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The Southern Districts of New Zealand

Chapter IX

page 165

Chapter IX.

SAIL TO OTAKOU—JOURNEY TO THE RIVER TAIARI—EXPEDIENTS IN THE BUSH—THE KOTUKU—NATIVE VILLAGE—DISINCLINATION OF NATIVES TO TRAVEL BY LAND—PROGRESS UP THE RIVER, AND RETURN OVERLAND—DESCRIPTION OF COUNTRY BETWEEN TAIARI AND OTAKOU—THE SCOTCH SETTLEMENT DUNEDIN—ITS PROSPECTS OF SUCCESS—NATIVE PIG-PRESERVES—CONCLUDING REMARKS ON THE WHALE FISHERIES.

As my instructions left me at liberty to visit all places in this part of the island where there were natives residing, I wished, before finally quitting Waikouaiti, to go as far south as Taiari and Molyneux Bay; at both of which I heard that small parties of natives were to be found; and this island's being then very generally considered a sort of terra incognita made me the more anxious to see as much of it as possible.

Accordingly, a few days after my return from Foveaux's Straits, I again hired Smith's boat, and taking with me two natives, with Mr. Earle page 166 and his servant, as passengers, crossed over to Otakou.

We arrived at the heads of the harbour just as the flood tide began to make, and, with this and a light breeze in our favour, we reached its southern extremity in the afternoon. It here expands into a broad but shoal bay, separated from the sea by a low narrow neck of sand and earth, which alone prevents the land on the eastern side of the harbour from being an island. By hauling a boat across this neck—a matter of but little difficulty—the voyage to Taiari could be made, in favourable weather, with much greater ease than by the longer and rougher passage round Cape Saunders.

The next morning we left our tent standing, and our boat hauled up above high-water mark, with many things too heavy to carry with us, merely taking the precaution to leave a written notice in “maori,” saying to whom they belonged; we thus felt confident that, although they must remain for several days with no other protector than this paper sentinel, none of the natives—the only persons likely to come this way—would meddle with our property. Having crossed page 167 the narrow peninsula, we advanced a short distance along a beach of fine white sand, of such dazzling brightness that it was extremely painful to keep the eyes open.

Our progress was then impeded by a headland, and a small wood through which no path could be discovered. Here we lost our way, and so much time before we again reached the beach, that we were obliged to halt for the night by a stream of water, about three miles from Taiari. The rain then began to fall, and we built a temporary shed of flax stalks and grass to shelter us; but, as our clothes were saturated with wet and fine sand, and we were unable to find any fire-wood, but some low blackened “manuka” scrub which had been burnt the year before, we passed a very comfortless night.

Recommencing our journey at daylight, we arrived at the entrance of the river near the time of low water. It had then a most wild and inhospitable appearance, being blocked up by shoals and breakers. Very fortunately, about a mile distant off its mouth, there is an island, on the lee side of which a boat can find shelter page 168 in all weathers, and there await a favourable occasion for crossing the bar—a passage which it is seldom safe to attempt, except with the latter half of the flood tide.

Proceeding along the north bank of the river we found some deserted huts; but, contrary to our expectation, no natives. Without their assistance, or a boat, we saw no possibility of going any further; as steep precipices arose from the water's edge, and barred a passage along the side of the river. Earle's man, whom we had already found an excellent travelling companion, and alive to all the expedients of a New Zealander in the bush, had been one of a whaling party formerly stationed at the island just mentioned, and knew the place where the natives usually resided, about five or six miles up the river. This he proposed to reach on a raft aided by the flood tide. Our natives soon constructed one sufficiently large and buoyant to serve his purpose, from the dry stalks of the flax plant (phormium tenax), a material as light as cork, and which we found here in great abundance. An old paddle was also picked up among the bushes, with the aid of which an page 169 experimental trip was made across the river; and the raft being then pronounced seaworthy, our messenger shoved off amid loud and hearty exclamations invoking a prosperous voyage.

At dawn of day he again made his appearance with two boats, manned by natives, who were the more delighted to see us, as, since the abandonment of the whaling station at the island, they had received no visits from Europeans. Their tobacco was consequently nearly consumed, and, its use having been for some while reduced to sparing quantities, our arrival, like sunshine in winter, brightened every face.

As we pulled up the river, we saw several “kotuku,” a species of heron with white plumage, hovering over the cliffs, where they probably had nests; but we could never get near enough to shoot one of them.

The feathers of this bird are much valued by the natives as ornaments for the head, particularly in the North Island, where they are so rare that an old proverb says—

“Kotahi te rerenga o te kotuku rerenga-tahi.”
“Once is the flight of the rare kotuku.”

This is often applied in flattery to any great page 170 man who makes but a short visit, and then goes away.

The river, for two or three miles of this part of its course, ran in a deep channel between lofty and precipitous hills, generally well wooded on either side: after which the banks became gradually less abrupt, till, having reached the distance of from four to five miles from its mouth, we entered the limits of an extensive plain. Another mile brought us to the native village, a few huts by the water side. The place had been selected for the convenience of eel-fishing, owing to its vicinity to some lakes, where they were caught of a large size, and very delicate flavour.

These fish, “korau” or wild turnip tops, and fern root, were just now the natives’ only food; all their old potatos having been consumed or planted, and the young crop not being yet ripe. But whoever has experienced the craving for any sort of vegetable, which seems to invade the whole frame after an abstinence from that sort of food even for twenty-four hours, although the supply of animal food has been never so liberal, will understand the relish with which page 171 we sat down to such a meal; having for the two previous days had only salt meat and biscuit: for at Taiari we were unable to add to our diet even the “korau,” which is generally to be found along the banks of the rivers in this country.

As it was Saturday, and I never travelled on a Sunday, we remained here two days. This small party of natives consisted of four men, six women, and nine children. I proposed to their chief Te Raki, that he should go with me as a guide overland to Matau or Molyneux, where there were a few European settlers, besides a small party of natives; but I found him unwilling. He described the path as very bad and quite overgrown, passing through woods and over mountains. It had formerly been a beaten track; and from Molyneux there had also been a path, by which the different settlements along the coast to the south were reached.

The natives have, however, ceased to travel by land, if they can avoid it, since they have so generally obtained possession of whaling and sealing boats; for these are easily managed, page 172 and by few hands. The large double canoes they formerly had were too valuable a property to be possessed by any but the wealthy, and required a more numerous crew for their management than a boat does; so that a great part of the population were then, as they are at the present day in the North Island, obliged to travel by land.

On Monday morning, Te Raki took us up the river in his boat, promising to show us a nearer way to Otakou, than by returning to the sea coast. After pulling several miles up the main stream, which flowed from the hills to the northward and westward, we took advantage of a small branch, called Owhiro, and followed it as far as the depth of water would permit. We then landed, and, obeying the directions pointed out to us, traversed the plain for nearly six miles, in an E.N.E. direction, having on our right hand a range of hills separating us from the sea coast. We found no impediment to walking; the ground we trod on bearing little but dry wiry grass which grew in tufts, and low fern—a wide and eligible space for feeding sheep, but unfit for cultivation, as evidenced page 173 by the poorness of the vegetation, and the absence of wood.

Having reached its northern boundary, we ascended along the spur of a hill which jutted out into the plain. It had been burnt quite bare by a recent fire, and was of so easy an inclination that a cart might have been driven along it. This led us to a point on the range a little to the east of a peak rising above the rest, and occupying the position of the pommel of Saddle Hill on Captain Cook's chart. It is called by the natives Makamaka, and was the mark which had served us for a guide-post.

From our lofty position, we could see the wood where we had lost our way, not far off, and just below us was a valley with a small river running through it, distinguishable by its green banks of “raupo” (typha latifolia). The descent we found more steep and rugged; the northern slope of the hills having no friendly spur near us, such as that along which we had ascended, did not offer the same facility for making a road. Having crossed the valley, we struck into a path which brought us to the south end of Otakou, across an undulating page 174 country, where the soil was generally very good, producing tall fern, and vigorous “tupakihi,” besides wood at intervals.

This is now the site of a township, called Dunedin, founded by a Scotch company. We have every reason to augur well for the peacefulness and prosperity of those who may select it for their home; as it possesses many essential elements of a happy and successful colony. It has a healthful climate, and scenery not easily to be surpassed for beauty—good land for tillage, and plains for sheep pastures—plenty of large and valuable timber—and an excellent harbour for vessels of a moderate size—of the greater importance from its position, being the only one between Bank's Peninsula and Foveaux's Straits, a distance of nearly 300 miles. It is also believed that more than ordinary care and precautions were taken in making the first purchase of the district, in order to secure to the colonists, as far as possible, undisputed titles to their lands, and friendly relations with the former native proprietors of the soil; who, however, it may be added, are not very numerous.

We here met some natives, who had just come page 175 up the harbour to look after their pigs, of which great numbers were running at large in the bush. They told us that they had seen our boat and tent; but had not crossed over to that side of the bay. And, when we reached our encampment, we found everything as we had left it.

It may here be noticed that it is the custom of this people to select, for pig-runs, places distant from their ordinary cultivations, whither they transport a great part of their stock, when the crop is in the ground; leaving it to range at will till the season of storing the potatos is past. They then catch as many as they require, and take them back to the plantations, in order that they may root up whatever food has been left in the ground.

They now and then visit these pig-runs—as on the present occasion—to watch over the safety of their property, or to catch and mark the young ones; feasting at such times on the flesh of boars, which are killed by preference to prevent their becoming too numerous.

It has sometimes happened that a party of Europeans, falling in with one of these preserves page 176 far away from any habitations, have taken it for granted that the pigs were wild, and, with this idea, have hunted and killed them, as if they had as much right to do so as any one else. Such heedless acts, however, have been a fruitful cause of complaint.

The next day, on our passage down the harbour, I called at my old quarters near the deserted whaling station, wishing to obtain some additional information relative to the fishery at this place. Mr. H—, who had known it in its days of prosperity, and continued to reside here, very obligingly satisfied my inquiries, and produced books and journals—once kept at the establishment, but now in his charge—from which he allowed me to make extracts.

At several of the stations, I had been able to obtain information from sources equally trustworthy; and, in their absence, finding that the whalers themselves had very accurate memories on all points connected with the doings at the fishery to which they belonged, I thought I might safely rely on their statements.

The materials collected in this manner were afterwards arranged in a tabular form; so that page 177 the past and present prosperity of each of the southern stations—from its first establishment to the year 1843—could be contrasted at a glance. The reader is referred to the Appendix, where this table is inserted. He will there find the most positive evidence of the remarkable falling off in the productiveness of the fisheries, year after year, notwithstanding the employment, in some cases, of an increased number of boats and men. On this account many of them have been abandoned; and for the last few years two alone—within the coast limits spoken of—have continued to make an annual return of average amount, sufficient to remunerate the persons engaged in the speculation. So entirely have many places, once the favourite haunts of whales, been deserted by them, that it appears certain that, unless some law be enacted to protect and encourage their breed—in the same manner as is found necessary for the preservation of the salmon in the rivers of Scotland—they will speedily be extirpated, or driven to other regions.

To prohibit foreign vessels from fishing in the vicinity of the coasts, and to limit the fishing season to certain months of the year, are the page 178 most obvious remedies which might be applied to the evil now existing. The former regulation would be but just to ourselves—and the latter to the whales—for they are now attacked by the shore parties, the moment they reach the coast; when they have generally by their side a calf too young to support itself without being suckled by the mother, and which perishes as a natural consequence of her loss. Whereas, if it were unlawful to spear the whale till a later period, many of the calves would be spared to return the following year.

It is believed that, under such moderate restrictions, the fisheries would improve, and that the colony might depend on its whale oil as a profitable and permanent export, at least, for many years.