The Flying Squadron.

Cromwell Argus, Volume I, Issue 13, 9 February 1870, Page 3

The Flying Squadron.

We lake from the Ohristclinrcli Presn the following racy description of the recent visit of the Squadron to [jyttelton : That the Flying Squadron would visit Canterbury had been contradicted as often as it had been asserted. No sooner had the Provincial Council, in a blush of patriotic enthusiasm, voted £SOO for the visitors' entertainment, and theC.J.C, anxious to reflect the popular ambition to be hospitable, " even if we bad to borrow the money to do it with, deferred their race meeting—than lo ! we were told that Canterbury could not possibly he included in the visiting list. We had no sooner philosophically imbibed the disappointment, than our daily speculations on the past, present, and future of our great colony, and of this our province in particular, Were again broken by rumours that the Squadron " might come "—" our races would be such a temptation." Cynics laughed. More telegrams passed pro and con. The Governor "hoped"—the Admiral "regretted." At last, faiHy worn out, the subject was dropped, and the passage of the Plying Squadron round the Bluff was to Canterbury no more than that of the Flying Dutchman round the Cape..' It was a discarded love—a thing that had ceased to I mow our pulses. Some bitterly read cans-

tio remarks on England's usual diplomatic tact in shewing her might u struggling colonies, while niggard-like she refused either to give 'it, or lend it, or sell it. The Squadron pnssed, Otago Heads. On Tm-s----day night it was. observed the Squadron ,wns probably in the offing, on tho passage to 'Wellington. "Let it go—it is a thing of nought;" and we continue our remarks on the badness of the weather, tlie times, ; and l other thing»j n visit from the Flying Squadron would probably have remedied, Some one says he lias hoard the Squadron is coining into harbour. The first prophet is stoned. < Several other .gossips are pn'olipoohed for repeating it, The fact is proclaimed that the Flying Squadron is at anchor. Officials feet a dreadful rcsponsi bility to be. joyous.. I low. long do they stay ? How can wo spend £SOO in so short a time? What can we do in a day ? Our races are really very good. Mr Colo drives six horses. ! There must be a ball. Make every banker a steward. Morion improvises cold poultry, bottles with long necks, and bottles with short necks. The tallest Ires grawles dames fall victims to the smallest of naval cadets. The young conqueror is evidently inured to victory. We are pleased to make such offerings. The Clcb, from being a haunt of tinman pelicans, is bursting with naval hilarity. Everybody goes \iq[ bed everywhere. , Strangers are seen in the custody of old identities. They are shown flax-bushes, cabbage-trees,, our buildings. Cathedral-square, and other curiosities. Marines and men-of-vvar's-men appear in the streets. Canterbury at large becomes demonstrative, and begins, as it were, to hug her darling Flying Squadron with its lovely uniform. Everybody rushes to the Port. Enormous trains (for Canterbury) dash through the tunnel. Arrived, we find every steamer that can screw or paddle, whistling—Why whistling? Everybody goes on. the water. There is a fresh breeze from the south west, but we go. The Admiral sends boats for our party. Tho nice little middy might'be one of our own children—and we are not so very old. There is a motion of rising and falling. We stare up at the naked throat of a stalwart coxswain. There is a mutual understanding between that little officer and Ids more experienced sub-professional that obtains our strongest approbation. Our stomach is not strong : no more was. Nelson's; " We are 'glad that the voyage is ovi.r. That ladder, with two handy, civil, obliging sailors to help you, is a safe way of doing a dangerous thing. What a wonderful structure is a man-of-war. We take j off our hats to 11.iVI. quarter-deck. All covered in with flags;' how nice is every--..thing. How quickly do the ladies become disposed of. There are a great many ; but wherever you see a young lady you sec an officer. We catch a peep through the skylight of diaper, glass, silver, flowers, cold meats, anil amber fluids. Our enthusiasm for the Flying Sqnadron sensibly increases. Canterbury certainly continues:to possess many pretty women—they are also well- i dressed, some are always nicely dressed, j most of them never better than to-day We are glad on public grounds. ,Therei is the Church—the Bench—our Provincial Executive, —and, behold! arriving in a boat by itself, the Christcburch Municipal Council. Well done, Admiral Hornby ! Between-decks we criticise tho apparatus for removing the Queen's enemies We see one ot our volunteer officers properly examining a Snider—another is deep in the mysteries of one of those elaborate engines, the carriages to the gigantic soda-water-bottle shaped guns. We go forward. .The inner life of the ship is going on all the same for the festivities aft Carpenters are at work making gratings—saihnakers are sewing. In a nook we come on a sempster, patching a blue shirt, and making as neat work as a, woman. What a constant traffic up and down Miat ladder, whose steps are two iron rods—not over comfortable for i naked feet! Shoes and stockings are not much worn. What a hum of population down that opening ! We look towards a port-hole : we see brown cliffs, yellow and green grass, a shore, and foam. Anon the picture passes, peep-show like, up the frame, and the next picture is a sea of curling waves. We think of the table spread for lunch. We retrace our steps. The .Admiral's cabin is crammed with a crowd, eating, drinking, and talking. The Indies will soon be done, we are informed by a servant who evidently serves gentlemen. We ascend to the fresh air. The band plays. The indefatigable officers are dancing again. Tongues, loosened by good cheer, wag merrily as their owners come on rkok. The deck—the size of the Town Hall floor —-is covered with dancers. We are invited below —wo solace our stomachic system. On our.return we look more benignly on the whirling couples. Somebody makes a move to go ashore, and we make our best bows, and find ourselves in a boat—one of a procession of fi»'e boats, towed by a steam launch. In this way the powers are landed when our good-humoured visitors are engaged in professional operations. Will FI.M 's steam launches ever tow strings of boats for other purposes into our bay ? Bah ! Seated in the train, how snug and comfortable is the cushioned carriage! See, it begins to rain—the *vind is rising. We think of those we left dancing and their little voyage afterwards ; and as the train • moves off, we congratulate ourselves we • have done with the Flying Squadron.