YACHTING’S “GOOD OLD DAYS”

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 716, 16 July 1929, Page 16

YACHTING’S “GOOD OLD DAYS”

MORE STORIES OF YESTERYEAR The mail brines a letter from one of the early-day yachtsmen, who calls himself “Kite.” “Keelson” does not necessarily subscribe to his enthusiastic correspondent’s views about tired businessmen and prefers to think “Kite” has lost his sense of proportion in the misty past. He writes: “First Mate’s” yarn of “Them Were the Days,” in The Sun last Tuesday, prompted memories of those days, and the recognition that, for good or evil, much of the old spirit of mischief and devil-may-care that added zest to the gatherings in the bays at week-ends seems to have vanished. Boating has become the pastime of tired businessmen, so tired that they cannot even enjoy running wild when they get the chance. Possibly the advent of civilisation into the nearer bays lias had something of a taming effect. One does not see the regular cricket match and football tussle on the beach in Squadron Bay, the rendezvous at Drunken Bay, or the annual gathering for the Oddfellows’ picnic at Motutapu. I well recollect a regatta at Awaroa. We all arrived in good trim and the bay was well filled, the moon setting on as pretty a picture of marine pleasaunce as one could imagine. Shortly after daybreak there were loud wailings and vociferous protests. Boats were all tangled up or aground. Someone (the identity of the party was later established) had come in late, and “for fun” had pulled around the bay, carefully lifting up the anchors of the boats and hanging them on the sprit or bobstay. The dinghies made a brave line, a mile out in the bay, moored in a series with a borrowed pick. By breakfast time the serenity of life had been re-established and plans were discussed in many a boat for exacting vengeance. There* was often dancing of what tire now called “Old Time Dances” with concertina music, for the untiring gramophone had2not then arrived. When it did there used to be some great competition in securing records. One smart, lad. who acquired a pile of secondhand records, carefully cleaned them with methylated spirit and stood them in the sunshine to dry. He was aghast when he saw the symmetrical waves that they had adopted, but for many a night the record of nwsic could be heard in Drunken Bay. Talk in the boats when it was not about the best type of build, frequently turned on the exploits of smugglers in the Gtilf, for at that time these exploits of law-de-fying men were sufficiently recent for the main actors to be known to most. There was one story of a boat, suspected of smuggling, that had been followed to the Thames by the customs boat. The latter kept well back and the supposed smuggler did not hurry either About dark the Thames was made, and the smuggler got well up toward the wharf, and hung out his riding lights. The revenue cutter i rept in, but the keenest observation did not detect any movement of the lights. Apparently the watched boat was not berthing or going closer into the wharf. When daylight broke there was a riding light fast to a pole in the water, but no sign of the smuggler—he had done “business” with agents and slipped away. Then there was a saucy story of Maurice Kelly at the Wade. Maurice was king of the wilderness there. publican, gumbroker. farmer, suspected smuggler, and friend cf runaway man-o’-warsmen. Once the Customs Department had almost definite news that a consignment of liquor had reached Wade without having paid the lawful duty. The cutter was sent clown and landed near the hotel beach. The first man to welcome the officers of the law, as they stepped ashore, was Maurice. In genial brogue he \Y,ished them the “top o' the morning,” and kindly inquired after their errand.

Thev were Invited to sit on an oid overturned boat, and an hour or more was spent in dallying and swapping yarns. Betimes some of the officers made secret inquiries, but after several hours were forced to admit defeat. Later it was revealed that the liquor was hidden under the old boat on which they had been sitting. Then there was the story of th„ landing of contraband on the Noisies bv a boat inward bound from the Islands. The craft came up to Auckland wharf and the mate and crew got drunk. When the skipper remonstrated the mate got fighting mad and the skipper felled him with a handy billet of wood. In retaliation the mate “split” that the skipper had tobacco hidden in the fo’castle. This event hurried the departure of the boat from Auckland. When she got to the Noisies a quick effort was made to reload the landed contraband. The shore party came on a grisly scene. All the liquor barrels had been stove in, and near them was the lifeless body of the man who stayed to guard the goods. Who did it? Only the wheeling gulls could have answered.