OUR DISTRICT AND OUR SETTLERS.—No. 8.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume I, Issue 53, 30 January 1884, Page 2

OUR DISTRICT AND OUR SETTLERS.—No. 8.

A TRIP UP THE COAST; (BY OUB SPECIAL BXroBTBB.j IHB COAST FBOM THE SEA. To the person fond of travel there is a special charm attached to a sea voyage along the East Coast of New Zealand from Gisborne Harbor so far as the future maritime City of Tuparoa. This voyage I undertook On Battlrday, in company with Captain Porter, Mr. Watson; Solicitor, Mr. Dalton, Native interpreter, and an influential Maori chief, whose name is destined to become popular presently through hie connection with the Maori nowspaper—the WMa Maori — the editorial duties of which he has undertaken to fulfll. The day being bright and dear, the many pretty little bays and thousands of hills in the distance were seen to much advantage as we stood on the deck of the Union Company's steamboat the Southern Cross—now termed a " little boat" since the advent of those floating palaces with which we have of lafe years become So familiar; This steamer has been described by some people as " a veritable Old tub,” but, from the way she ploughed the ocean blue and sped along on the occasion of our trip, she is undeserving of that designation, 'The Southern Cross is a very serviceable boat for trading along this coast, and, *, she arrived at our destination after jtMi eight hours’ steaming; I fee nd reason fdr complaint; From the steamer it could be seen thdt ill nearly all the bays up the coast it was possible to land passengers and cargo, but in no place more easily than the locality kno vn generally as Open Bay, a sheet of

smooth water within eight miles of Tuparoa. At the latter place the sea was rather rough, but Mr, Milner's surf-boat, manned by Natives, came alongside with comparative ease. To descend from the steamer to the boat, however, with Old Father Neptune sb troublesome just then; was not one of the easiest matters. Captain Porter and Mr. Dalton took things complacently, and lowered themselves with comparative ease, but it was otherwise with Mr. Watson. Lawyers On terra ftrma are noted for their ajitltddo In driving a coach-and-foilr throiigh an Act of Parliament; and also tor sometimes stemming a tide of litigation, but generally they are off their legs when at sea. So it was with my friend Mr, Watson. While he was oontem-

plating by what Act of George 111. the sea claimed the right to be angry at that particular place and moment, the Maori captain of the surf-boat held out hia arms to aaaist our corpulent bundle of legal lore in loweriflg, He mads the attempt, and descended the ladder. The Native in the boat took him by the legs, simultaneously the little boat begad to toss more merrily than before; and the steamer kept on drifting sternwarda. The Maori pulled by the legs, the lawyer clutched like grim death to the ladderway, The incident of the moment gave promise that Mr. Watson was destined to take a trip to the bottom of the sea, to advise the fishes that Mr. Poynter's fishing-excursion party was out, some miles down the Coast, when the surf-boat came close alongside again, and, without further difficulty, he landed safely on board the boat, What Mr. Watson experienoed may fall to the lot of any traveller who attempts to land at Tuparoa when the sea is rough at that particular spot. But it is sometimes as smooth as a mill-pond, and no unpleasantness arises. I rather enjoyed the little episode that betel Mr. Watsorjto I stood on the deck ot the Cross, turn to descend, little dreaming how soon my fellow-passengers were destined to enjoy a

hearty laugh at my expense. Stiff and awkward as I generally am, I transferred myself from steamer to surf-boat with comparative ease, and chaffed Mr. Watson. As we were being pulled towards the shore, the order was given to take off shoes and socks, in readiness to jump out when we arrived, and so frustrate the action of the breakers as

the surging waters took a backward course. “ Jump,” said a Maori to me. I instantly obeyed, but in doing so got caught by the left leg, and overboard I went. At the instant along rolled a heavy breaker, and the next moment I found it had carried me ashore, where I lay, wet as a fish, minus my spectaeles, at the feet of Sir George Whitmore, who had run down from his East Coast homestead to accord us a welcome. The loss of the spectacles could not be remedied, but there was a very amusing spectacle seen shortly afterwards, when a little man, measuring not a fraction more than sft. 2in., appeared on the verandah of Mr. Milner’s accommodation-house, as comfortable as if nothing had happened, attired in a dry suit of clothes belonging to a gentleman of 6ft. din. in height. At least, that is the mental and visionary measurement I estimate Mr. Dalton at. The reader of these little episodes must not fancy Tuparoa is a very terrible place to land at, but, nevertheless, I have written sufficient to show that it is absolutely necessary to exercise care in the course of transference from the steamer to the boat, and from the boat to the shore. Barring the chances of being sea-sick, my advice to any person who contemplates visiting the

Southern Cross Oil Springs, which lie beyond, is to take the sei route, and then, if he wishes to gain some experience of the Coast, to travel on horseback over hills and over mountains, along the sea shore, and through deep rgvinegj back to the town of Gisborne. During my fortnight’s absence, I have visited all the stations along the Coast. What I Saw and heard, and some suggestions as to the requirements of the scattered settlers along this immense stretch of country, will form many chapters in “Our District and Our Settlers.” The first point of interest, then, will be the estate recently acquired by that well-kown old warrior and settler— Colonel Sir George Whitmore, which commences at the landing-place at Tuparoa, and extends for many miles towards the Southern Cross Petroleum Company’s works at Rotokantoku. (To be continued.)