Under the Southern Cross / Or Travels in Australia, Tasmania, New Zealand, Samoa, and Other Pacific Islands

by Maturin M. Ballou

The longest night must have an end. The half-hour strokes of the sonorous ship's-bell rang upon the ear through the fierce howling of the gale, until the morning light finally broke, which seemed to be a signal for the abating of the storm, as by and by the sun rose bright and clear from behind the yet mountainous waves. No observation had been obtained on the previous day owing to the cloudy condition of the sky, so that it was impossible exactly to define our position; but dead reckoning showed we must be nearing the land, and as the sea began rapidly to subside, it was evident that we were under the lee of the shore. As the day advanced, the sun burned away the mist and revealed to us the mountains of the southern coast of New Zealand, with their tops clad in virgin white. Midway between summit and base cloud-wreaths decked the range of hills, which in the sun's rays seemed struggling with one another for precedence. We skirted the mainland for hours, encountering numerous islands, now and again opening dark mountain gorges which came down to the very shore, enabling one to look deep into the mysterious heart of the hills and discover new peaks extending far inland. Clouds of sea-martins wheeled about the ship, saluting us with strange cries, some alighting upon our very topmasts, where they paused for a moment and then launched into the air again. This sea-bird, in size between the common gull and the Cape-pigeon, is peculiar to this coast; we had never seen a live specimen before. As they settle upon the water or rise from it, their red legs become conspicuous, and are in singular contrast to their soft white bodies and light slate-colored wings. They are a tame and fearless bird, flying about the ship almost within arm's reach. One was secured by a foremast hand and brought aft, seeming to care no more for his temporary captivity than a domestic fowl would have done. Their feathery covering is exquisitely soft and glossy, the under part of the wings and the body having a covering as delicate as the downy plumage of young goslings. Our feathery captive when released joined his companions, and was saluted by loud cries of welcome.

The west and southwest coasts of New Zealand, which we were skirting, are indented with deep fjords almost precisely like the coast of Norway from Bergen to Hammerfest; and singular to say, these arms of the sea, like those of the far north, are much deeper than the contiguous ocean,—a practical evidence of their being of similar original formation. While we were remarking upon these peculiarities, the captain of the "Mararoa" recalled the fact that it is always the west coast of any land which is indented in this remarkable manner, let the cause be what it may.

Just as the sun set like a blazing fire-ball in the sea upon the western horizon, the ship rounded the bold promontory known as "the Bluff," and winding up the narrow channel into the harbor was soon moored to the one pier of the place. This was none too promptly done, for no sooner was the ship made fast than the darkness of night enshrouded both land and water.

A woman who had anticipated the arrival of the "Mararoa" had set up a temporary oyster-stand on the pier, by placing a couple of boards across two barrels, beside which she had raised a powerful blazing flambeau. Here she opened and dispensed fresh bivalves. And such oysters we have rarely seen; they were in their prime, large, full, and perfect in flavor. Blue Points could not excel them. It seems that oysters are a specialty here, whence they are shipped in large quantities to Tasmania and Australia. It was a weird and curious picture presented by the group on the pier,—the blazing, flickering flambeau casting flashes upon the many faces, and all surrounded by deep shadows and darkness. Among the spectators of the ship's arrival who had come to the pier were a score of half-breeds,—Maori girls and men, laughing and chattering like monkeys. A night's sleep, a quiet night in harbor and on board ship, was a needful process of recuperation after the experience of the previous one on a raging sea, and we rose wonderfully refreshed the next morning. At breakfast we were regaled with New Zealand oysters and fresh fish.

The Bluff—also known as Campbelltown—is located in the very track of storms, and is open to the entire sweep of the great Antarctic Ocean. Its shelving side, sloping toward the harbor, forms a sort of lee,—a sheltered position which is occupied by a pretty little fishing village of some sixty houses, with a population of less than a thousand. These people gain their living mostly from the neighboring sea, and from such labor as is consequent upon the occasional arrival of steamships on their way to the north. Here we took refreshment at the Golden Age Hotel,—a primitive little inn, quaint to the last degree, its reception-room ornamented with many species of stuffed birds, mostly sea-fowls, among which was a preserved specimen of the albatross even larger than the one whose dimensions we have already given. There was a well-preserved seal hanging from a hook in the wall; also a sword-fish, and a young shark of the man-eating species. On one side of this room was a glass case of curious shells, large and small; and on the opposite side was an open bar presided over by a ruby-nosed Bardolph.

The Golden Age is noticeable as being the most southerly public house of entertainment in the world. Twelve months previous, being exactly one year to a day, we had partaken, at Hammerfest, in Norway, of the hospitality of the most northerly hotel on the globe. When this coincidence was casually mentioned to the host of the Golden Age, he would have immolated us on the altar of his hospitality had we not discreetly retreated to the ship.

A single day was passed at the Bluff, a place so small that one could "do" it in an hour; and yet there was much of interest here to be observed. One is paid for ascending the high point of the Bluff, some nine hundred feet, by the fine view afforded of land and sea. Many half-caste people were observed, born of intermarriage between Europeans and the aborigines. Some of the young women of this descent were remarkable for possessing fine eyes, rich brown complexions, white teeth, clear-cut features, and a great wealth of long black hair. These answer to our quadroons of the Southern States in appearance, having the same dainty touch of color on the cheeks and lips. In figure they were tall and well-formed; but we were told that, like our quadroons, they are a short-lived race. There are a few half-breed men to be seen about the town, mostly engaged in service to the whites as boatmen and fishermen. They are said to make excellent and intelligent seamen.

Taking the cars at the Bluff one can run up to Invercargill, a distance of seventeen miles, consuming, however, a full hour in the transit. This was found to be quite a pleasant and busy town of about eight thousand inhabitants, which has grown to its present condition very rapidly. We were told that twenty-five years ago it had less than a hundred inhabitants. It is now the chief town of what is known as the District of Southland,—a large and fertile district. The town is built upon a perfectly level plain; the streets are unusually wide, and the place is neat and thrifty. The principal thoroughfare is Dee Street, in which are the banks, insurance offices, the Post-Office, and the Athenæum. A liberal provision by those who laid out the town was made for its future growth, which is reasonably expected to be rapid on account of its commercial advantages. The buildings of Invercargill are substantial and handsome, including several fairly good hotels. Some building was observed to be in progress, and other evidences of growth and prosperity were manifest. The town is situated one hundred and fifty miles south of the city of Dunedin, with which it has considerable trade, and is the terminus of the Southern Trunk Line of New Zealand. The neighborhood is mostly taken up for pastoral and agricultural purposes, fruit-raising, and the like. There are valuable coal-fields here, and it is a considerable wool depot. Our visit was of the briefest, as we took the cars the same afternoon back to the Bluff, whence we were to sail northward.

It is a curious fact, probably remembered by few of our readers, that Franklin proposed in a printed article to colonize New Zealand from our own country, so highly did he regard the possible advantages to be thus derived. This plan, if it had been adopted, would have anticipated by nearly a hundred years the action of the English Government in that direction. As early as the year 1800 our whalers had learned to seek the sperm whale in these waters, and to enter the harbors of New Zealand for wood and water and to make necessary repairs. American sailors, as well as others, shipped on board these vessels, and while in port here took Maori mistresses; and the children who sprang from these unions became numerous, their descendants being at once recognized to-day. Such have generally sought European connections, and are occasionally found here and there in all parts of the country, frequently engaged in the walks of business life. It will be remembered that New Zealand did not become a recognized British colony until the year 1840. For three quarters of a century after Cook's first visit the native tribes remained in free possession of their country. It is true that England was constructively mistress of these islands by right of discovery, but she made no formal assumption of political domain until the period already named, when it was formed into a colony subordinate to the Government of New South Wales. Up to the year 1840 English and American trading-vessels and whalers bought and sold articles from the natives, mostly consisting of flax (the wild growth of the country), for which they paid in fire-arms and powder,—though the weapons thus disposed of to the Maoris were such generally as had been condemned as useless in American or European lands. The sale of fire-arms to the islanders was stopped as soon as the English took formal possession; but in the mean time the Maoris had possessed themselves of sufficient weapons to make them dangerous enemies in the warfare which so soon became a settled condition of affairs between them and the white invaders. As early as 1815 white men of a venturous disposition began to settle in small numbers among the natives; but often their fate was to be roasted and eaten by cannibals. Before 1820 missionaries, no doubt influenced by truly Christian motives, came hither and devoted their lives to this people,—in more senses than one, as it is well known that they not infrequently met with a fate similar to that of their secular brethren.

In 1839 an incorporated association in London, called the New Zealand Company, sent out a ship loaded with emigrants to settle in the country. These were the pioneers who established the city of Wellington, the present capital of the islands. The country was still under the jurisdiction of New South Wales; but in 1841 it was constructed into an independent colony, and the first Legislative Council was held at Auckland. Thenceforth special settlements were regularly made by shipments from England; and in 1852 the Imperial Parliament granted the people of New Zealand a charter of self-government. By this act the sovereign power was vested in a General Assembly, consisting of a Governor appointed by the Crown, and two Houses,—a Legislative Council, or Upper House, the members of which are nominated by the Government, and a House of Representatives chosen by the people at large.