they formed a stratum three or four inches thick, to walk over which was as if one trod on new-fallen snow. The “kouraraki” are fed on by the whale; and their appearance early, and in abundance, was hailed as the prognostic of a good season.

Vast shoals of them, more than a mile in extent, are sometimes met with off the coast, page 186 and give to the water a dark muddy colour, like foul ground. I once sailed over a patch of this discoloured water off Cape Turnagain, when the Captain hove the ship to, and sounded without finding ground with all the line he had. Two of the crew, who had been whalers, accounted for the strange appearance by saying that we were sailing over one of these shoals. The “kouraraki” were, however, too far below the surface to be distinguished, nor could we fish up any of them by sinking a bucket to a considerable depth.

Just as I was on the point of crossing the river, Mr. J— informed me that two men had left the place with the intention of travelling to Hakaroa by land. One of them he had but a short time before brought from Wellington, as a farm servant, and he wished me to aid him in forcing this man to return; having already sent two men on horseback after him and his companion, with a commission to obtain the assistance of the natives by offers of tobacco. I replied, much to his surprise—for he had imbibed the arbitrary nations of a whaling master, and considered that, having given the page 187 man a free passage, and engaged his services, he had a right to retain them by force, if possible—that he must not expect me to support him in his attempt to enlist the natives in such a service; for I thought it my duty to advise them never, under similar circumstances, to interfere with Europeans. As Mr. J— had been very kind and obliging to me on many occasions, I was sorry that any cause of disagreement should have arisen at my departure.

Mr. Earle accompanied us as far as Te Hakapupu, a muddy estuary, which has somehow obtained the inappropriate name of Pleasant River. We forded it high up, where it divides into four channels. Here the mud is not deep, and any one may cross even at high water. From hence our path traversed a very rich well-watered country, with abundance of grass—an admirable position for feeding sheep and cattle, or, indeed, for the more general farmer. We frequently disturbed quail, which rose close under our feet. There is great difficulty in getting a shot at this bird, as it flies close to the ground, dropping almost immediately, like the landrail, and then running through the fern page 188 or grass. I never could make one rise a second time.

We halted for dinner by the edge of a wood, called Otawhata. About five miles farther on we reached Waihemo, a small river running through a swampy valley, impassable at times. Near this are two remarkable conical hills, Puketapu in the higher part of the valley, and Pokohiwitahi near the coast. At the base of the former is found the sand-stone, already spoken of, used by the natives for grinding the “pounamu.” The reef running out into the sea from this part of the coast is called Taki-te-uru; having obtained its name from one of the canoes in which some of the ancestors of the New Zealanders came across the ocean to these shores, which was upset there. A chief, Puketapu, and his slave were the only persons who swam ashore, and gave their names to the two hills just mentioned. The mystery, however, which tradition loves to throw over antiquity, represents the reef and the two hills as veritable transformations.

At the point where the path met the beach we fell in with a small party of natives scraping page 189 flax, intended as part of the price of a boat. Here I determined to halt for the night, having lost my shot-belt during the day. I prevailed on a native of the place to go in search of it; but, as he was sure to be benighted, and there exists very generally a superstitious dislike to travel in the dark,^* I was obliged to overcome this feeling by the gift of a pound of tobacco, there worth three shillings and sixpence. He brought me the belt the same night, having found it hanging by a tree, where we had dined the day before.

We reached Onekakara in the afternoon, and again took possession of Jack Hughes's barn. My patient was still anxious to have his leg taken off; and had obtained the promise of a free passage to Hakaroa in a small vessel about to sail with the first fair wind. This offered but poor accommodation for a sick man, being only an old sealing boat, raised and decked; besides, having nine or ten passengers and crew, it must have been as confined below as a slaver. The captain and owner had already come as far as Otakou in her, from Foveaux's Straits; in case of bad weather, putting into some one of the small harbours, of which there are so many along that part of the coast. But, between page 191 this place and Banks's Peninsula, no shelter is to be found for anything larger than a boat; they were, therefore, obliged to await the setting in of a southerly wind, which often continues to blow for three or four days.

Jan. 6.—I remained this day and the next (Sunday) with the natives; and, by good fortune, secured the services of the son of a sick man, whom I had attended, to carry my load, and act as guide as far as Waitaki.

Jan. 8.—Bade adieu to my friends at One kakara. Hughes's partner and another man accompanied us as far as Orere, where they had a sheep station. The flock, about one hundred and fifty in number, had been sent from Mana, an island in Cook's Straits, and did so well here that it was intended to add another cargo to them during the summer.

Our path was along the beach for about seven miles, as far as a headland—the yellow Bluff of the whalers. This was the season when the fruit of the “tutu” or “tupakihi,” as it is called in the North Island, was ripe. Hughes's partner had with him his native wife, who, while we rested here, busied herself in picking page 192 the berry, and straining it through a bag she carried with her for that purpose. In this way the juice, which is very refreshing on a hot day, may be drunk without danger.

It is a very general belief that the poisonous property of this plant resides in the seed. This I believe not to be the case; as I have been assured repeatedly by the natives that it is the small stem, on which the berry is seated, that is so dangerous. I have frequently seen them swallow the seeds in proof of this; while they search for and pick out the small stems with the greatest care; believing that three of them will sometimes prove a dose sufficient to cause the death of a man. They say that the juice itself is poisonous to persons not used to it, if drunk in too great a quantity, or if it be expressed from unripe fruit; but that when boiled, it is drinkable in all cases with impunity. It is also generally stated that the plants which grow near the sea shore, or in deep rich soils, are more poisonous than others; while the stunted shrubs met with on the dry open plains are comparatively harmless.

From this it would appear that the unripe page 193 fruit and green boughs, as well as the stem, all contain the poison; and this opinion is strengthened by the consideration that imported cattle, which would be more likely to select the green leaves and boughs for food than the fruit, are so liable to suffer from it.

In cases of poisoning occurring among themselves, the natives' remedy is to plunge the patient in the sea or a river, keeping his head below water till he is nearly drowned, and then to roll his body on the shore till sickness is produced sufficient to eject the contents of the stomach. This practice, although rough, is rational, and the best they could have adopted under their circumstances.

On the north side of the Bluff, there is a boat harbour, and a potato garden belonging to the natives, who put in there occasionally when sailing along the coast.

From this place, passing through a wood, we turned inland, leaving the beach about half-a-mile to the right. After travelling between seven and eight miles, partly along the beach, and partly inland, we arrived at the bank of the river Kakaunui. The tide being too high page 194 to allow us to cross at the lower ford, we were obliged to proceed upwards till we arrived opposite a white cliff on the north bank; where we crossed—the water not reaching much above our knees—and rested on the other side for the night. Firewood was very scarce; the wood at Te Awa-mokihi being the only one to be seen, except small patches of trees on the hills two or three miles distant from us.

Jan. 9.—Our path to-day was sometimes along the edge of a low cliff, sometimes along the beach, till we approached Oamaru point, where it turned inland, and crossed a low range of hills, from which we looked over an extensive plain.

Pukurakau (timber belly), as my new attendant was named, proved himself a first rate traveller, stepping out under a heavy burden as fast as I, who only carried a gun, could keep up with him. He said he had walked from Moeraki to Waitaki, which by the path must be more than forty-five miles, in a day, with a load, probably fifty pounds, on his shoulders.

A river flowed into a “hapua” or lake on the north side of the point, separated from the page 195 sea by a ridge of sand and pebbles. Here I shot two ducks, while I waited for my other natives, who had lingered behind unable to resist a “tutu” scrub black with fruit. Their stained hands and faces spoke of the cause of delay.

Towards the afternoon, we ascended a range of hills called Pukeuri, separating this plain from another more extensive. The sky was so remarkably clear that, from the highest point of the pathway, Moeraki was distinctly in view, bearing S. ¾ E. by compass; and to the east of it appeared the misty outline of land still more distinct, bearing S. ¾ E. This could only be the mountainous land about Otakou; and so Pukurakau declared it to be. He pointed out the mouth of Waitaki, distinguishable by a break in the line of coast, about six miles northward. The view in that direction was terminated by hills, from twenty-five to thirty miles distant, their eastern extremity bearing N. ¾ W. The spot where we stood was about two miles from the coast.

We now turned to the left, along the base of Pukeuri, and, after proceeding between three and four miles, reached a small glen in the hills, where there was plenty of wood and a stream of water. Here we found a ruined hut and a cultivation ground, and put up for the night.

Jan. 10.—From Papakaio, our resting place, we crossed the plain towards Waitaki, walking, although there was no path, without trouble; for the soil was stony and barren, and produced nothing which grew higher than the knee. On arriving at the bank of the river, we found it flooded; the effect of a recent N.W. wind, which always causes the rapid melting of the snow on the mountains in the interior.

The N.W. wind all along this coast is strangely hot, dry, and oppressive, which I have never known to be the case in the North Island. It has been suggested that it brings these properties from the Australian continent; but it would seem but natural that, after having blown over so many leagues of ocean, it should have imbibed moisture. The sirocco, a dry hot wind, while blowing over the sands of Africa, is found to be moist by the time it arrives at Malta; and it is probable that, on the west coast of New Zealand, the N.W. wind is similarly moist, as well as warm. Its peculiar dry character on reaching the east coast may, perhaps, be explained by the supposition that, in passing over the snow mountains, its moisture is con- page 198 densed, and falls on them as a warm rain. The rapid melting of the snow, and the immense floods in all the rivers, whose sources are in these mountains, would be thus accounted for.

As the sky foreboded rain, we hastened on to the nearest native station, Te Puna-a-maru, several miles more inland. The river, or rather the valley through which it rushed, appeared to be nearly a mile broad. It was furiously rapid, and of a dirty white, or pipe-clay colour. When not flooded, it runs in many streams, each of which is in itself a small river, over stones and pebbles, and between islands and banks of shingles. In the winter months, it has comparatively little water, the main stream being then not deeper than a man's waist in the shallowest places, but still dangerous to ford, by reason of the violence of the current. It is, indeed, too rapid ever to be navigated by boats; and the country through which it flows offers little to invite settlers, except its sheep pastures.

We arrived in the afternoon at Te Puna-a-maru, where we found a small party of natives, seven in number. The chief person, Huruhuru, was a man of singularly pleasing manners and address—qualities which I was the more surprised to meet with in this wild desert-looking place. As Pukurakau was very anxious to return home, he willingly undertook to ferry us across Waitaki. I afterwards discovered that he and all his party had intended, when the flood subsided, to remove from their present residence to the river Waihao, a short day's journey to the northward, which they visited at this season of the year, for the purpose of catching eels—a fish esteemed one of the chief delicacies of the land, and preserved in great quantities for future use, by partly roasting and drying them in the sun.