CHAPTER I
Our first stop in New Zealand was at Bluff, a small port nearly a thousand miles eastward across the Tasman Sea from Hobart. Though composed of only a few hundred people, this place, nevertheless, commands the attention of a traveler, as it is one of the most southerly outposts of civilization, there being no white habitation between Bluff and the South Pole. Tons of cheese and butter were here loaded into the ship, brought by rail from Invercargill, eighteen miles inland, the commercial center of a thrifty farming district.
Abel J. Tasman, in 1642, was the first white man to discover New Zealand. He was frightened away by a warlike and fearless race of natives, but mapped out the coast line roughly, and named the country Staaten Island, which Dutch officials altered later to New Zealand. Captain James Cook, in 1769, was the first to land on New Zealand soil, which he did after much dickering with the Maoris; it then became a British possession.
While traveling through Devereux Straits from Bluff to Dunedin, one of the three islands comprising New Zealand—Stewart Island—was to the south. It has an area of 665 square miles, a mild and pleasant climate, and was a favorite assembling place for American whaling ships twenty-five to thirty years ago. A Maori settlement, most of the natives being fishermen and oysterers, form the chief inhabitants. Oban, twenty miles from Bluff, is the principal town. The straits between South and Stewart Islands was red with prawns, and thousands of fowl were feeding off these crustaceans; the birds make their home on the latter island. Later we reached the Heads of Otaga harbor, passed Port Chalmers, and seven miles further the vessel docked at Dunedin, a stronghold of the Scotch.
In 1848, after a voyage of several months in sailing vessels, two ship loads of Scotch Presbyterians from Scotland sailed up Otaga harbor and disembarked at what is now known as Dunedin, where they formed a settlement. Scotch energy was at once put into action—some of the colonists building homes, others turning over the soil of this virgin country, then seeding the land, later harvesting their meager crops—all initial undertakings requiring more patience and persistence than afterward, when better supplied with tools and implements, and more familiar with natural requirements. From this small beginning— followed by periods of anxiety, disappointment and hardship, as settlers, with more courage than money, in most all new countries have endured in battling with the uncertain phases which confronted them—the pluck of these hardy pioneers is represented in Dunedin being the metropolis of southern New Zealand.
Losing time hunting for level land or gently sloping hills on which to establish a city was not the Scotch way of doing things. The hills are so high, steep and rugged where the citizens of this center live that electric power would fail to draw street cars up some of the inclines; hence steps are cut into the rocks, and walks, made of boards, lead up to many of the homes. Like the rocky hills within the municipality, Dunedin is solidly built. Dark graystone figures largely in building, and streets are good and well looked after. An electric street car system is another asset, and the railway station is one of the best government buildings in New Zealand. Numerous church steeples rising about the metropolis attest the well-known religious tendency of this race; an art gallery, museum, libraries, schools, colleges and other factors indicating intellectual advancement, are found here—14,000 miles from Scotland and the gateway to the Antarctic region—a credit to Scotland grit. Among the manufactures are woolen goods and farm machinery. Frozen meat exports from the Island Dominion, as this country is often termed, are large. This great industry had its inception here, the first cargo being shipped in a sailing vessel from this port in 1881. Burns' clubs, bagpipe bands—which thrill a Scot wherever found—and Caledonian societies have flourished here since its settlement. The bands keep things lively, appearing frequently in complete regalia, the pipers holding their own with any in Scotland.
Sixty thousand people live in Dunedin, these being mainly Scotch. Some of the early colonists came from Dundee and others from Edinburgh, Scotland. While settlers from the former were bent on naming their new home Dundee, those from the latter wanted the place called Edinburgh. A compromise was finally reached by their taking the first syllable of Dundee (Dun) and the first and second syllables of Edinburgh (Edin), calling the place Dun-edin.
Ho! An American flag was flying from the mast of an old three-masted schooner in Otaga harbor. Though I had traveled nearly 22,000 miles since leaving New York and had been at the main ports of three continents, this was the only occasion the Stars and Stripes was observed flying from a vessel.
Little difference was observed here in the clothes worn or the general customs in vogue in America; but British names for certain business callings are the rule, such as ironmonger, fishmonger, mercer, draper, etc.
Everybody cuts their own bread in Dunedin. Sometimes resting on a wooden dish, and in other instances on an ordinary piece of board, the loaf is placed on the table, with a big knife alongside. Meat is served carved, however.
Splendid horses are noticeable—the big, heavy-bodied, hairy-legged Clydesdale breed.
Street cars do not run earlier than 1 o'clock on Sunday afternoons, when church services are over.
Liquor licenses are issued only to hotel-keepers; none to places where travelers are not accommodated. Hotel expenses were only $1.50 a day.
South Pole expeditions sailing from Europe generally call and remain some time at Port Chalmers to refurnish their stores before piercing the icy reaches of the Antarctic division of the world, and this is the first port explorers reach upon emerging from that but partially known region. Dual names to many seaports throughout the British Empire prove confusing to the ordinary person. A news cablegram may tell of a South Pole exploring vessel having reached "Port Chalmers, N. Z." Seafaring men would know at once by the name the message bore that the explorers were in Dunedin; but very few persons in America or Europe would know that Port Chalmers and Dunedin denote the same place. Durban, South Africa, is another instance of a place known by two names. A seafaring man would call Durban "Port Natal" instead of the name by which it is better known; and cables also give it as Port Natal. Instances could be cited of a captain saying he was sailing to a certain "port" which a passenger never heard of, but who would readily recognize the place if the name was mentioned as it is designated in books.
The apteryx—or kiwi, as this bird is generally called—is a native of New Zealand, and one of the strangest fowl in the world. Man, beast, animal and fowl have been provided with two arms and two legs, four legs, or two legs and two wings, respectively. The kiwi, as large as a hen and brown of color, however, has been furnished with two legs, but has no wings. Its feet are similar to those of other fowl; it has a long bill, and thin, scattering feathers grow straight from its head. The sides of the kiwi appear as free of wings as those of a cat. The habits of that strange bird are similar to the pheasants. Its call note, "ki-i-wi!" uttered during the early hours of the night, has great penetrating power, and ceases after midnight.
"Not far from here is a waterfall with a drop of 2,000 feet—the highest in the world," remarked a patriotic New Zealander. "Is it an uninterrupted waterfall?" was asked. "No, there are several breaks," was the answer. When reminded that Yosemite Falls, in California, has a sheer drop of 1,600 feet and a total descent of 2,400 feet, it occurred to him he may have used the word "world" inadvisedly. Not far from Dunedin is the natural scenic section of that country, with a splendid chain of lakes, glaciers, high mountains and attractive gorges. The highest mountain in Australia is 7,000 feet, and Mount Cook, not far from Dunedin, rises to 12,000 feet. Cold weather prevails in this section in winter, accompanied by ice, snow and blizzards.
No snakes or poisonous insects are said to be found in that country. One may lie down on the earth in any place and have no fear of being bitten or stung by anything that lives under or on the surface.
From Dunedin to Christchurch I had my first experience riding on New Zealand trains, owned by the government. Some of the passenger coaches are patterned after the American cars. The track is more than a foot narrower—3 feet 6 inches—which does not allow room for two persons on a seat on each side of the car aisles. One row of seats will seat two persons, but those on the other side accommodate but one person. Seats are upholstered, and the train schedule is 30 miles an hour. This was a first-class car, and the fare three cents a mile. Some of the second-class coaches are not as well equipped. Boards, secured to the sides, with only a thin cushion over them, run the length of the vehicle. It is merely a bench, no partition separating passengers, the side of the coach serving as a back rest. The corner seats are coveted ones, as a passenger can put his back to the end and stretch his legs. It is the worst accommodation I have seen in railroad coaches. The government charges its patrons two cents a mile; no reduction in fare is allowed for return tickets.
A hundred miles south of Christchurch the road passes through a rich farming country known as Canterbury Plains. Farm land in that district sells at $200 to $300 an acre. Great quantities of frozen mutton, wool and grain are shipped from Timaru, a seaport town in that section. As many as 6,000,000 carcasses of mutton and lamb are shipped from New Zealand each year. There are over 25,000,000 head of sheep in the Island Dominion.
One would never think it was possible to conduct a farm on an eight-hour basis, yet those are the hours worked by farm hands in New Zealand, with extra pay for overtime. Wages are good, also, as they run from $30 to $40 a month with board.
One would feel safer with hobnails in the soles of his shoes while walking about some of the residential sections of Dunedin, so steep are the hills; but Christchurch is built on a level surface—on Canterbury Plains. Dunedin, as stated, was settled by the Scotch, but Christchurch was settled by the English in 1850, two years after the foundation of Dunedin was laid.
Instead of States, the Dominion of New Zealand is divided into provinces, and Christchurch is the metropolis of the Canterbury Provincial District. It has a population of 70,000 thrifty people, and the city is rich in beautiful flower gardens, fruit trees, and grassy lawns, while the River Avon, its water of a glassy clearness, and its grassy and tree-covered banks, uniting in forming a picture, winds attractively through the city.
Here may be seen splendid churches, colleges and schools. Seldom is a church the center or hub of a city, yet street cars stop and start from the Cathedral of Christchurch, and it is the point from which distances are measured. No skyscrapers, nor such grand buildings as Melbourne and Sydney can boast of are seen here, yet everything has a solid, attractive and complete appearance.
The homes of the people attract attention by the large space in front of them and at the sides. Each lot contains one-quarter of an acre—66 feet in front and 136 feet in depth. Houses are mostly one story, and flowers, shrubs and grass in front and at the sides add much to their comfortable appearance. Most of these are owned by their occupants, and where rent is paid, which, as in Australia, is on a weekly basis, the rate is from $3 to $5. Every home has its own reservoir or water supply. Some thirty feet under the surface there is said to be a lake, and each householder bores in his yard until the water gushes up. The waste water running from these thousands of wells serves as a flushing system. Christchurch streets are of good width—66 feet.
One could not expect to visit a prettier place than Hagley Park, through which the beautiful Avon River runs. Weeping willow trees grow on the banks, and the ends of their drooping limbs are constantly refreshed by the water in which they rest. Besides the general attractiveness of the park, there is a splendid museum containing much of interest, built within the grounds.
"Wait Until Car Stops, Fine $25," is a caution to passengers posted in street cars of that city. Were street car companies in some American cities fined $25 every time a conductor forgot to signal a stop at places where he was requested to do so there would be more appointments kept, money saved passengers, and less wrangling.
Every one is his own bread carver here, as in Dunedin. The New Zealander, like his Australian brother, is a meat eater. Beef sold at 10 to 12 cents, mutton at 6 to 8 cents, and pork at 12 cents a pound.
Good newspapers are printed in this city. Wages are $15 to $16 a week. Laborers receive $2 a day. An eight-hour day is universal in New Zealand.
The system of measurement in both New Zealand and Australia is that of the chain—66 feet. A chain wide, two chains, two-and-a-half chains long, are the terms used.
Prohibition has a considerable hold on the people, as most of the smaller cities are "dry."
Double fare may be charged by cab drivers on holidays only, but in other countries cabbies collect excess fares any time patrons will pay them.
Theaters, bioscopes, amusements and sports of all sorts are found in the city, being freely patronized.
The kea bird of New Zealand is destructive to sheep, and for that reason the government pays a bounty of $5 for every dead kea. This bird is of the parrot species, dark green in color, with a bill an inch and a half in length, curved like a parrot's beak. It will alight on a sheep's back, and at once attack the animal in the section of the kidneys with its sharp bill, as the only part the kea cares for is the fat growing about the kidneys. The animal naturally bleeds to death in a short time, when the bird gratifies its appetite at leisure. The desire for this food is an acquired one, as the kea first got its taste for sheep fat from skins hung on fences and other places to dry.
The islands of New Zealand are divided by Cook's Straits, which are 40 miles wide. One section, lying south of Cook's Straits, is known as South Island, and the land north of the straits is termed North Island. We have been traveling in South Island, which is far richer.
Port Lyttleton, the port for Christchurch, is located nine miles from the metropolis. Boats run to Wellington daily, the sailing time being ten hours.
One man one vote, and one woman one vote, is the scope of franchise New Zealand offers. Parliament is composed of 70 members, elected for three years. Several political parties exist in the Dominion, and the one in power chooses from among the Assembly a successor for the Premiership. Although the Premier is the responsible head of the government, over him is an imperial official, a governor-general, from the British Isles, who is appointed by the King of England. New Zealand, in common with other colonies of the British Empire, pays the governor-general's salary. The Cook group of islands, located 1,800 miles northeast of Wellington in the Southern Pacific Ocean, is a dependency of New Zealand, and its affairs are administered by the Dominion Parliament.
Previous mention has been made of a good railway station in Dunedin, and that nearly completed the substantial government buildings seen when that country was visited. We also commented on the poor accommodation furnished second-class passengers on railway trains, though paying two cents a mile. A wooden building—if it has not since been replaced—"the largest wooden office building in the world," is pointed out to visitors to Wellington. A government office building in the capital of a country—built of wood! The worst public building in the splendid city of Christchurch was the government railway station; the station at Wellington would not make a decent sheep shed. With passenger and freight rates sufficient, and a heavy import duty collected on most commodities entering the country, together with an annual tax on incomes of $1,500 and over, the dearth of creditable public buildings, and the inferior railway accommodation afforded second-class passengers, would seem to suggest that government management did not bear the mark of striking efficiency. On the other hand, the people are thrifty, courteous, kind, congenial and mostly in good circumstances.
The business portion of Wellington is built at the bottom of a chain of high hills, with a splendid harbor front. These hills are so steep that stairways and cable lines figure largely as utilities by which residents reach their homes. One misses the convenient squares and parks found in other centers in that part of the world, but the absence of these here is accounted for by lack of room, as the space between the butts of the hills and the docks is limited even for business purposes. Some distance from the business center, however, is a good botanical garden, and in another direction are creditable parks, with sports grounds included, which enable the capital to make a fair showing in this particular.
Most of the dwellings are of wood, and rents are, like the hills surrounding the city, high. The weekly system of paying bills is customary here. Some of these homes, for which $25 and $35 a month rent is paid, are difficult to reach, even after one has alighted from a cable car. Rents are higher in Wellington than in any city of Australasia. Wages, too, are comparatively low. Laborers receive no more than in cities where rent is much cheaper. Mechanics receive about $3 a day.
One cannot but observe the trend of industrial advancement in almost every quarter of the globe visited. It is a very dull place, indeed, where houses or buildings of some sort are not under course of construction. In Wellington the sound of hammer and saw is heard in valleys and on hillsides miles away from the city. Landlords squeezed their tenants so hard that the government was finally induced to help the citizens by advancing money with which to build homes on sites some distance from the capital.
Arbitration courts fix wages, but that system of settling disputes between employer and employe works out better in theory than in practice, judging from the number of strikes that so frequently take place. Anyway, one clause of this law is very effective—if a man works for an employer for a less wage than had been fixed by the court, both employer and employe are fined.
Double-decked street cars are in use in Wellington, as in cities of the South Island. A few cars run on Sunday up to 2 o'clock in the afternoon. The fare up to that hour being 12 cents, persons going to and from church might have reason to pinch on the contribution to make up for excessive street-car charges. The custom is hard to explain. Certainly, it is too far to walk from some of the valleys to the city, but, as a limited number of cars are run for the convenience of churchgoers, why this overcharge? It is possible church-going people have a Sunday commutation ticket; if so, non-churchgoers who patronize the cars would pay the freight.
Gas costs $1.80 a thousand feet here. A private company controls this commodity.
Wellington, with a population of 75,000, is the chief seaport of New Zealand. In addition to being located in the center of the two islands, its good, land-locked harbor, deep enough to admit vessels of great draught, adds greatly to its commercial prestige. Big vessels plying between England and New Zealand dock and start from here.
Meat is no dearer than in other New Zealand cities—6 to 12 cents a pound. Telegraph messages cost but 12 cents for 12 words.
The government pays pensions to citizens who have reached the age of 65 years and whose incomes do not exceed $240 a year. This rate is the same as is paid in Australia—$2.40 a week each to husband and wife.
The Town Hall, with other municipal and business buildings, is a creditable one, and its auditorium and balconies are packed with people who attend the Sunday evening concerts, furnished by the city, which do not begin until church services are over. A good museum is another attraction. Little in favor of the streets can be said, however, for they are poorly laid out and are not kept as tidy as those in other cities.
Newspapers are well up to the mark for the size of the city, and had I been short of funds, I could have kept my head above water, as I was offered work here.
The standard of law and order maintained in the Island Dominion may be inferred when it is mentioned that there are no keys to doors in some hotels. When shown to a room at one place the absence of a key was brought to the attention of the clerk. "There are no keys to any of the rooms," he explained, in a matter-of-fact manner. Notwithstanding high rents and the high price of gas, hotel expenses were only $1.20 a day.
Pelorus Jack, the pilot fish, lives on the other side of Cook's Straits from Wellington. Like the kea bird and the kiwi, he is in a class by himself—the most remarkable fish in the world. He is perhaps the only pilot that ever lived who knows nothing about the science of navigation. Pelorus Jack belongs to the dolphin family. His length is about 14 feet, and he is bluish-white in color. His home is in Pelorus Sound, and the channel from that body of water to Nelson is very tortuous. Where the channel becomes dangerous for ships, Jack will be found, waiting. When a vessel reaches the mouth of the channel, the dolphin sallies forth, faithfully following the curves of the route, and the ship is steered in accordance with his trail. Outgoing vessels are also met by this remarkable fish, who precedes the ship until it has reached safe water. The Maoris aver that Jack has lived in these parts for generations, and in their eyes he is an ocean god. An act of Parliament was passed in 1904 protecting all fish of that species in New Zealand waters. As Jack is probably the only fish of his sort living in Cook's Straits, he enjoys the exclusive protection of the legislative decree.