HUNDRED YEARS AGO

Wairarapa Times-Age, 23 September 1938, Page 3

HUNDRED YEARS AGO

OUR OLDEST INDUSTRY HOW WHALING DEVELOPED MAORI AND PAKETIA. In September, 1838, while a late winter kept their boats ashore, the whalers established on the New Zealand coasts were busily preparing their equipment for the new season’s operations. At this time there were something like five hundred white men resident in the country to take part in this adventurous but still profitable trade. They had their stations from Preservation Inlet and Otago Harbour to as far North as the New Plymouth Sugar Loaves. The Bay of Islands, though a great resort of ocean-going whaling captains, was not itself a shore base for whaling till later. Not the least active stations were those scattered about Cook Strait—John Guard’s at Te Awaite, Bell’s at Mana Island, which he had stocked with sheep and cattle and where there was even tobacco grown, and four or five more round about Kapiti Island. Kapiti was such a favourite base that, besides one station on the Island itself, those diminutive specks, Tahoamaurea and Motungarara, as well as another neighbouring islet, Evans’s, had each their party of whalers resident. The whalers prepared for the perils and chances of the chase by repairing their boats, on which their safety as well as their livelihood depended. These boats were built for quick manoeuvring. both ends bow-shaped to facilitate backwatering when Leviathan lashed the water with ponderous fury; light and thin-skinned, they were easily damaged. Try-pots, those huge iron cauldrons for rendering down the whale’s blubber into oil, had to be set up somewhere near the water’s edge, often on sites specially excavated. The “spades,” razor-sharp knives on four foot handles, rather resembling modern slashers, which were used to cut up the blubber and dissect the whalebone, had to be whetted, and the all-impor-tant harpoons ground and sharpened. Then they needed a good supply of casks to take the oil. An expert cooper sailed on every whaler and was to be found at every whaling station ashore. He would have made or repaired scores of barrels to cope with a catch on a generously optimistic scale. It would have courted bad luck as surely as sailing on Friday 13 not to have plenty of casks ready for the oil that was still sporting innocently in the ocean. Not least in importance, lines had to be spliced to provide a rope 200 fathoms long for each boat. OLD-TIME WHALE CHASING It is a commonplace that it required courage of a high order to row up to a whale in a frail cockleshell and pierce its quaking mountainous flesh with a puny harpoon. It is sometimes overlooked that it required skill even more. The judgment of a good harpooner took care of his companions’ lives as well as the catching of whales. Whales, once firmly struck, went through all the antics of a hooked fish on a more dangerous scale. If they sounded, there was always a risk that the 200 fathom line might not be long enough. Then, unable to get rid of its assailant by plunging to the ocean depths, the harpooned whale would make foi- the horizon with all the speed its wounded condition allowed. Whalers, who had already rowed four or five miles out to sight their quarry, now had the disheartening prospect of an even longer row home. The whale that was towing them, they would in turn have to tow all the way back to land when they had killed it. The oarsmen now hauled up nearer to the whale hand over hand, until, when it had wearied and weakened enough, it Was safe to finish its agony with an adroit thrust of the unbarbed steel lance. The death flurry of the mighty creature was a terrible and hazardous climax to the most exciting form of hunting the world has ever known (if one excepts seal-hunting from an Eskimo kayak). It thrashed the water with its tail—unless the hunters had got near enough to cut its back sinews—and filled sea and air with its blood. AN INTERNATIONAL FOOTING.

Whaling in 1838 on the New Zealand coast was on a truly international footing. American, French, English and Australian ships jostled each other in none too courteous competition for a fluctuating supply of Right or Sperm whales. Ships had the advantage over shore stations, because the quality of the oil from a whale that had been "tried out” immediately after killing was superior to that from carcases towed for weary hours by a couple of small boats. A ship had its try-pots aboard, and the whole crew would turn to and keep at work until the whole carcase had been rendered down and safely casked, an operation that averaged about forty hours. The shore station had the advantages of smaller capital requirements and a more comfortable life ashore. All ships, of course, had plentiful intercourse with the shore, welcoming the chance of fresh food after the long voyage out. If there was fierce competition in Now Zealand’s first organised industry, there was also at times sincere cooperation. Overseas ships especially enlisted the services of white beachcombers to act as go-betweens in traffic with the Maoris. These men were called, “tonguers” not because they interpreted. but because they usually received the whale’s tongue as part of their fee. Ships often “mated” together, pooling their resources in pursuit of the elusive whales. Hempieman, the* famous Peraki whaler, actually mated with French ships. In Cook Strait some enterprising Maoris had developed a curious branch of the industry: they harpooned, but did not kill, whales and then sold their catches to the Cloudy Bay whalers for as much as £2O. Maoris were constantly employed by the whalers. Naturally the contact of (wo races with such different cultures did not take place without friction. The marvellous goods of the white man were a source of continuous wonder, , delight and cupidity to the Maoris. But these eminently reasonable men soon

realised that it was easier to acquire them by working for the rough but straightforward whaling skippers than by raiding their settlements. Even in those days the tribes desired foreign credits to purchase armaments. Work for the white man as sailor, blubber cutter or supplier of food could be paid for in muskets. The white man for his part, though he regarded the natives as treacherous, found it paid him to keep on good terms with his Maori neighbours and behaved himself, submitting even to demands for tribute or rent of sites occupied. Moreover, he frequently became the son-in-law of his hosts.