Maori and Settler: A Story of The New Zealand War

"Yes, it might pay if they got a large flat-boat capable of carrying cargo; but as far as light goods, letters, and groceries from town are concerned, the Indians could do it cheaper in their canoes. However, at present there is no market for them to come down to. I keep what I call a grocery store for the benefit of the two or three score of settlers there are on the river. I do not make any profit out of the matter, but each season get a hogshead or two of sugar, a couple of tons of flour, some barrels of molasses, a few chests of tea, and an assortment of odds and ends, such as pickles, &c., with a certain amount of rum and whisky, and sell them at the price they stand me in at. I do not know what they would do without it here. I only open the store on the first Monday of each month, and they then lay in what stores they require, so it gives me very little trouble. I generally take produce in return. My bills run on until they get up to the value of something a customer wants to sell – a horse, or two or three dozen sheep. That suits me just as well as money, as I send a cargo off to Wellington every two or three months.

"In time no doubt a settlement will spring up somewhere near the mouth of the river, and we shall have a trader or two establishing themselves there; but at present I am the purveyor of the district, and manage most of the business of the settlers in the way of buying and selling at Wellington. So, you see, if you establish yourself here you will have no choice but to appoint me your grocer."

Wilfrid laughed. "It will be a great advantage to us to be able to get our things so close at hand. I was wondering how people did in the back settlements."

"They generally send their drays every two or three months down to the nearest store, which may, of course, be fifty miles off, or even more. Here, fortunately, you will not be obliged at first to have a dray, but can send any produce you have to sell down by water, which is a far cheaper and more convenient mode of carriage. You will not have much to send for some time, so that will not trouble you at present."

"Oh, no. We shall be quite content if we can live on the produce of our farm for the next year or two," Wilfrid laughed.

"It is," Mr. Mitford said, "an immense advantage to settlers when they have sufficient funds to carry them on for the first two or three years, because in that case they gain the natural increase of their animals instead of having to sell them off to pay their way. It is wonderful how a flock of sheep or a herd of cattle will increase if there is no selling. You may take it that under favourable circumstances a herd of cattle will nearly double itself every two years, allowing, of course, a large proportion of the bull calves to be sold off as soon as they arrive at maturity. Sheep will increase even faster. If you can do without selling, you will be surprised, if you start with say fifty sheep or ten cows, in how short a time you will have as many animals as your land will carry."

"But what are we to do then, sir?"

"Well, you will then, providing the country has not in the meantime become too thickly settled, pay some small sum to the natives for the right of grazing your cattle on their unoccupied ground. They cultivate a mere fraction of the land. In this way you can keep vastly larger herds than your own ground could carry. However, it is time to be turning in for the night. To-morrow we will start the first thing after breakfast to inspect Langston's land."

CHAPTER X

THE GLADE

When the party assembled at breakfast the next morning, Mr. Atherton's first question was:

"Is there such a thing as a boat or a good-sized canoe to be had, Mr. Mitford? If you had an elephant here I might manage, but as I suppose you do not keep such an animal in your stud I own that I should greatly prefer going by water to running the risk of breaking a horse's back and my own neck. If such a thing cannot be obtained I will get you, if you will, to let me have a native as guide, and I will walk, taking with me some small stock of provisions. I can sleep at this hut of Langston's, for I say frankly that I should not care about doing the distance there and back in one day."

"I have a boat," Mr. Mitford said smiling, "and you shall have a couple of natives to paddle you up. I will give orders for them to be ready directly after breakfast. You will scarcely be there as soon as we are, but you will be there long before we leave. Of course we shall spend some time in going over the ground, and we shall take a boy with us with a luncheon basket, so you will find refreshment awaiting you when you get there."

"That will suit me admirably." Mr. Atherton said. "A boating excursion up an unknown river is just the thing I like – that is, when the boat is a reasonable size. I was once fool enough on the Amazon to allow myself to be persuaded that a canoe at most two feet wide would carry me, and the tortures I suffered during that expedition, wedged in the bottom of that canoe, and holding on to the sides, I shall never forget. The rascally Indians made matters worse by occasionally giving sly lurches to the boat, and being within an ace of capsizing her. I had two days of that work before I got to a village where I could obtain a craft of reasonable size, and I should think I must have lost two stone in weight during the time. You think that that was rather an advantage I can see, Miss Mitford," he broke off, seeing a smile upon the girl's face. "Well, yes, I could spare that and more, but I should prefer that it was abstracted by other means than that of agony of mind; besides, these improvements are not permanent."

After a hearty breakfast the party prepared for their start. Mrs. Mitford had already said that she should not accompany them, the distance being longer than she cared to ride; and four horses were therefore brought round. Mr. Atherton was first seen fairly on his way in a good-sized boat, paddled by two powerful Maoris. Mr. Mitford, his daughters, and Wilfrid then mounted; the lad had already been asked if he was accustomed to riding.

"Not lately," he replied, "but I used to have a pony and rode a good deal when I was a small boy, and I daresay I can stick on."

Wilfrid was delighted with his ride through the forest. In his other trips ashore their way had led through an open country with low scrub bush, and this was his first experience of a New Zealand forest. Ferns were growing everywhere. The tree-ferns, coated with scales, rose from thirty to forty feet in the air. Hymenophylla and polypodia, in extraordinary variety, covered the trunks of the forest trees with luxuriant growth. Smaller ferns grew between the branches and twigs, and a thick growth of ferns of many species extended everywhere over the ground.

The trees were for the most part pines of different varieties, but differing so widely in appearance from those Wilfrid had seen in England, that had not Mr. Mitford assured him that they were really pines he would never have guessed they belonged to that family. Mr. Mitford gave him the native names of many of them. The totara matai were among the largest and most beautiful. The rimu was distinguished by its hanging leaves and branches, the tanekaha by its parsley-shaped leaves. Among them towered up the poplar-shaped rewarewa and the hinau, whose fruit Mr. Mitford said was the favourite food of the parrots.

Among the great forest trees were several belonging to the families of the myrtles and laurels, especially the rata, whose trunk often measured forty feet in circumference, and on whose crown were branches of scarlet blossoms. But it was to the ferns, the orchids, and the innumerable creepers, which covered the ground with a natural netting, coiled round every stem, and entwined themselves among the topmost branches, that the forest owed its peculiar features. Outside the narrow cleared track along which they were riding it would have been impossible for a man to make his way unless with the assistance of knife and hatchet, especially as some of the climbers were completely covered with thorns.

And yet, although so very beautiful, the appearance of the forest was sombre and melancholy. A great proportion of the plants of New Zealand bear no flowers, and except high up among some of the tree-tops no gay blossoms or colour of any kind meet the eye to relieve the monotony of the verdure. A deep silence reigned. Wilfrid did not see a butterfly during his ride, or hear the song or even the chirp of a single bird. It was a wilderness of tangled green, unrelieved by life or colour. Mr. Mitford could give him the names of only a few of the principal trees; and seeing the infinite variety of the foliage around him, Wilfrid no longer wondered Mr. Atherton should have made so long a journey in order to study the botany of the island, which is unique, for although many of the trees and shrubs can be found elsewhere, great numbers are entirely peculiar to the island.

"Are there any snakes?" Wilfrid asked.

"No; you can wander about without fear. There is only one poisonous creature in New Zealand, and that is found north of the port of Tauranga, forty or fifty miles from here. They say it exists only there and round Potaki, near Cook's Strait. It is a small black spider, with a red stripe on its back. The natives all say that its bite is poisonous. It will not, they say, cause death to a healthy person, though it will make him very ill; but there are instances of sickly persons being killed by it. Anyhow, the natives dread it very much. However, as the beast is confined to two small localities, you need not trouble about it. The thorns are the only enemies you have to dread as you make your way through the forest."

"That is a comfort, anyhow," Wilfrid said; "it would be a great nuisance to have to be always on the watch against snakes."

The road they were traversing had been cleared of trees from one settler's holding to another, and they stopped for a few minutes at three or four of the farmhouses. Some of these showed signs of comfort and prosperity, while one or two were mere log cabins.

"I suppose the people here have lately arrived?" Wilfrid remarked as they rode by one of these without stopping.

"They have been here upwards of two years," Mr. Mitford replied; "but the place is not likely to improve were they to be here another ten. They are a thriftless lazy lot, content to raise just sufficient for their actual wants and to pay for whisky. These are the sort of people who bring discredit on the colony by writing home declaring that there is no getting on here, and that a settler's life is worse than a dog's.

"People who come out with an idea that a colony is an easy place to get a living in are completely mistaken. For a man to succeed he must work harder and live harder here than he would do at home. He is up with the sun, and works until it is too dark to work longer. If he employs men he must himself set an example to them. Men will work here for a master who works himself, but one who thinks that he has only to pay his hands and can spend his time in riding about the country making visits, or in sitting quietly by his fire, will find that his hands will soon be as lazy as he is himself. Then the living here is rougher than it is at home for one in the same condition of life. The fare is necessarily monotonous. In hot weather meat will not keep more than a day or two, and a settler cannot afford to kill a sheep every day; therefore he has to depend either upon bacon or tinned meat, and I can tell you that a continuance of such fare palls upon the appetite, and one's meals cease to be a pleasure. But the curse of the country, as of all our colonies, is whisky. I do think the monotony of the food has something to do with it, and that if men could but get greater variety in their fare they would not have the same craving for drink. It is the ruin of thousands. A young fellow who lands here and determines to work hard and to abstain from liquors – I do not mean totally abstain, though if he has any inclination at all towards drink the only safety is total abstinence – is sure to get on and make his way, while the man who gives way to drink is equally certain to remain at the bottom of the tree. Now we are just passing the boundary of the holding you have come to see. You see that piece of bark slashed off the trunk of that tree? That is what we call a blaze, and marks the line of the boundary."

After riding a few minutes further the trees opened, and they found themselves in a glade sloping down to the river. A few acres of land had been ploughed up and put under cultivation. Close by stood the hut, and beyond a grassy sward, broken by a few large trees, stretched down to the river.

"That's the place," Mr. Mitford said, "and a very pretty one it is. Poor young Langston chose his farm specially for that bit of scenery."

"It is pretty," Wilfrid agreed; "I am sure my father and mother will be delighted with it. As you said, it is just like a piece of park land at home."

The hut was strongly built of logs. It was about thirty feet long by twenty wide, and was divided into two rooms; the one furnished as a kitchen and living-room, the other opening from it as a bed-room.

"There is not much furniture in it," Mr. Mitford said; "but what there is is strong and serviceable, and is a good deal better than the generality of things you will find in a new settler's hut. He was getting the things in gradually as he could afford them, so as to have it really comfortably furnished by the time she came out to join him. Of course the place will not be large enough for your party, but you can easily add to it; and at any rate it is vastly better coming to a shanty like this than arriving upon virgin ground and having everything to do."

"I think it is capital," Wilfrid said.

"Now we will take a ride over the ground, and I will show you what that is like. Of course it will give you more trouble clearing away the forest than it would do if you settled upon land without trees upon it. But forest land is generally the best when it is cleared; and I think that to people like your father and mother land like this is much preferable, as in making the clearings, clumps and belts of trees can be left, giving a home-like appearance to the place. Of course upon bare land you can plant trees, but it is a long time before these grow to a sufficient size to give a character to a homestead. Besides, as I told you, there are already several other natural clearings upon the ground, enough to afford grass for quite as many animals as you will probably start with."

After an hour's ride over the holding and the lands adjoining it, which Mr. Mitford advised should be also taken up, they returned to the hut. A shout greeted them as they arrived, and they saw Mr. Atherton walking up from the river towards the hut.

"A charming site for a mansion," he said as they rode up. "Mr. Mitford, I think I shall make you a bid for this on my own account, and so cut out my young friend Wilfrid."

"I am afraid you are too late," Mr. Mitford laughed. "I have already agreed to give him the option of it, keeping it open until we can receive a reply from his father."

"I call that too bad," Mr. Atherton grumbled. "However, I suppose I must move on farther. But really this seems a charming place, and I am sure Mrs. Renshaw will be delighted with it. Why, there must be thirty acres of natural clearing here?"

"About that," Mr. Mitford replied; "and there are two or three other patches which amount to about as much more. The other hundred and forty are bush and forest. The next lot has also some patches of open land, so that altogether out of the four hundred acres there must be about a hundred clear of bush."

"And how about the next lot, Mr. Mitford?"

"I fancy that there is about the same proportion of open land. I have only once been up the river higher than this, but if I remember right there is a sort of low bluff rising forty or fifty feet above the river which would form a capital site for a hut."

"I will set about the work of exploration this afternoon," Mr. Atherton said, "and if the next lot is anything like this I shall be very well contented to settle down upon it for a bit. I have always had a fancy for a sort of Robinson Crusoe life, and I think I can get it here, tempered by the change of an occasional visit to our friends when I get tired of my own company."

The men had by this time brought up the basket of provisions, and the two girls were spreading a cloth on the grass in the shade of a tree at a short distance from the hut, for all agreed that they would rather take their lunch there than in the abode so lately tenanted by young Langston. After the meal was over the party mounted their horses and rode back. One of the natives who had come up from the boat remained with Mr. Atherton, the others started back in the boat, as Mr. Atherton declared himself to be perfectly capable of making the journey on foot when he had finished his explorations. He returned two days later, and said he was quite satisfied with the proposed site for his hut and with the ground and forest.

"I regard myself as only a temporary inhabitant," he said, "and shall be well content if, when I am ready for another move, I can get as much for the ground as I gave for it. In that way I shall have lived rent free and shall have had my enjoyment for nothing, and, I have no doubt, a pleasant time to look back upon."

"Do you never mean to settle down, Mr. Atherton?" Mrs. Mitford asked.

"In the dim future I may do so," he replied. "I have been wandering ever since I left college, some fifteen years ago. I return to London periodically, spend a few weeks and occasionally a few months there, enjoy the comforts of good living and club-life for a bit; then the wandering fit seizes me and I am off again. Nature altogether made a mistake in my case. I ought to have been a thin wiry sort of man, and in that case I have no doubt I should have distinguished myself as an African explorer or something of that sort. Unfortunately she placed my restless spirit in an almost immovable frame of flesh, and the consequence is the circle of my wandering is to a certain extent limited."

"You make yourself out to be much stouter than you are, Mr. Atherton. Of course you are stout, but not altogether out of proportion to your height and width of shoulders. I think you put it on a good deal as an excuse for laziness."

Mr. Atherton laughed. "Perhaps you are right, Mrs. Mitford, though my weight is really a great drawback to my carrying out my views in regard to travel. You see, I am practically debarred from travelling in countries where the only means of locomotion is riding on horses. I could not find animals in any foreign country that would carry me for any distances. I might in England, I grant, find a weight-carrying cob capable of conveying twenty stone along a good road, but I might search all Asia in vain for such a horse, while as for Africa, it would take a dozen natives to carry me in a hammock. No, I suppose I shall go on wandering pretty nearly to the end of the chapter, and shall then settle down in quiet lodgings somewhere in the region of Pall Mall."

Upon the day after his return from the inspection of the farm Wilfrid wrote home to his father describing the location, and saying that he thought it was the very thing to suit them. It would be a fortnight before an answer could be received, and during that time he set to work at Mr. Mitford's place to acquire as much knowledge as possible of the methods of farming in the colony. The answer arrived in due course, and with it came the two Grimstones. Wilfrid had suggested in his letter that if his father decided to take the farm the two men should be sent up at once to assist in adding to the hut and in preparing for their coming, and that they should follow a fortnight later. Mrs. Mitford also wrote, offering them a warm invitation to stay for a time with her until their own place should be ready for their occupation.

Mr. Mitford had an inventory of the furniture of the hut, and this was also sent, in order that such further furniture as was needed might be purchased at Wellington. As soon as the letter was received, inclosing, as it did, a cheque for a hundred pounds, Wilfrid went over with the two Grimstones and took possession. Mr. Mitford, who was the magistrate and land commissioner for the district, drew up the papers of application for the plot of two hundred acres adjoining the farm, and sent it to Wellington for Mr. Renshaw's signature, and said that in the meantime Wilfrid could consider the land as belonging to them, as it would be theirs as soon as the necessary formalities were completed and the money paid.