Threads of History in the Onehunga of To-day

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 584, 9 February 1929, Page 17

Threads of History in the Onehunga of To-day

Sir John Logan Campbell and the Springs . .. “Siamese” Houses and Their Uses ... White Bluffs . . . Wreck of the 111-Fated Orpheus . . . Gold Rush Days . . .

Written for THE SUN by

E. H. S. MILLER

F course, there Is I ■ Onehunga, but—” j “Well, it'll have I to he Milford, or Rangitoto, or some- j where new and lively.” The group moved out of earshot, but one of Its members remained. Subdued hy the years, he carried no camera nor sported a holiday panama. -I used to live in Onehunga,” he said wistfully. “I’d like to see it again, to pick up old threads dropped by the broom of progress. A few must remain, disregarded, unknown —traces of the town I knew.” • * • Old friend, you shall be my guide, lending me eyes to see the Onehunga of other days. A tramcar in Queen Street . . . Rush of traffic . . . Upper Symonds Street ... “Fares please” . . . Newmarket ... a longer, faster run. . . . Epsom. . . . “Next stop yours.” . . . Onehunga. Here is Queen Street, ahead the sleepy Manukau with its squatting wharf and litter of odd craft. To the left a stretch of tide-swept banks. To the right a bay, and far beyond the hazy hills hiding the bar. But my guide has already begun his tour. He is transformed, alert, walking with singular swiftness, ignoring the town of to-day, its shops and public buildings. He has turned toward the beach, and I must hurry to

orertake him before the first thread is found. We are standing on the edge of the beach in a quiet corner at the back of the town. Some distance away men are labouring in an open paddock, levelling a recreation ground for Ouehunga’s youth, but nere only the bubbling of water breaks the stillness. A little stream springs from the rock

base of a grassy bank and dances toward the sea. And here, sirs, is the first thread. . It was in 1820 that a white man first gazed across the 152 square miles of water that is the Manukau. He was the Rev. Samuel Marsden and lie had journeyed from the Bay of Islands to visit portions of the isthmus. Te Kawau, chief of the Onehunga natives, received him hospitably and, in course of conversation, informed him that the Manukau had an outlet to the sea. “Yes, big ships can come in. Right to here.” The statement was confirmed when the chief took Marsden to the heads and to various commanding points, where the pakeha could examine the Manukau in its relation to the Waitemata. This is simply an historical note, recording history’s first mention ol Onehunga. Twenty years later another white man journeyed to the shores of the Manukau, this time across the isthmus from the Waitemata. He w-as Sir John Logan Campbell, then plain Dr. John Campbell, and he carried blankets, calico, spades and other trader’s goods.

The fact was that Dr. Campbell had noticed one day the arrival at Auckland of a small schooner which lay at anchor for a few days, then departed mysteriously. The shrewd Scot had put two and two together and was convinced that the vessel had

come from Russell to fix the seat of Government. He had long desired to buy land on the Reruuera slopes, but this was the property of Te Kawau. Hence his trip to Onehunga. On the way. Dr. Campbell paused at Maungakiekie (Grand Old Tree) and admired its rounded slopes. After a few inquiries he named it One Tree

\ Hill and sounded the death knell of the old Maori name. The old tree has since gone the w-ay of all timber, but another has grown to uphold the tradition. From the side of One Tree Hill the adventurer had his first view of the Manukau. At the water's edge he

could discern the Maori settlement and the plantations in the rich, prolific soil that has made Onehunga famous. As he approached the flats and came closer to the whares, he passed through acres of kumaras growing abundantly and developing remarkably.

His reception w as fitting to a hungry man. The natives flocked to the meeting place, and the meal that followed was washed down with draughts of “exquisitely clear” spring water.

# n> s Bo we are looking at one of the very springs which refreshed thirsty

Dr. Campbell nearly 90 years ago. They continue to gush from some hidden source as they have done since the dawn of New Zealand history. Summer and winter, in flood and drought, they have remained unchanged. They are Onehunga’s premier blessing—suppliers of one of the Dominion’s best and purest water supplies. Now we must move on. My companion is eager to be gone. He is striding toward the town and turns into a little side street, stopping be- ! fore a quaint old cottage. iHere, then, is the second thread. We shall skip five years.

Dr. Campbell’s minor trading was successful but he failed to achieve the principal object of his visit. He learned, however, that Waitemata land had been sold by Kawau. “Hurrah!” he efied, indulging in an impromptu war dance when he realised the meaning of the schooner’s visit, and guessed that the site of the capital had been fixed. Just one other glimpse before we turn on the calendar: Dr. Campbell made particular note of the richness and productivity of the land. He visited various adjacent localities with the old chief and saw something of the shark-fishing practised by the natives.

It was a smelly business, but shark made good eating. Now we are in 1848 when the Bay of Islands and Waikato Maoris were causing anxiety. Thi3 led to the foundation of Onehunga as a white settlement. Under Sir George Grey’s well-known scheme of establishing military posts across the isthmus, about 100 British pensioners under Captain Kenny were dispatched by the Government to form a headquarters on the brink of the Manukau. Until then only a few odd traders | and beachcombers had penetrated the j areas of scrub, fern and swamp that j lined the plantations.

So the New Zealand JLoya Fencibles marched in am were presented with pension and sections of land. Thes gifts were ideal for the mei who settled contentedly, bu unfortunate for Onehung in that they robbed its foundation residents of necessity and her twin sister, initiative. The cottages built by the Fencibles were economical structures, as they were in pairs, placed end to end under one roof. In each case the dividing wall was on the boundary line between two sections of land, thus each

“Siamese” cottage was in its own territory.

Again a little excursion has synchronised with our historical musings. Before us, is a pair of “Siamese” cottages, standing staunchly in an old-time garden, bearing lightly the burden of 80 years. Kauri is indeed a magnificent timber. . . . But I must avoid by-paths, for my guide is again on his way. Now he is sighting ancient land-marks in old Princes Street. For a moment he pauses at an old mill, but continues on till the beach lies before him. To the left is an old wharf; ahead, and across the bay, white cliffs face the Manukau.

That glance at the old mill cames memory back to the ’sixties. To-day the building is but a part of a larger modern factory. Its timbers are warped but sound and dry, its sides are bleached and withered, but dig-

uified in their maturity. Sixty years ago it was in course of construction. Onehunga came into its own, pro pelled by the opening of the Maori War. A lone outpost was transformed into a bustling military centre, trading began to grow and flourish, hotels were opened, houses were built. In next to no time the natives scarcely recognised the place.

Provisions were needed for the troops. Bycroft’s mill was built where it stands to-day, and under a Government contract, corn was ground. Cattle slaughtering began in new yards, and boat building was an important industry. Onehunga took its place as a key trading centre for it was the nearest port to the Waikato. Its home-made boats journeyed out to the heads and up the Waikato River, carrying troops, ammunition and sup plies.

At that time there was no wharf. A few years later, a wooden wharf was built a little north of the present concrete structure, and in the 'seventies a bridge was thrown across the flats and channel, connecting the town with Mangere, but for the time Onehuuga was obliged to make shift with a boat landing. When ships arrived they were anchored off the white bluffs that are known as Norman’s-Hill. Here the boats were loaded, lowered, and towed ashore. White bluffs , smiling in the sutishine. Another thread . Our next journey is shorter, sadder —a pilgrimage. We stop before a. wooden church and enter a quiet little acre. k "Sacred to the memory of . . * * * February 7, 1863, was a black day in Onehunga’s I

history. It dawned with sunny cheerfulness, and signalmen at the bar saw the 1,700-ton corvette Orpheus, carrying 266 troops and sailors, standing toward the entrance before a stiff sou’-wester.

Two channels beckoned; the shallows lay between. Signalled instructions were given, but the commander tried to take the wrong channel. A few minutes later the ship had touched. A bump, a shudder, and she was aground, swinging broadside on to tne seas wntte comber after comber swept her decks, smashing and splintering boats and gear. Commodore Burnett and his crew laboured in vain. A rescuing vessel stood by and did what could be done, but the combers were relentless and the loss of life appalling. Of that gallant company 185 were drowned.

A man who witnessed the tragedy is alive to-day. His name is Captain Wing, and at the age of SO he is among Onehunga's most respected residents. He saw, too, the melancholy journey of the rescuers to the beach beyond the white bluffs. With others who are alive still he shared in the town's

mourning. The wreck had a bad effect on Onehunga’s reputation as a port. It seemed almost unbelievable that a British man-o’-war could be pounded to destruction at that place and on a brilliant summer’s day. Truly the bar was dangerous.

Tho dead were buried in the cemetery of St. Peter’s the Selwyn Church now in its 81st year. Though the passing years have altered Onehunga completely, a kindly Providence has seen to it that the green, quiet burial ground holds still an hpnoured position in the heart of the town. * * * From the churchyard zee vo to seek the Jast thread. Onehunga is in happy, bustling mood. A benevolent sun warms the air and memories of the Orpheus fade behind the panorama of to-day. Tramcars which link this historic settlement with Auckland rumble on their way. We turn down a side street, passing a new tire brigade station. Then through a gateway and into a trim, bountiful garden. Kumaras, potatoes, onions, peas, beans, rhubarb, apples, passion fruit, and lemons ar® among the products of that amazing i soil.

The close of the Maori War was followed by the discovery of gold on the West Coast, this putting an end to the slump which threatened the active existence of the town. Because the Manukau was the district’s nearest port to Hokitika, meat and produce were shipped in huge quantities, and business speedily waxed prosperous. Onehunga had already made a name for itself as an excellent growing area, and the excellence of its vegetables now became famous. -Kumaras, potatoes, cabbages, onions—everything grown in the gardens of the settlers was shipped south, and diggers with their gold came north. It was a lucrative trade. Cabbages bought In Onehunga for a penny were sold in Hokitika at 2s 6d each, and correspondingly high profits were made in other lines. Diggers paid for their passage with bags of gold, caring little if their offerings were absurdly generous. In 1577 Onehunga was declared a borough, and the future of the town was assured. The excellence of its climate, the invigorating quality of its air, the purity of its water supply, and the richness of its soil had been recognised widely. Only the contented inactivity of its originaJ pensioner-settlers prevented it from expanding at a rate at least equal to other, similarly situated towns. The pensioners became old-timers all. There was a time when the authorities began to suspect that they were being imposed upon, and a commissioner was sent all the way from England to see if these hardy pioneers were really alive.

He received ocular and verbal proot of their existence, and returned to report that the claims were still valid. To-day the pensioners are no more, but their places are taken by descendants who have continued to enjoy the annual gifts of Onehunga's soil. Many of the original sections have been subdivided, but a few remain, relics of military days when the town on the Manukau was making New Zealand's history.