But I have said enough to indicate my belief that as a relief from the so-called pleasure-grounds of Europe with their terrible expensiveness and nerve-racking pleasures, it is a change of the most perfectly delightful and health-giving kind to pay our Antipodean brethren a visit, remembering that in these days of luxurious ocean travel the distance is, as Mr. Micawber said with less truth, merely imaginary.
FOOTNOTE:
[3] Now (1907) Prime Minister.
XVII THE CAPITAL OF WONDERLAND
At daylight I came on deck to witness the steamer's arrival at Wellington. I have often heard many hard things about the capital of New Zealand. How, for instance, it was so subject to tremors of the unstable earth that no buildings could be erected save of the flimsiest character, how every day was evil, in that gales of wind were the rule and fine weather the rarest exceptions, while rain was almost a permanent feature of the atmospheric conditions. All of which statements were, of course, exaggerated, but still I felt must have a certain basis of truth; and I wondered why. This morning I know, and although I gladly admit the exaggeration, I feel fully persuaded that Wellington, despite its truly splendid harbour, is hardly used in the matter of climate. It lies at the foot of a closely investing range of high hills, the other sides of which are exposed to the full fury of the brave westerly winds which sweep around the world, only just deflected slightly by two outlying points of the South Island, Cape Farewell and D'Urville Island. Consequently the immense amount of moisture brought across the mighty Southern Ocean finds a congenial arrestment by the hills on whose eastern slopes Wellington lies, and the fierce squalls which sweep through the streets are only what will always be experienced on the lee side of high lands. Then, too, Wellington lies in the direct line of the backbone of New Zealand, the mountain chain which, with hardly a break, extends through its whole length from north to south, or, more correctly, from NNE. to SSW.; which, in view of the fact that this is essentially a volcanic country, will, I think, sufficiently account for Wellington's liability to seismic disturbance. At the same time it must be remembered that of late years these terrifying vibrations of the earth's crust have been so few and feeble here as to encourage the erection of substantial buildings, all of which, however, have been put up with the greatest possible attention to such details of structure as may be expected to minimise as much as possible any earthquake effects.
Fortunately my first view of Wellington was a favourable one. The weather was fine but overcast, still, although the sun was hidden, the air was clear, and I was able to take in the details of the grand land-locked harbour, the really splendid system of wharfage, and the imposing appearance of the buildings, which came right down to the wharves themselves. But I was, I remember, also impressed by the fact that Wellington looked cramped for room, and I was not at all surprised to hear, as I had been at Auckland, that an enormous amount of this crowded foreshore was reclaimed land, won back from the sea by an enormous expenditure of capital and labour, and returning a very high percentage upon the outlay. As in recent places which I have visited, but in a more restricted sense, Wellington appears from the bay like a town on sufferance, incapable of being extended in any direction save seaward, which extension has, of course, severe limits. But I learn without surprise that the surrounding hills are gradually being taken up for suburban residences, for the electric car takes little account of hills, and Wellington has a very fine system indeed, exactly like our own at home.
The business aspect of Wellington, especially as regards its shipping, is so striking as to make it difficult indeed to realise that its population is less than 60,000, or a quarter less than that of Auckland. The wharves here have an enormous area, and such monster ships as those of the White Star Line and New Zealand Shipping Company, that is to say vessels up to 12,000 tons register, lie at these wharves and load quite comfortably, while the position is so easy of access and so sheltered that vessels may come and go at any time of the day or night. This is the great distributing centre for the whole of New Zealand, most advantageously placed, geographically speaking, and with its people most keenly alert to extend their trade in every conceivable direction. Here may first be realised what a gigantic concern the Union Steamship Company of New Zealand has grown into from its very small and tentative beginnings about thirty-five years ago. It has now a fleet of fifty-five vessels, speedy, efficient, and well kept up; from vessels of nearly 6,000 tons gross register and 6,000 horse-power, which carry the "all red" mails to Vancouver, and the scarcely less splendid steamers of the Intercolonial service, in one of which I shall presently be sailing—the Manuka, of 4,505 tons and 4,500 horse-power twin screw—down to the few small vessels which act as feeders from the tiny outlying coast hamlets. This fleet, which is almost essentially a coastal one, has a total tonnage of 112,540 tons, which is not surpassed by any similar service in the world with the sole exception of the British India. And there the comparison is manifestly unfair, since quite a large proportion of the B.I. fleet are ocean liners in the fullest sense of the term. It is nothing short of marvellous how so small a country as regards population should have developed so splendid a fleet out of its coastal trade and communications with Australia.