THE LAND OF THE LEVEL ROAD.

Dominion, Volume 3, Issue 829, 30 May 1910, Page 8

THE LAND OF THE LEVEL ROAD.

"TAB-WHITE," THE OLD WHALING STATION.

(By Will Lawson.)

IV. The ball-whale blows at the Brothers When the wind from the EoutVarJ moans. * The hoarse-voiced breakers, growling. Quiver tho sand and stones And under the lee of a hill by the sea Te Awaite rattles her bones. A3 tho mail-boat of the Sounds steams down Tory Channel through water that is swirling in the run of the ebb-tide and occasionally swinging her out of her course, she comes to a point where several rocks jut ont in a fashion quits unusual in these waters. Behind them is presently seen a small bay backed by. a comparatively open piece of ground, all girt by the heights of Arapawa Island. There is a cluster of houses, of modem design but most of them of the bare unrelieved architecture of the old what, ing times, for this is Te Awaite, pronounced Tar-White, one-time whaling and missionary station, and now post and, telegraph station, sheep station, whaling station—written here in the order of importance. A short, substantial wharf is provided, there is a beach of clean, hard, white sand, and everywhere along the beach and foreshore are huge bones, bones of the great cetaceans whose blubber went to make the fortunes of Te Awaite. Even the fence posts here aw of whale ribs, duly morticed to accomodate the rails. And the long whale-boa± shed on the beach is made of the sam« parts of the whale's anatomy, 6et to curve in gracefully at their summits where a thatch of reeds form 6 the roof.

The G-amiet .runs in quietly and is laid alongside the wharf. Her arrival has brought most of the population down* while the settlers from 'near-by bays are here in boats to receive and send away goods and mails. Hardly is the vessel alongside when a harsh and very loud voice shouts unintelligibly; The speaker is an old man, apparently a and wears a. black. shade. over ono eyo. The other has an, intense unblinking Rtart-. His nose is shapeless, he is qriite deaf, and as he rises to his feet he sham-; bles and leans on a stick. This man is one of the middle, school of whalers, as distinguished from the old hands and the modern article. Once, when the crewa were hauling up a dead whale to tha culting-up, something broko, and a cap-stan-bar struck bim a fearful blow, enough to kill any ordinary raau. But these whalers are not ordinary men. Soma of his contemporaries are. on the wharf now, hale, hearty men, turned from whalers to sheep-farmers, and waring rich thereby. Very noticeable an> the strength and depth of their voices when they call to a distant comrade—more like a musical bellow of sound than anything else. Of the.younger generation, well-knit, fearless men, many still bunt the whale in season.' Te Await© is very, near the entrance to Tory Channel, in the next bay to that in which, are tha leading-lights, and on the opposite side of the Sound the land runs out in a nai* row, rocky point, with the open sea oa the far side. Here the look-out is stationed, the boats lying inside the Sound and when he. sights a whale, the crows ara off and away in chase of the big fish. Te Awaite began to be a settlement ia 1827, when Captain Guard, in his brig Harriet, was driven by bad weather into Tory Channel. He was struck "with tha excellent shelter and convenience of the place for* whaling purposes, and so established tho station. Among those associated With him were Barrett, Hd> berly, Jack Love, Joseph Toms, and Jimmy Jackson. Jackson is reported ta have been an admirer of . Napoleoa Bonaparte, and addicted to. quotations from Gutherie's Geography and the Holy Scriptures. In spite of this latter trait,' he once told a missionary that "Sunday never came into the bay," it Was a day in the week which Te Awaite- did not register. Possibly in these modern days Sunday is not such a stranger as •it was to this old whaler, whose widow, it may be told, is still living, while his • son, a lusty, powerful greybeard, owns most of Arapawa Island. * . ' •

Whales were very plentiful then; they came right into the Sound, • and frequently were pursued and captured right up at the head of the Sound, where The Grove now is. But the whales nowa» days are shy. They'appear only as distant in the Strait, and the hauls are as nothing in comparison with those of the past, which have given Te Awaite her bony appearance. Yet it is said that the crews last year cleared £A per week per man, and it is'a free life to'-those who like it. When they aie in the hunting mood, and no whale near, these, men. will .harpoon any fish that seems worthy of their steel, .even the fierce tiger sharks, or taniwhas, as they are called. That crippled whaler on the wharf is a hero' of such an encounter. Eoturning disappointed after pursuing a wary whale,' a taniwha came nosing about- the boat. In an instant the harpoon struck ' ths shark in the head, and in another instant the boat went over, and tho men were in the water with tie shark's groat maw amongst them. But the mouth refused to open, though the beast thrashed and floundered all over them. ' They found that the shaft of the harpoon hod twisted round the, shark's jaw uad h«l4 it shut. After such a thrilling escape, to be. knocked over by a. capstan harl Truly the whaler's life is filled with incident.

To-day there are no whales in sight; the centre of attraction is the weekly, mail-boat. On the beach the settler from over the water and tho captain are shovelling sand into bags, heaving them into the dinghy and rowing them alongside, to be dumped upon the steamer' 6 deck. The ,-deaf cripple has taken himself off to the cluster of. distant houses, about which there are no fences to mark each man's property;, the fences in the settlement are only arouud the patches of cultivation. In one of the houses the mail is being made up. Half a dozen children play on the beach about the wharf-piles—quietly, not. rowdily, as Anglo-Saxons would. These have dark skins, slim, graceful figures, and big wistful eyes, showing their Maori blood. Presently a Maori woman in clean print dress and sun-bonnet comes to ti cottage door and calls— ■ . "Albert." • • One of the thin-legged urchins races off in response. How many British Alberts would run like that when his mother called him ? A boat loaded deep and rowed ,by a clear-skinned, . big-whiskered and big-' limbed whaler moves off down-sound, another goes off in the opposite direction. There is no thought and indeed nochanca of making the journey by land—always they go by water. ,The freight left on the wharf is carried away by some young half-castes, free-moving, free-living, with an almost insolc-ut independence of man-; ner, though with a hint of diffidence. They are tho particular product of Te Awaite, of- the reckless, fearless, hardliving whalers and their handsome, cleanly Maori wives, for tho women of To Awaite came of a very'housewifely tribe. Soon begins the bustle of the out-going mail and the embarkation of the passengers for Picton. The steam is sing, iug in the 'scape ■ pipe, and that mean? waste of coal. So it's "All aboard!" Again there is a gathering of foib. This rime the tidy matrons have joined the throng to bid farewell to the school teacher, who is a passenger for town. A big man comes with- the mail bags, the old cripple pegging along beside him, and shouting wordless things. A lot of (larkskinned youths and girls, then the'girlteacher among the Maori and half-casto women. She is a pretty girl, uc-atlj dressed. Tot the contrast of colour, tire light brown in every face save hers, tha black hair, and tlx' gold of hers make a picture in which the pure Anglo-Saxon glows with a beauty, a fire, a spirit, that the soft brown skin can never show. So we back out of Te Awaite to the waving of hands and shouted messages, s-.ving vride, and then steam away, turning a Inst glance at the quiet toy. The sunlight blazes down on Te Awaite, onco a rowdy, rollicking whaling station, where night was turned into day and there was no Sunday. And ono thinks of the quiet little children playing gentijj among the wharf-piles.