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<hi rend="b">1990</hi>
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<hi rend="b">Derek Cordes, President</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-front1-d4-pb1">
<hi rend="b">2</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>
<ref target="#t1-body1-d1-pb1">
<hi rend="b">
<hi rend="c">Nelson and Marlborough Oyster History</hi>
</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d1-pb1">
<hi rend="b">Ken Wright</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d1-pb1">
<hi rend="b">3</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>
<ref target="#t1-body1-d2">
<hi rend="b">
<hi rend="c">Bullock Teams</hi>
</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d2">
<hi rend="b">Jeff Newport</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d2">
<hi rend="b">8</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>
<ref target="#t1-body1-d3-pb1">
<hi rend="b">
<hi rend="c">Beefing about Bullocks</hi>
</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d3-pb1">
<hi rend="b">Jack Andrews</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d3-pb1">
<hi rend="b">9</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>
<ref target="#t1-body1-d4-pb1">
<hi rend="b">
<hi rend="c">Francis Dillon Bell: His Early Life</hi>
</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d4-pb1">
<hi rend="b">Elisabeth Airey</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d4-pb1">
<hi rend="b">12</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>
<ref target="#t1-body1-d5-pb1">
<hi rend="b">
<hi rend="c">Pioneers of Port Underwood</hi>
</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d5-pb1">
<hi rend="b">Joyce Thompson</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d5-pb1">
<hi rend="b">17</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>
<ref target="#t1-body1-d6-pb1">
<hi rend="b">
<hi rend="c">Childhood Memories of Sleepy Hollow</hi>
</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d6-pb1">
<hi rend="b">Aubrey Spear</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d6-pb1">
<hi rend="b">21</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>
<ref target="#t1-body1-d7-pb1">
<hi rend="b">
<hi rend="c">Courageous Coastal Captain</hi>
</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d7-pb1">
<hi rend="b">Jack Andrews</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d7-pb1">
<hi rend="b">27</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>
<ref target="#t1-body1-d8-pb1">
<hi rend="b">
<hi rend="c">Country Living in the 1920s</hi>
</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d8-pb1">
<hi rend="b">Jeff Newport</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d8-pb1">
<hi rend="b">29</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>
<ref target="#t1-body1-d9-pb1">
<hi rend="b">
<hi rend="c">Nelson Society as Shown in Presbyterian Marriage Registers</hi>
</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d9-pb1">
<hi rend="b">Helen Whelan</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d9-pb1">
<hi rend="b">34</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>
<ref target="#t1-body1-d10-pb1">
<hi rend="b">
<hi rend="c">Henry Handyside</hi>
</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d10-pb1">
<hi rend="b">Margaret Brown</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d10-pb1">
<hi rend="b">36</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>
<ref target="#t1-body1-d11-pb1">
<hi rend="b">
<hi rend="c">Gold Rush in Waiwhero</hi>
</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d11-pb1">
<hi rend="b">Helen Whelan</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d11-pb1">
<hi rend="b">39</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>
<ref target="#t1-body1-d12-pb1">
<hi rend="b">
<hi rend="c">Book Review</hi>
</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d12-pb1">
<hi rend="b">Mike Johnston</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d12-pb1">
<hi rend="b">41</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>
<ref target="#t1-body1-d13-pb1">
<hi rend="b">
<hi rend="c">Correction</hi>
</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
<cell/>
<cell rend="right">
<ref target="#t1-body1-d13-pb1">
<hi rend="b">43</hi>
</ref>
</cell>
</row>
</table>
<p>ISSN 0111-8773</p>
<p>Cover: George Mercer's Auckland Oyster Saloon, Bridge Street, 1890. Maguire Collection. Nelson Provincial Museum.</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-front1-d4" type="foreword">
<pb xml:id="t1-front1-d4-pb1" n="2" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0004_002"/>
<head>
<hi rend="c">Foreword</hi>
</head>
<p>I think it is a very opportune time, as President of the Marlborough Historical Society Inc, to be asked by the Editor to write the foreword for the 1990 joint Journal. This year has seen many hectic years of planning and hard work come to an end, with the opening of an Archives and Museum Centreat Brayshaw Museum Park in Blenheim, by His Excellency The Governor General, Sir Paul Reeves. This is a landmark which is the most significant event in the entire history of the Society. This project, which I have been proud to have played a part in, is a building which, I believe, will help to preserve Marlborough's historical heritage well into the next decade. More on the opening ceremony and the building in the next issue of the Journal.</p>
<p>I think one must marvel at how members of historical societies, throughout New Zealand, contribute in so many dedicated, diverse ways to preserve and conserve our historical heritage. Without these dedicated members, mostly working completely voluntarily, I believe a lot of our historical heritage would be lost which, in turn, would create a void in our human past</p>
<p>Over the last few years I have been pleased to have seen a more close relationship develop between our two societies and I hope this will continue. I think this year's Journal again is a credit to the Editor, Dawn Smith, and I think she is doing a tremendous job at this task. I hope that people contemplating writing an article for next year's Journal start thinking about it now, as I know Dawn would appreciate receiving them early. I must also make mention of the printers, Anchor Press, and the magnificent job they do in printing this Journal. To all contributors of articles, many thanks and please keep up the good work as, without your in-depth research on these articles, we cannot expect to keep the high standard of this annual historical publication.</p>
<closer>
<signed>Derek Cordes</signed>
<salute>President, Marlborough Historical Society</salute>
</closer>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-front1-d5" type="imprint">
<p>Published by</p>
<p>Nelson Historical Society Incorporated</p>
<p>PO Box 461</p>
<p>Nelson</p>
<p>Copyright: Permission to reprint any part of the Journal should be obtained from the Committee of the Nelson Historical Society and the source of any such reprint should be acknowledged.</p>
<p>We are grateful to the Nelson Provincial Museum and contributors for making photographs available.</p>
<p>Measurements: 1 mile = 1.6 kilometres; 1 acre = 0.4 hectares; 1 pound = 0.4 kilogram. At the time of conversion £1 = S2.00.</p>
<p>Printed by Anchor Press, Nelson.</p>
</div>
</front>
<body xml:id="t1-body1">
<div decls="#text-1-bibl" xml:id="t1-body1-d1" type="chapter">
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d1-pb1" n="3" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0005_003"/>
<head>
<hi rend="c">
<title level="a">
<name key="name-444311" type="work">Nelson and Marlborough Oyster History</name>
</title>
</hi>
</head>
<byline>by <name key="name-443451" type="person">Ken Wright</name>
</byline>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d1-d1" type="section" n="Nelson and Marlborough Oyster History">
<p>Traditionally, nothing conjures up more delight to the palate than the succulent taste of the oyster, and of course one musn't forget their assumed aphrodisiac properties, as an after dinner benefit. Oysters have also been immortalised in literature, 'The world is my oyster", a famous quote by William Shakespeare. But one piece of New Zealand's oyster story has been forgotten. Oysters were first harvested and traded in the Nelson and Marlborough area, with great relish, as early as the 1850's.</p>
<p>Most people identify with Foveaux Strait or Stewart Island oysters. Only since the 1960's, with the rediscovery of Tasman Bay oysters, have local oysters returned to prominence in our minds.</p>
<p>Somewhere along the course of history, the existence, from early times, of oysters in the top of the South Island was forgotten. In fact, oysters played such an important part in the early market place that special shops, known as 'oyster saloons', were of prominence in Nelson from 1858 until 1907.</p>
<p>So, to retrace our local oysters, let us go back to the very start.</p>
<p>Oysters occur, fossilized, in the limestone rocks of Tata Island, off the Abel Tasman coast. Today, there are three species of oysters in New Zealand: two native oysters, known as the 'dredge oyster' and the 'rock oyster', plus the recently introduced 'Pacific Oyster', which arrived here in the 1970's and subsequently spread widely over New Zealand.</p>
<p>The rock oyster occurs naturally on both coasts in the top half of the North Island. Confusion does exist, in that rock oysters only attach themselves to rocks, or mangrove tree roots, while dredge oysters, which normally live on the surface of mud, will also attach themselves to rocks. So, in some cases, reference has been made to rock oysters in the South Island, but these are, in fact, dredge oysters.</p>
<p>In a few sites, the earliest inhabitants of Tasman Bay and the Marlborough Sounds have left behind, amongst their midden (food refuse tips), discarded oyster shells<ref target="#bibl1">
<hi rend="sup">(1)</hi>
</ref>. The evidence, deposited well before European arrival, indicates that the Maori collected oysters in selected sites and ate them locally.</p>
<p>
<figure xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0005_003a">
<graphic url="NHSJ05_04_0005_003a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0005_003a-g"/>
<head>Oyster placenames in Nelson and Marlborough.</head>
</figure>
</p>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d1-d1-pb1" n="4" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0006_004"/>
<p>
<figure xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0006_004a">
<graphic url="NHSJ05_04_0006_004a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0006_004a-g"/>
<head>Andrew Andersen's Nelson Oyster Saloon, now 75 Bridge Street. 1902. Tyree Collection. Nelson Provincial Museum.</head>
</figure>
</p>
<p>The Maori name for oyster is Tio, and at the head of Tory Channel is a bay known as Te Tio. In 1838, Captain Chetwode sailed into this bay and, upon discovering the oysters, re-named it Oyster Bay, as it is known today<ref target="#bibl2">
<hi rend="sup">(2)</hi>
</ref>.</p>
<p>In the New Zealand official place name register, there are twelve place names featuring oyster, with six of them in the top of the South Island. There are three oyster bays: one in Tory Channel, one in Port Underwood and the other in Croisilles Harbour. There is an Oyster Island in the Waimea Inlet, an Oyster Point in Wanganui Inlet and an Oyster Stream in the headwaters of the Acheron River. Now tell me that there wasn't an early preoccupation with oysters in our area!</p>
<p>European settlers were familiar with oysters, as they were harvested off the coast of Great Britain, France and in the Mediterranean. One such settler, John Waring Saxton, a gentleman who was most certainly used to the finer tastes of life, was both an astute recorder of the day, as the Saxton Diaries testify, and a fanatical gourmand, who seldom missed the chance to comment on food. In his 1849 Diary, he mentions collecting oysters from Oyster Island and, upon his return to a friend's home, a magnificent oyster supper being prepared that evening<ref target="#bibl3">
<hi rend="sup">(3)</hi>
</ref>. Incidentally Oyster Island, which is still known by that name, was once called Grossi's Island. From 1878 until their home was burntout in 1885, Biaggio Grossi, an Austrian fisherman and oyster dealer, lived on this island with his large family.</p>
<p>The Nelson Examiner newspaper of 1845 lists oysters, on the Nelson retail market price list, at nine pence per hundred. The same paper, in 1859, announced that J Mead of Bridge Street, opposite the Trafalgar Hotel, had a large quantity of fine quality oysters for sale<ref target="#bibl4">
<hi rend="sup">(4)</hi>
</ref>. This was the start of the Nelson Oyster Saloons.</p>
<p>Oyster saloons, today's mystery, were dining rooms which offered oysters for sale in every possible form: in the shell, raw, tinned, bottled, cooked in every conceivable way from soup, stewed, escalloped to fried etc. These saloons also sold fish of every type and, occasionally .rabbits, hares and poultry.</p>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d1-d1-pb2" n="5" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0007_005"/>
<p>Many of the saloons retained the same locations for fifty years and were occupied by successive oyster dealers. One such location in Nelson is at 75 Bridge Street, near the north-eastern corner of the Bridge Street-Trafalgar Street intersection. The former 'Cafe 75', in Bridge Street, was once an oyster saloon and is probably the only remains of such a shop.</p>
<p>It was popular to frequent oyster saloons in the evening, and newspaper advertising invited customers to try delicious oyster suppers.</p>
<p>Fresh oysters every day was the normal promotion line for oyster saloons. This was achieved by using storage beds inside the Nelson harbour. They would load these up and collect quantities, as required, for each day. In 1902, there was a big scare in Nelson when typhoid broke out. All the saloons made it known that they had moved their beds to outside the boulder bank, to retain fresh clean oysters.<ref target="#bibl5">
<hi rend="sup">(5)</hi>
</ref>
</p>
<p>These saloons weren't confined to Nelson. They also occurred in Blenheim, Picton, Westport, Greymouth and Hokitika.</p>
<p>Gradually, the oyster saloon title was superseded by a succession of trend-setting titles. They went like this: oyster and supper rooms, supper rooms, dining rooms, cafe and, finally, the fish supply – cum – fish and chip shop that we all know.</p>
<p>So where did they get their oysters? New Zealand oyster history invariably quotes the industry starting at Stewart Island in approximately 1860, while our own oyster dealers were up and trading at least the year before.</p>
<p>In 1859, a Wellington newspaper described an excursion to Queen Charlotte Sound and quotes, "the oysters which furnish our citizens with many a supper are dredged in the sound"<ref target="#bibl6">
<hi rend="sup">(6)</hi>
</ref>.</p>
<p>
<figure xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0007_005a">
<graphic url="NHSJ05_04_0007_005a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0007_005a-g"/>
</figure>
</p>
<p>When Nelson settlers first examined the Marlborough Sounds, during exploratory trips, they mentioned oysters<ref target="#bibl7">
<hi rend="sup">(7)</hi>
</ref> and, in one instance, being given oysters at the Te Awaiti whaling station in 1845<ref target="#bibl8">
<hi rend="sup">(8)</hi>
</ref>. So they had local oyster beds in the Marlborough Sounds and Waimea Inlet.</p>
<p>Local traders also imported oysters. In 1858, fifteen boxes of oysters were imported, via a sixteen day journey from Sydney<ref target="#bibl9">
<hi rend="sup">(9)</hi>
</ref>. Oysters continued to be imported to Nelson from Sydney and Melbourne until 1867, when Australia was forced to ban exports, due to dwindling supplies. From 1858 until 1909, rock oysters were imported from the Manukau harbour. These were named 'Auckland Rocks' and were considered sweeter than the local, coppery tasting, oysters<ref target="#bibl10">
<hi rend="sup">(10)</hi>
</ref>.</p>
<p>The earliest evidence found of Stewart Island oysters being imported was 1877<ref target="#bibl11">
<hi rend="sup">(11)</hi>
</ref>, however, as our local supplies dwindled in the 1910 to 1915 period, Foveaux Strait oysters became our only supply until the 1960's.</p>
<p>Early local oyster beds were located at Port Underwood<ref target="#bibl12">
<hi rend="sup">(12)</hi>
</ref>, Queen Charlotte Sound, Endeavour Inlet, Pelorus Sound<ref target="#bibl13">
<hi rend="sup">(13)</hi>
</ref>, Forsyth Island<ref target="#bibl14">
<hi rend="sup">(14)</hi>
</ref>, New Harbour (Port Hardy, D'Urville Island)<ref target="#bibl15">
<hi rend="sup">(15)</hi>
</ref>, <pb xml:id="t1-body1-d1-d1-x26-pb1" n="6" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0008_006"/>Croisilles Harbour<ref target="#bibl16">
<hi rend="sup">(16)</hi>
</ref>, Port Nelson<ref target="#bibl17">
<hi rend="sup">(17)</hi>
</ref>, Waimea Inlet<ref target="#bibl18">
<hi rend="sup">(18)</hi>
</ref>, Abel Tasman Coast<ref target="#bibl19">
<hi rend="sup">(19)</hi>
</ref> and Golden Bay<ref target="#bibl20">
<hi rend="sup">(20)</hi>
</ref>.</p>
<p>As well as supplying local markets, oysters were exported to the West Coast<ref target="#bibl21">
<hi rend="sup">(21)</hi>
</ref>, especially during the gold rush years, Taranaki<ref target="#bibl22">
<hi rend="sup">(22)</hi>
</ref> and Wellington.</p>
<p>In the early years, oysters were harvested and sold without any control.</p>
<p>However, as had been experienced in England and Australia, oyster fisheries were being destroyed by over fishing. It was therefore not surprising that, in 1865, the Right Honourable Mr Sewell moved that parliament set up a select committee, to consider the protection of the fisheries of New Zealand, especially oyster and herring fisheries<ref target="#bibl23">
<hi rend="sup">(23)</hi>
</ref>.</p>
<p>In October 1866, the government passed the first ever law to protect the fisheries of New Zealand, called The Oyster Fisheries Act 1866.</p>
<p>The all too familiar saga of today's fishing industry including licences, seasons etc. to prevent depletion of the resource, was started over one hundred and twenty four years ago, with the introduction of this Act</p>
<p>The Act made provisions for a licence fee of two shillings and sixpence, a season from April to October and the ability to form artificial oyster beds. Only dredge oysters were covered by the Act.</p>
<p>A regular succession of acts followed, with a gradual attempt to close loopholes that were discovered, and rock oysters were soon included in new legislation<ref target="#bibl24">
<hi rend="sup">(24)</hi>
</ref>.</p>
<p>In 1869<ref target="#bibl25">
<hi rend="sup">(25)</hi>
</ref>, provision was made for individuals to obtain exclusive rights to natural beds and, in 1873, William Williams and E. Davidson separately advertised their intentions to seek exclusive rights to beds off Puponga, Golden Bay<ref target="#bibl26">
<hi rend="sup">(26)</hi>
</ref>. This legislation was further changed to close the bed for six months, to prevent it being stripped, while exclusive rights were sought<ref target="#bibl27">
<hi rend="sup">(27)</hi>
</ref>. Such closures were sought in 1894, for beds three miles off Cape Campbell (Cloudy Bay)<ref target="#bibl28">
<hi rend="sup">(28)</hi>
</ref>, and 1903, for Anakoa Bay (Outer Sounds)<ref target="#bibl29">
<hi rend="sup">(29)</hi>
</ref>
</p>
<p>The new laws were occasionally broken in the rush to meet the market on season opening day. In 1871, a local fisherman, James Stringer, collected oysters from the Waimea River six days before opening day. He was approached, near the Custom House wharf, by Police Sergeant Nash, who discovered Stringer's sack of oysters. They returned to Stringer's boat where more sacks were observed. Stringer knocked Sergeant Nash into the tide and rowed off towards the beach, with his boatful of oysters. A constable was summoned to follow Stringer's progress from land and he observed him dumping the sacks. These were recovered at low tide as evidence, and tasty evidence at that James Stringer was fined five pounds and warned that, if he broke the law again, he would lose his licence for three years<ref target="#bibl30">
<hi rend="sup">(30)</hi>
</ref>.</p>
<p>Several people took up the opportunity to form artificial oyster beds between 1895 and 1898<ref target="#bibl31">
<hi rend="sup">(31)</hi>
</ref>. They were: Henry Baxter and William Davenport – Arrowsmith Bay, Tory Channel; Alexander Maule – Black Point, Pelorus Sound; Peter Ewing – Hitaua Bay, Tory Channel; Percy Neame-Mahau, Pelorus Sound; E O'Hara Canavan – Motueka. Most of these people never got started, but the ones that did weren't successful. Experimentation in farming continued between 1904 and 1920, including attempts to seed oysters in Cook Strait. In 1918, for example, 80 sacks of Foveaux Strait oysters were seeded in Cook Strait, at Clifford Bay near Blenheim<ref target="#bibl32">
<hi rend="sup">(32)</hi>
</ref>. In 1922, an attempt was made to plant rock oysters in the Marlborough Sounds<ref target="#bibl33">
<hi rend="sup">(33)</hi>
</ref>. Despite initial signs of promise, all these attempts ultimately failed.</p>
<p>Legal provision was made to close natural beds, to allow them to recover. The first beds to be closed were, in 1872, at Stewart Island. Our beds were also closed. Oyster Bay, in Tory Channel, was closed for two years in 1882 while, in 1895, parts of Queen Charlotte Sound and Endeavour Inlet were closed for four years. The Waimea Inlet was closed, initially for two years, in 1886 and later, in 1911, for four years, including Nelson Haven. Parts of Pelorus Sound were closed in 1898.</p>
<p>Even with attempts to create artificial beds and spell other beds, the decline in oysters continued. Other catastrophies may also have contributed to this decline. Periodically our sea is plagued with a phytoplankton bloom, referred to as 'slime', (first recorded in Tasman Bay in the 1860's) which <pb xml:id="t1-body1-d1-d1-x38-pb1" n="7" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0009_007"/>suffocates fish and shellfish. The great slime of 1901 was observed, by a fisherman named Westrup, to have seriously destroyed oyster beds in Golden Bay<ref target="#bibl34">
<hi rend="sup">(34)</hi>
</ref>.</p>
<p>Over the years of gradual depletion, some of the beds disappeared completely, while some still exist today, with small quantities of oysters.</p>
<p>In 1900, the Marine Department initiated an experimental trawling, throughout New Zealand, with the steam trawler Doto, to assess the potential of our inshore fisheries. In Tasman Bay, they encountered the most plentiful supply of fish in the entire voyage, and noted considerable numbers of oysters<ref target="#bibl35">
<hi rend="sup">(35)</hi>
</ref>. Perhaps these newly discovered oyster beds were also over exploited, and didn't recover until their rediscovery in the 1960's. The Tasman Bay beds continue to support a dredge oyster industry that is second only to Foveaux Strait.</p>
<p>Over the years, the oyster season has periodically changed by a month or two but, as with all seasonal foods, we fondly await the opening day. In fact, seasonal food provides some expectation in an otherwise mundane diet.</p>
<p>Pacific oysters, which were first discovered in Pelorus Sound in 1977, have spread widely throughout Nelson and Marlborough. In 1981, local MAF scientists predicted that it was possible to start farming these oysters in our region<ref target="#bibl36">
<hi rend="sup">(36)</hi>
</ref>.</p>
<p>Last year the first applications, followed by more this year, have been lodged to set up Pacific oyster farms at Uruti Bay (Port Underwood), Ohinetaha Bay and Okiwi Bay. Better results are expected with the use of the new vigorous Pacific Oyster, rather than our own native oysters.</p>
<p>With our mussel farms and scallop enhancement already proven, the Pacific Oyster farms may really promote the top of the south as a seafood gourmet's paradise. Who knows, once again there might just be a niche for seafood saloons.</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d1-d2" type="references">
<head>References</head>
<listBibl>
<bibl n="(1)" xml:id="bibl1">
<title>Motueka An Archaeological Survey</title> <author>
<name type="person">Aidan J Challis</name>
</author> 1978 <biblScope>P25 P87</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(2)" xml:id="bibl2">
<title>Marlborough Place Names</title> <author>
<name type="person">H.A.H. Insull</name>
</author> 1952 <biblScope>P54</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(3)" xml:id="bibl3">
<title>Saxton Diary</title> 1849 (IV) <biblScope>P103</biblScope> 20 September <pubPlace>Nelson Provincial Museum</pubPlace>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(4)" xml:id="bibl4">
<title>Nelson Examiner</title> <date when="1859-05-11">11 May 1859</date>
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<bibl n="(5)" xml:id="bibl5">
<title>Nelson Evening Mail</title> <date when="1902-05-19">19 May 1902</date>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(6)" xml:id="bibl6">
<title>Colonist</title> <date when="1859-01-28">28 January 1859</date>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(7)" xml:id="bibl7">
<title>Nelson Examiner</title> <date when="1855-01-06">6 January 1855</date> <title>Sailing Directions Pelorus Estuary</title>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(8)" xml:id="bibl8">
<title>Nelson Examiner</title> <date when="1845-03-29">29 March 1845</date>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(9)" xml:id="bibl9">Colonist <date when="1858-01-05">5 January 1858</date> <title>Shipping Intelligence</title>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(10)" xml:id="bibl10">
<title>Nelson Evening Mail</title> <biblScope>P2</biblScope> <date when="1880-04-08">8 April 1880</date> <hi rend="u">Epicures</hi>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(11)" xml:id="bibl11">
<title>Nelson Evening Mail</title> <date when="1877-05-12">12 May 1877</date> <title>Advertisement Antonio Bogden</title>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(12)" xml:id="bibl12">
<title>Colonist</title> <date when="1869-05-18">18 May 1869</date> <title>Imports</title>
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<title>Colonist</title> <date when="1862-05-30">30 May 1862</date> <title>Advertisement Charles Harris</title>
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<bibl n="(14)" xml:id="bibl14">
<title>Nelson Examiner</title> <date when="1864-11-05">5 November 1864</date> <title>Imports</title>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(15)" xml:id="bibl15">
<title>Nelson Evening Mail</title> <date when="1880-04-27">27 April 1880</date> <title>Advertisement Story of New Zealand's French Pass and D'Urville Island Olive Baldwin 1979 Book One</title> <biblScope>P140</biblScope> Map <biblScope>P165</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(16)" xml:id="bibl16">
<title>Nelson Examiner</title> <date when="1863-11-05">5 November 1863</date> <title>Imports</title>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(17)" xml:id="bibl17">
<title>Nelson Examiner</title> <date when="1859-09-24">24 September 1859</date> <biblScope>P4</biblScope> <title>Advertisement</title>
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<bibl n="(18)" xml:id="bibl18">
<title>Nelson Evening Mail</title> <date when="1868-04-02">2 April 1868</date> <biblScope>P2</biblScope> <title>Resident Magistrates Court</title>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(19)" xml:id="bibl19">
<title>Colonist</title> <date when="1888-02-22">22 February 1888</date> <title>Resident Magistrates Court</title>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(20)" xml:id="bibl20">
<title>Nelson Evening Mail</title> <date when="1889-02-16">16 February 1889</date> <title>Advertisement</title>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(21)" xml:id="bibl21">
<title>Nelson Examiner</title> <date when="1865-01-31">31 January 1865</date> <title>Exports</title>
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<bibl n="(22)" xml:id="bibl22">
<title>Colonist</title> <date when="1867-06-18">18 June 1867</date> <title>Exports</title>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(23)" xml:id="bibl23">
<title>New Zealand Parliamentary Debates</title> <date when="1865-08-18">18 August 1865</date> <biblScope>P326</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(24)" xml:id="bibl24">
<title>The Oyster Fisheries Amendment Act 1874</title> <date when="1874-08-31">31 August 1874</date>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(25)" xml:id="bibl25">
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d1-d2-x2-x25-pb1" n="8" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0010_008"/>
<title>The Oyster Fisheries Amendment Act 1869</title> <date when="1869-09-03">3 September 1869</date>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(26)" xml:id="bibl26">
<note xml:id="note-0002">
<bibl>
<title>Colonist</title> <date when="1873-04-04">4 April 1873</date> Advertisement</bibl>
<bibl>
<title>Nelson Evening Mail</title> <date when="1873-04-03">3 April 1873</date> <title>Advertisement</title>
</bibl>
</note>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(27)" xml:id="bibl27">
<title>The Sea Fisheries Act 1894</title> <date when="1894-10-23">23 October 1894</date>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(28)" xml:id="bibl28">
<title>New Zealand Gazette</title> <biblScope>P1772</biblScope> 1894</bibl>
<bibl n="(29)" xml:id="bibl29">
<title>New Zealand Gazette</title> <biblScope>P1038</biblScope> 1903</bibl>
<bibl n="(30)" xml:id="bibl30">
<title>Nelson Evening Mail</title> <date when="1871-03-25">25</date> and <date when="1871-03-27">27 March 1871</date>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(31)" xml:id="bibl31">
<note xml:id="note-0003">
<bibl>
<title>AJHR</title> 1894 <biblScope>H-18</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl>
<title>AJHR</title> 1896 <biblScope>H-15 P3</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl>
<title>AJHR</title> 1897 <biblScope>H-15 P3-4</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl>
<title>AJHR</title> 1898 <biblScope>H-15 P2-3</biblScope>
</bibl>
</note>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(32)" xml:id="bibl32">
<note xml:id="note-0004">
<bibl>
<title>New Zealand Official Year Book 1919</title> <biblScope>P573</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl>
<title>Ministry of Transport Register HO</title> Volume 2 Plan No 5028 "Foveaux Strait Oysters in Cook Strait". Plan showing locality (White Bluff – Clifford Bay) 10.3. 1919.</bibl>
</note>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(33)" xml:id="bibl33">
<title>New Zealand Official Year Book</title> 1921–22 <biblScope>P361</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(34)" xml:id="bibl34">
<title>Colonist</title> <date when="1901-02-13">13 February 1901</date>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(35)" xml:id="bibl35">
<title>Colonist</title> <date when="1900-05-25">25 May 1900</date>
</bibl>
<bibl n="(36)" xml:id="bibl36">
<title>Nelson Evening Mail</title> <date when="1981-11-28">28 November 1981</date>
</bibl>
</listBibl>
</div>
</div>
<div decls="#text-2-bibl" xml:id="t1-body1-d2" type="chapter">
<head>
<hi rend="c">
<title level="a">
<name key="name-444312" type="work">Bullock Teams</name>
</title>
</hi>
</head>
<byline>
<name key="name-443315" type="person">Jeff Newport</name>
</byline>
<p>It may be of note to remember that bullock waggons were used a great deal to provide transport in the more remote, roadless parts of our country, and one area where these teams really came into their own was in the McKcnzie country of Canterbury.</p>
<p>Two books which give some scraps of information about this phase of development there were written by Evelyn Hoskyn – Life on a Five Pound Note (1964) and Turn Back the Clock (1968).</p>
<p>Possibly bullock teams were not so usual by then but, when she was writing, some of the old tracks at river crossings were still visible. She looked up various old bullockies and said "The bullocks and their ways fascinated me and I loved to watch them pulling their heavy loads – no hurry, no bustle, a way all their own".</p>
<p>Illustrations used show teams of seven pairs and eight pairs of bullocks. One shows forty-two bullocks – three waggons and teams – moving seventy-eight bales of wool from Benmore station about 1890. She also mentions a team of fourteen pairs of bullocks, pulling a wool waggon, being loaded on to a river ferry. The bullocks were always hitched together in pairs.</p>
<p>The working bullocks required shoes on their feet and Mrs Hoskyn stated: "There was a blacksmith permanently employed at Pukaki, who would shoe bullocks as well as horses. The bullock would be thrown, its legs tied together, and the shoes fitted and tacked on. Sometimes they were made from cut-down horseshoes. One bullock in particular, which was more of a pet, would roll over and enjoy being shod".</p>
</div>
<div decls="#text-3-bibl" xml:id="t1-body1-d3" type="chapter">
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d3-pb1" n="9" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0011_009"/>
<head>
<hi rend="c">
<title level="a">
<name key="name-444313" type="work">Beefing About Bullocks</name>
</title>
</hi>
</head>
<byline>
<name key="name-444300" type="person">Jack Andrews</name>
</byline>
<p>Following my 1989 article on river transport in Marlborough, I think we should now look at the next important step in moving goods, people, and material, when opening up a new country.</p>
<p>History has treated the bullock, they were never called oxen in New Zealand, shabbily. The importance of the bullock has been eclipsed by the glamour of the faster, temperamental horse.</p>
<p>This is just not fair, because really the bullock has been worth so much more than they have been given credit for.</p>
<p>In old England, the transition from bullocks to horses as working animals helped to establish town sites. The greater speed of the horse enabled the men to go back to a common camping ground at night, instead of remaining at their workplace. However, in New Zealand, many of our towns were placed at the distance of a bullock's journey for the day, so the bullock was responsible for the siting of New Zealand towns. They are about twelve miles apart on the average.</p>
<p>One of the first records of bullocks being used in New Zealand was 1820, in the North Island, when the Rev. Butler showed the Maoris how to use a plough. Of course we know Samuel Mardsden brought a bull and two cows to the Bay of Islands in 1814. By 1838 we read of quite a number of bullock teams working in the North.</p>
<p>Cattle were landed on Mana in 1833 and, in 1840, Unwin &amp; Co's cattle prowled at large in the Wairau. Not long after, we read of Nelson settlers with their bullocks. Buick, in Old Marlborough, writes of bullock drivers grogging up at Wynen's, on the Wairau Bar, in 1849. There are, however, several references to Bill Attwood's team as being the first in Blenheim and the first to penetrate the Awatere, in 1857. Maybe this refers to a waggon, where previously there had just been bullock drays. We shall look at this again later.</p>
<p>The popular conception which comes to mind of a bullock driver is a hard, uncouth, and possibly cruel taskmaster, with a brilliant vocabulary of blistering swear words. I have found this in Australian writings, but few examples in New Zealand records. In fact it's generally the opposite.</p>
<p>Bullocks were not guided with reins and a bit like horses, but were given names at an early age, which they learned to recognise, then they were taught to respond to commands. Of course, most directions were directed at the leaders. William Attwood's team were named Brindle, Spot, Yellowman, Merryman, Major and Nelson. Another team was Barney, Captain, Strawberry, Ruddy, Sailor, and Ginger.</p>
<p>There is the story of one bullocky who became a little offside with some of the town gentlemen. He must have planned ahead, because he had their names amongst his team and, when in proximity of their place of business, he enjoyed the delightful opportunity of abusing them with impunity. I did find one other case of a New Zealand bullocky using a blue barrage of words to work his team. This was reported by Atkinson, manager of Molesworth.</p>
<p>Atkinson found the waggon bogged and the bullocky bounding about, giving a bountiful volume of volatile invective.</p>
<p>When the performance ceased for a moment, while the man got his breath back, Atkinson advised him to pull himself together and put his faith in providence. The response was "Providence be damned Boss, he's been sulky all day, and anyhow he's the worst bloody bullock in the team". Maybe these two men came from Australia.</p>
<p>Many old drivers used their whips for noise only, not actually hitting the animals. They would coax more than threaten, but some bullockies could put on quite a pantomime, exciting the beasts to greater efforts, like cheer leaders. Most drivers contended that bullocks were not dumb, but could think for themselves, which helped in many sticky situations and, of course, they could outpull a horse team.</p>
<p>Young bullocks were broken-in in pairs. One method of breaking-in a new team was to yoke <pb xml:id="t1-body1-d3-x15-pb1" n="10" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0012_010"/>one to a fence, then yoke his mate alongside him. There would be a bit of lashing out, but they soon became used to each other.</p>
<p>For working, the animal was attached to a pole from the vehicle by a yoke and chain. The iron under the neck, holding the yoke in place, was called a bow. The pull was from the neck, not the shoulders as with a horse. The yoke was fashioned so as to prevent choking.</p>
<p>Bullocks began their working life at about three years of age. After working about eleven years, at around the age of fourteen, they were fattened and eaten, and their hide used for leather.</p>
<p>For the early pioneer they had many advantages. First, they were more affordable and easier to obtain. The prices varied but, when a horse was bringing £50, a bullock could be bought for £15. Even Wakapuaka's poundkeeper, in 1856, charged twice as much for a horse than a bullock. And of course, at the end of its working life or, if it broke a leg, the owner had the meat and hide.</p>
<p>A bullock could work well on grazing, although there are instances of their diet being supplemented. Chaff and oats had to be carried for a working horse.</p>
<p>Although slow, dependability was more important than speed at that period, and bullocks handled terrain that horses would balk at. New Zealand was bush, swamp and hills. Much of the bushland when cleared was wet. Corduroy roads of birch, manuka, or sometimes just of bundles of flax or rushes, were encountered on many journeys. For instance, as late as 1860, there are stories of bullock drays being bogged down in Riccarton Road, Christchurch. The wider, cloven hoof of the bullock coped with this better than a horse's could and the better pulling power of the bullock on the hills was appreciated.</p>
<p>
<figure xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0012_010a">
<graphic url="NHSJ05_04_0012_010a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0012_010a-g"/>
<head>William Brooks and his bullock team al Kohatu. c. 1890. Tyree Collection. Nelson Provincial Museum.</head>
</figure>
</p>
<p>On soft ground, they did not bother to shoe bullocks but on shale and other hard ground, they were shod. This is not generally known today.</p>
<p>The main drawback was the danger of a grazing team eating tutu, sometimes a full team was lost Bullocks driven in rain were apt to get scalded. There were cases of injuries and even death from a kick, though horse kicks were more common. Another hazard, in the early period in Marlborough, was wild bulls attacking the more docile animals. Even some station owners' bulls, running loose, could at times cause problems.</p>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d3-pb2" n="11" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0013_011"/>
<p>I was told last year of bullocks towing boats up the Opawa River. They also towed sledges at this period, using two to four bullocks to a sledge. Much of the early farmland was broken in by bullocks, two to a swing plough. There are records of drays with two, sometimes six, and even eight bullocks, while waggons had from eight up to sixteen. An 1857 transporter at Brayshaw Park, built to carry thirty foot logs, had a team of eight.</p>
<p>As the horse waggon began to replace the bullock team, arguments arose as to which was the better. In South Canterbury, a case of whisky was the prize in a race taking wool from Mesopotamia to Rakaia. The swamps from Swingburn and Spreadeagle favoured the bullocks, who were well ahead until a hard shingly track was reached. It was close, but the bullocks just managed to win.</p>
<p>Bullocks were used as pack animals in Marlborough, particularly in the upper Awatere. I am told that specially made pack saddles still exist, although John McKenzie, who died in 1939 aged 91, recalled using horse pack-saddles, put on back to front, as they fitted the bullock better that way. He also noted that, when coming to a high river, you caught the bullock by the tail and he did the rest</p>
<p>Bullocks had to be allowed time to graze, so often a driver did not start his team until about 10 am. Bullockies soon found the best places to stop at night, where their animals could safely roam and graze.</p>
<p>In good going abullocky could at times push his team to 15 or even 20 miles per day. One must remember, however, that the roads of today had not been constructed. The distance between towns is much shorter now and hazards have been eliminated. For instance, the timber waggons would assemble at the Half Way House, on the Picton Road, and go in convoy to Gouland's Ferry (Ferry Bridge). The road was a mess, went up all the gullies, and drivers had to double-yoke teams to get through the soft spots. This days trip is now just over 6 miles. This bit of track was exceptional. Wheetman, near Hapuka, carted wood to Kaikoura, 7 miles away, and back in a day in his bullock dray.</p>
<p>Wynen, according the Census, had quite a herd of cattle, and Buick describes bullockies whooping it up at his establishment in 1849. Mrs Muncaster records landing at Grovetown in 1859 and travelling to Blenheim by bullock dray. Nelson settlers brought their bullocks over in 1857, but I have so far found nothing to disprove Attwood's claim. Up until 1866–67, Awatere sheep were shorn just above Blairich, and the wool hauled around the White Bluff at £2-8-0 per bale. Cutters transported it to oversea ships at Port Underwood for £1 per bale. Attwood also carted timber for the Grove Road Opawa bridge. This structure cost £9.</p>
<p>George Rutland, who previously ploughed for Redwood in the Waimea with bullocks, tells how versatile a bullock dray could be. In 1860, when moving the family household goods from the Pelorus River to the Patoa farm, the dray capsized. Being unable to right it, they put all the goods on the bottom of the dray and continued on upside down.</p>
<p>Brownlees used bullocks in most areas to haul out timber. When at Makakipawa, it was said that the stock lived on karaka leaves.</p>
<p>In the 1880's, bullock drays scrambled through the dreaded Hell's Gate, in the Wairau Gorge, though not without loss.</p>
<p>During the Marlborough Centennial, a group of Spring Creek men trained a team to pull a covered waggon. It proved one of the highlights of the parade. Bullocks were not a special breed, just trained beef stock who, after 11 years of faithful service, ended in the soup.</p>
<p>Redundant, ruminating, humble heroes, we salute you!</p>
<p>Am just off to have a steak.</p>
</div>
<div decls="#text-4-bibl" xml:id="t1-body1-d4" type="chapter">
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d4-pb1" n="12" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0014_012"/>
<head>
<title level="a">
<name key="name-444314" type="work">
<hi rend="c">
<name type="person">Francis Dillon Bell</name>:</hi> his early life</name>
</title>
</head>
<byline>
<name key="name-444315" type="person">Elisabeth Airey</name>
</byline>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d4-d1" type="section" n="Francis Dillon Bell: his early life">
<p>Francis Dillon Bell first came into my consciousness as "…a pair of white trousers on someone reclining by her." This came from Nelson's well-known diarist, John Saxton, in September 1845.</p>
<p>The wider extract reads, "On my return…along the cart road, I saw a female with a parasol sitting on the bank above a steep cutting and a pair of white trousers on someone reclining by her. On coming nearer I saw it was Miss A[bsolon] who began reading her book and Mr B[ell] reclining …P[riscilla (Saxton's wife)] said they had come up the Valley together, he assisting her over the bridge and carrying her parasol…" <ref target="#bibl37">
<hi rend="sup">(1)</hi>
</ref>
</p>
<p>Francis Dillon Bell was then nearly 23. The nature, or rather the speculation of the nature, of his relationship with Adeline Absolon, then an attractive woman of 26, is not relevant to this article.</p>
<p>Bell first came to Nelson late in 1843, not long after his arrival from London in the Ursula in September. An employee of the New Zealand Company in London, he had been appointed just prior to his departure in May, to be the Company's Immigration Agent at Nelson. The appointment was subject to the discretion of the Principal Agent, Captain Arthur Wakefield.<ref target="#bibl38">
<hi rend="sup">(2)</hi>
</ref> Wakefield was killed at the Wairau Affray, whilst Bell was en route to New Zealand.</p>
<p>
<figure xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0014_012a">
<graphic url="NHSJ05_04_0014_012a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0014_012a-g"/>
<head>Francis Dillon Bell. 1860. Bett Collection. Nelson Provincial Museum.</head>
</figure>
</p>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d4-d1-pb1" n="13" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0015_013"/>
<p>It would appear that Bell stayed only a few weeks on that first visit, but took up residence in March 1844 and remained for two years. Later, in 1846, he was appointed a magistrate for Nelson, but his other duties seem to have kept him in the North Island for large stretches of time, until 1848.</p>
<p>Bell returned for a second major period in 1848, to take over from William Fox as Resident Agent for the Company. With various trips away, principally to Wellington, Bell remained in Nelson until July 1851. During this period, he married Margaret Hort of Wellington and their first two children, Jessie and Harry (the latter to become a Prime Minister of New Zealand) were born.</p>
<p>So what was the background of this man, who was one of Nelson's earliest settlers and leaders?</p>
<p>Seven years after the Battle of Waterloo and three years after the birth of the young princess destined to become Queen Victoria, Francis Dillon Bell was born, on 8 October 1822. His father, Edward, has been described as a merchant and, two years before Francis' birth, he was commissioned as British Vice Consul (an honorary position) in Bordeaux, France. Although an Encyclopaedia of New Zealand says Francis was born in France, <ref target="#bibl39">
<hi rend="sup">(3)</hi>
</ref> I have not yet been able to prove this; he may have been born in England.</p>
<p>The Bell family was an interesting one, with a strong Quaker background. One of Francis Dillon Bell's ancestors was the Great Quaker apologist, Robert Barclay of Urie. One of Robert's sons, David, went to London from Scotland in the early 18th century and founded the Barclay banking business. David's daughter, Katherine, married another Quaker, Daniel Bell of Tottenham, then a village outside London.</p>
<p>Daniel and Katherine had a number of grandchildren, one of whom was the great prison reformer, Elizabeth Fry. But of more relevance to this story was their daughter, Priscilla, who married Edward Wakefield. Priscilla and Edward were the grandparents of Edward Gibbon, William and Arthur Wakefield. Francis Dillon Bell was, therefore, a second cousin, although many years younger, of Edward Gibbon, the great colonial theorist, of William, the leader of the Wellington settlement, and Arthur, the leader of the Nelson settlement</p>
<p>Edward Bell, Francis' father, came from Hornsey, which is now a northern suburb of London. Little is known of his mother's family. She was Fanny, a daughter of the Rev J Matthews of Cirencester. Edward and Fanny are reputed to have made a runaway marriage.</p>
<p>When Edward and Fanny went to live in Bordeaux is not clear. Their daughter, Frances Katherine, was baptised in St Mary's, Hornsey, in 1818.<ref target="#bibl40">
<hi rend="sup">(4)</hi>
</ref> Almost certainly, she was the eldest of the family. Then came Edward, then Francis. There were four more sons and four more daughters, three of whom were reputed to have become nuns. The only one of Francis' siblings of relevance to this story was his brother, Henry Angelo Bell. Henry was appointed clerk to Captain Arthur Wakefield and travelled to New Zealand with Wakefield in the Whitby. He died of typhoid just a few months after arrival in Nelson, and was buried in the Haven cemetery.</p>
<p>The Bells seem to have continued living in France right through Francis' childhood and teenage years. He was educated privately in Bordeaux and Auteuil. The latter is now a suburb of Paris, but was formerly a country village, at the entrance to the Bois de Boulogne. Francis grew up to be fluent in English, French and Italian and also had a sound knowledge of German. This language facility was to prove very useful to him later in his career.</p>
<p>Bell was a talented watercolourist, was an enthusiast for Italian music and sang well. A man of "slightly over middle height" <ref target="#bibl41">
<hi rend="sup">(5)</hi>
</ref> David (later Sir David) Monro described Bell in 1845 as being "exceedingly good looking with long and straight legs". <ref target="#bibl42">
<hi rend="sup">(6)</hi>
</ref>
</p>
<p>By the age of 17 the need for employment became of importance. What better source than his Wakefield relations and, in particular, Edward Gibbon who was, by 1839, deeply involved with schemes of emigration to New Zealand.</p>
<p>The London which Dillon Bell came to was a city which had developed rapidly over the previous 20 years or so, to incorporate more and more of the surrounding villages. Its population was close to two million. The superb Regency building era, and its prime architect John Nash, had given way to such people as Thomas Cubit, who had developed much of Belgravia and Pimlico from 1827 onwards.</p>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d4-d1-pb2" n="14" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0016_014"/>
<p>The growing population had necessitated new forms of transport. London had had its first regular horse-drawn omnibus service since 1829. But what was to be the most far-reaching development were the railways. The first railway within London had been opened in 1836. Euston Station was opened a year later, as the terminus for the first main-line railway between London and Birmingham. Parliament had passed 39 more bills for new lines during 1836 and 1837. Many of the great London docks had been built in the early pan of the century.</p>
<p>Great social and political changes were taking place, Britain was no longer an agricultural nation, ruled by the wealthy landowners, squires and clergy, but one which was now dominated by the new classes formed by commerce and industry. The spectacular Reform Bill of 1832 had changed the electoral basis of Parliament The Georgian era had come to an end in 1837, and in 1839 the young Queen Victoria was 20.</p>
<p>The economic upheaval and social distress, caused through the change from an agricultural to an industrial society, still continued to affect large segments of the population.</p>
<p>Emigration had developed as one of the ways to relieve this distress. Before 1830, the highest number of emigrants in any one year had been 30,000, in 1832 it was 130,000.</p>
<p>Edward Gibbon Wakefield's theories of colonisation, and the events which lead to the formation of the New Zealand Company, are sufficiently well known to followers of New Zealand history not to detail here. Suffice it to say that the decision to form the New Zealand Company was taken at a dinner hosted by banker John Wright, at his home in Hampstead, on 20 March 1839. Just under two years previously, the New Zealand Association had been formed, with the objective of establishing a New Zealand colony on Wakefield's principles, but circumstances had proved this particular vehicle not to be the one able to take the action necessary. The prospectus for the New Zealand Company was issued on 2 May 1839. Ten days later, the Tory sailed for New Zealand, with the advance party commissioned to buy land for the first settlement, the settlement that was to become Wellington.<ref target="#bibl43">
<hi rend="sup">(7)</hi>
</ref>
</p>
<p>Exactly when, in 1839, Francis Dillon Bell joined the staff of the New Zealand Company, I have not yet been able to discover. To have been there from the very earliest days certainly must have been stimulating and exciting. His first position was as Assistant Secretary.</p>
<p>The operating structure of the Company was surprisingly similar to a business of comparable size today: a group of directors, a series of sub-committees and a small, structured, paid staff. To quote from Michael Turnbull's thesis. The Colonization of New Zealand by the New Zealand Company: "The Company's office was divided into two departments, the Secretary's and Emigration, the former being the overall responsible authority…the departments were…small and were located in the same building. The Secretary's Department had about three clerks, there was an accountant and a book-keeper, and the Emigration Department had two." <ref target="#bibl44">
<hi rend="sup">(8)</hi>
</ref>
</p>
<p>The Emigration Department dealt, virtually exclusively, with the recruitment of, and arrangements for, the labourers and their families, who received assisted passages. The Secretary's Department dealt with everything else: correspondence with the land purchasers, emigration arrangements for those of the purchasers and their families who actually emigrated, chartering of ships and their provisioning etc etc.</p>
<p>The office was very understaffed as a result of the reluctance of the Company to spend anything more than the bare minimum in this area of the operation. The organisation was fully extended in launching the first expedition to Wellington. Only the freshness and enthusiasm of the staff ensured that all the necessary preparations were made. At the same time, the public relations aspects were not overlooked. The expedition caused quite a stir. Michael Turnbull sums it up, though, by saying, "Throughout [the Company's] proceedings were characterised by what one of the Wakefield group called 'hury scury [sic]'." <ref target="#bibl45">
<hi rend="sup">(9)</hi>
</ref>
</p>
<p>I shall not attempt in this article, to cover all the aspects of Bell's work for the Company in London, but will focus on the period relating to the Nelson settlement.</p>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d4-d1-pb3" n="15" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0017_015"/>
<p>By 1841, the Company's activities had grown enormously. They had the ongoing matters relating the Wellington settlement, the intensive arrangements for Nelson, including negotiations with the British government, the merger of the Plymouth and New Zealand Companies and the proposals for a secondary Wellington settlement – Wanganui.</p>
<p>At the beginning of April, the Company firmly advised the British government of its intention to form the Nelson settlement. The advance party sailed in the Will Watch and the Whitby on 27 April 1841.</p>
<p>In early March, Bell had been appointed Secretary, pro tem, on John Ward's resignation to take up another position. This increased his responsibilities, and workload, enormously.</p>
<p>Remember, he was only 19! Working through New Zealand Company papers, I found him writing despatches to William Wakefield in Wellington, drafting the Company's written representations to the Government and dealing directly with the new group of land purchasers. Bell had an easy, fluid style and, for a 20th century researcher, thank goodness, a very legible hand. His language was simple and direct.</p>
<p>The days immediately prior to the departure of the Will Watch and Whitby were overwhelmingly busy. Bell "…work[ed] through two whole nights running and [was] proud of, rather than disgruntled with, the fact" And he "…personally delivered land orders to anxious purchasers already embarked on the emigrant ships." <ref target="#bibl46">
<hi rend="sup">(10)</hi>
</ref>.</p>
<p>Bell's annual salary as secretary was set in April at £150, but raised several days later to £250. This compared to a Principal Agent (William and Arthur Wakefield) at £1,000 and the Second Clerk at £100. In October he was paid an extra £50, as a gratuity for extra services. <ref target="#bibl47">
<hi rend="sup">(11)</hi>
</ref>
</p>
<p>By August, he was completely exhausted and wrote that "I go to Boulogne for two or three days tomorrow to recruit my health which hard work has quite knocked up…" At the same time, he declined an invitation from another person to visit Oxford, on the grounds of pressure of work, but promised to visit in October. <ref target="#bibl48">
<hi rend="sup">(12)</hi>
</ref>
</p>
<p>John Ward returned to the Company, as Secretary, in October that year and Bell resumed his Assistant Secretaryship.</p>
<p>As well as actually working from the office in London, Bell, of course, visited the emigrant ships prior their departure. He also seems to have made several trips to further farewell family and friends at later stages, whilst ships were still on the English coast. One such trip, on 19 December 1841, was to see his young cousin, Emily Wakefield, daughter of William Wakefield, then aged 15, who had embarked for New Zealand on the Clifford. Bell's account, given to John Saxton three years later in Nelson and recounted in Saxton's diary reads, "…his coming on board…was quite an adventure. He arrived at Deal before the ship. He then went by gig to Margate and seeing a ship approaching towed by a steamer very rapidly, guessed it was the Clifford, and started in a 4 oared wherry and got on board late at night. He left at 6am with the Pilot at Deal."<ref target="#bibl49">
<hi rend="sup">(13)</hi>
</ref>
</p>
<p>When Bell actually decided to emigrate to New Zealand is not clear, but there is evidence to suggest that this had been regarded as a possibility right from 1839. The first definite record I have been able to find was of an undated meeting with Edward Gibbon Wakefield "…who appointed an interview in Finsbury Square, where having walked in silence for some time contrary to his…usual chatty manner, he suddenly turned round to [Bell] and proposed [Bell going] to New Zealand." <ref target="#bibl50">
<hi rend="sup">(14)</hi>
</ref>
</p>
<p>By early 1843, Bell's plans to emigrate were being finalised and passage was booked on the Ursula. A ship of 600 tons, she was not a New Zealand Company charter, but a legal agreement was entered into with her owners for her to sail from London to Wellington and Nelson. Some of the conditions which had related to the emigrant ships prevailed: a surgeon/superintendent, food and accommodation standards. Bell was charged by the New Zealand Company to "…examine into the treatment of theemigrantson the voyage a) in reference to Surgeon Superintendent's Certificate and b) against ship owner's potential monetary claims." He also carried a steel-engraven seal of the Company's arms for the Agent at Nelson. <ref target="#bibl51">
<hi rend="sup">(15)</hi>
</ref>
</p>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d4-d1-pb4" n="16" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0018_016"/>
<p>The Ursula carried a total of 37 passengers: 11 cabin, 12 intermediate and 14 in the forecabin. Only six of these were assisted emigrants, a family by the name of Trotter. Initially at St Katherine's Dock, the Ursula sailed from Gravesend on Wednesday 17 May. Detained at Portsmouth for two days, due to adverse winds, she finally quit England on 22 May and arrived at Wellington four months later, on 13 September 1843. Francis Dillon Bell was a month short of his twenty-first birthday.</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d4-d2" type="references">
<head>References</head>
<listBibl>
<bibl n="1." xml:id="bibl37">
<title>Saxton Diaries</title>, Vol II, <biblScope>p46</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl n="2." xml:id="bibl38">
<title>New Zealand Company Records</title>, NZC 102/11.</bibl>
<bibl n="3." xml:id="bibl39">
<title>An Encyclopaedia of New Zealand</title>, Vol I, <biblScope>p188</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl n="4." xml:id="bibl40">
<title>Registers of St Mary's Church, Hornsey</title>
</bibl>
<bibl n="5." xml:id="bibl41">
<title>An Encyclopaedia of New Zealand</title>, Vol I, <biblScope>p191</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl n="6." xml:id="bibl42">
<title>Letter David Monro to Miss C Monro, <date when="1845-09-18">18 September 1845</date> quoted in Thoroughly a Man of the World</title>, Rex E Wright-St Clair, <biblScope>p70</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl n="7." xml:id="bibl43">
<title>Fatal Success</title>, <pubPlace>Patricia Burns</pubPlace> (ed Henry Richardson), pp11–17</bibl>
<bibl n="8." xml:id="bibl44">The Colonization of New Zealand by the New Zealand Company, thesis Michael Turnbull, <biblScope>pp97 and 98</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl n="9." xml:id="bibl45">
<title>ibid</title>, <biblScope>p86</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl n="10." xml:id="bibl46">
<title>ibid</title>, <biblScope>p96</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl n="11." xml:id="bibl47">
<title>New Zealand Company Records</title>, NZC 31/3</bibl>
<bibl n="12." xml:id="bibl48">
<title>ibid</title>, NZC 18/2</bibl>
<bibl n="13." xml:id="bibl49">
<title>Saxton Diaries</title>, Vol I, <biblScope>p112</biblScope> and <publisher>New Zealand Journal</publisher>, <date when="1943-01-21">21 January 1943</date>, <biblScope>p19</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl n="14." xml:id="bibl50">
<title>ibid</title>, Vol II, <biblScope>p73</biblScope>
</bibl>
<bibl n="15." xml:id="bibl51">
<title>New Zealand Company Records</title>, NZC 102/11 and NZC 202/3</bibl>
</listBibl>
</div>
</div>
<div decls="#text-5-bibl" xml:id="t1-body1-d5" type="chapter">
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d5-pb1" n="17" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0019_017"/>
<head>
<hi rend="c">
<title level="a">
<name key="name-444316" type="work">Pioneers of Port Underwood</name>
</title>
</hi>
</head>
<byline>
<name key="name-444317" type="person">Joyce Thompson</name>.</byline>
<p>One day, in August 1840, Eliza Beard stood waving on the beach at Port Underwood. She was five years old, and never forgot that day. Her mother, Mary Ann Beard, 30, and her three brothers, Henry, Charles and William, were also waving. Her father, William Beard, 33, with his friends Wilton, Baldick and Hall, was rowing out towards the Wairau Bar. They had been indentured, by a firm of Sydney solicitors, to make a settlement on the Wairau plain, at a site some miles up the Wairau River, later Clovernook Farm. They were taking a second load of timber from Ocean Bay to the site.</p>
<p>William and Mary Ann Beard, (nee Coleman) had both been baptised and married at St. George's Church, King Stanley, a hill country farming village near Stroud, Gloucestershire. They and their nephew, Thomas Cagley, 17, left from Bristol on the Bussorah Merchant (531 tons, Captain Montcrieff) 15 May, 1839. The Bounty Scheme, whereby the Australian Government, increasingly concerned that their settlers were mostly released convicts, sought to attract emigrants from England. Applicants had to be near 30 years of age or younger, of good character, farmers or artisans, healthy and industrious, and arrive in the colony with £10.0.0. A bounty of £30.0.0. was granted each family, to defray travelling expenses.</p>
<p>Their ship arrived in Sydney 3 September, 1839. William Beard was familiar with cattle, so he began driving herds to and from the outback. Sometimes he was absent from home for weeks. On one of these expeditions he met George Baldick. Baldick said he had arranged with Unwin &amp; Co., Sydney solicitors, to supervise the transport of a cargo of cattle to Port Underwood, New Zealand, then known as Cloudy Bay, and drive them over to the Wairau plain. Unwin held a title to the plain, which he believed was genuine. He had acquired it from a Captain Blenkinsopp of the whaler Caroline. This gentleman, latterly in financial difficulty, had mortgaged his New Zealand estate to Unwin. Shortly afterward, Blenkinsopp was drowned near South Australia, whereupon Unwin took possession of the title. But how had Blenkinsopp come to own this title in the first place? The Maori chief, Te Rauparaha, overlord of tribes and lands around Cook Strait, needed a cannon to make him more powerful. Blenkinsopp, in return, wanted the Wairau plain. The chief, unable to read or write, or sign his name, made his mark on the agreement. Blenkinsopp also signed it and the deal was made. Both parties retained a copy. Here we may question if Te Rauparaha was, in fact, legal owner of the plain in the first place, because he had taken other tribes' land by force, terrorizing and beating them into submission. Later, when news of Blenkinsopp's drowning trickled back to New Zealand, Te Rauparaha conveniently claimed he had been tricked into putting his mark on the agreement, which he believed merely gave permission for the Caroline to gather wood and water from Cloudy Bay. He little knew that Blenkinsopp's copy was safe in the office of Unwin &amp; Co in Sydney.</p>
<p>Certainly, Wilton, Baldick, Hall and Beard believed they were on a lawful mission, carrying out Unwin's instructions. About June 1840, the four families, with cattle, boarded the Hope, a barque of 600 tons under Captain Coombes, in Sydney and set out for Ocean Bay, Port Underwood. The Hope usually plied between Sydney, Nelson and Lima, Peru. The journey to New Zealand took no more than 14 days. They disembarked and the ship carried on to Port Nicholson (Wellington), arriving about 13 June 1840.</p>
<p>In 1840 Ocean Bay's population comprised some Maoris and about 5 whaling gangs, most of whom had landed there from Canada, America, France, England and Sydney. Some, not all, were tough characters, but usually hospitable and pleased to welcome newcomers with news from other parts. Houses built of reeds and rushes by the Maoris were equipped with our families' own pots, pans, tin and crockery dishes. A few missionaries, Rev. William White and some Maori converts, had occasionally called there since 1838. They estimated there to be some 100 Maoris and 30 Europeans living there at the time.</p>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d5-pb2" n="18" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0020_018"/>
<p>Soon after settling, the men began driving the cattle over to the plain. Edward Jemingham Wakefield, in Adventure in New Zealand mentioned this briefly:</p>
<quote>
<p>"News had been heard of the arrival of a shipload of cattle in Cloudy Bay, with the agent of a Sydney firm, who claimed the Wairau plains near that place……The agent, Mr Wilton, had however, been prevented from driving his cattle onto the plains by our old friends the Cloudy Bay natives, who denied the sale altogether; and the cattle were running, by sufferance, on the hills close to Port Underwood."</p>
</quote>
<p>Leaving the cattle, they returned to Ocean Bay to begin the transportation of building materials. To reach the site, it was necessary to row across many miles of open sea, over the Wairau Bar and up the Wairau River.</p>
<p>Having erected the frame of the building, they returned to Ocean Bay for further supplies. So far they had had no more bother with the Maoris. On the second trip they intended finishing off the building, in readiness for the families. They rowed away through the heads of Port Underwood. According to information in Old Marlborough, by T Lindsay Buick, they reached the mouth of the Wairau River, which was then commanded by Te Rauparaha's old pah, but what transpired from then on has never been told, and now never will. No tidings reached Mary Ann or the other wives for some days, until a number of Maoris arrived at the Port and were somewhat boisterous in their manner. One of them was wearing a pair of boots, which Mrs Baldick thought she recognized. They were fastened with a piece of braid which she had given her husband, as a substitute for a broken bootlace, just before he had left home. When questioned, the Maoris reported that the boat had capsized and that all the men had drowned. A search party found damning evidence that the men had, in fact, been done to death.</p>
<p>What actually happened that day at the Wairau Bar? The report in the NZ Gazette and Britannia Spectator of 24 October 1840 reads:</p>
<quote>
<p>"A week beforehand reports of the murder reached Wellington. A party of military stationed there boarded the "Brougham", Lieut. Best commanding the party. They were accompanied by the Police Magistrate, Michael Murphy, Capt Chaffers and two police officers. They made a thorough investigation, were convinced of foul play, but could prove nothing. Rauparaha, quite agitated to see the soldiers, asked why they had come. October 30th the "Brougham" returned to Wellington."</p>
</quote>
<p>E J Wakefield also mentioned the tragedy in Adventure in New Zealand:</p>
<quote>
<p>"On the morning of the 7th (October) we sailed for Cloudy Bay…and anchored at night in the cove above Jackie Guard's…Guard had got a new house, which he had built as a grog shop, to accommodate the increasing whaling traffic of me Bay…A startling piece of news was conveyed to us while here. Mr wilton, the agent of a Sydney house, whom I have already described as prevented by the natives from entering Wairau plain with his cattle, had lost his life at the mouth of the river, together with the rest of a boat's crew. Whether this had happened by the upsetting of the boat or in another way, no one of the party remained alive to say; but bloodstained clothes, and some of the articles which had been in the boat, found dry on the beach, led the white people to opine that mere had been some foul play; and that the fragments of me boat also found upon the beach, were only a device to support the story of their being accidentally drowned…A vessel from Sydney, which had been loading oil from the station, was also lying here (Jackson's Bay)…As he was going to visit Port Nicholson immediately, I despatched by him an account of the suspicious occurrences at Wairau to Colonel Wakefield and to Mr Murphy (Magistrate)…On the 19th having <pb xml:id="t1-body1-d5-x15-x1-pb1" n="19" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0021_019"/>made another attempt to proceed to the northward, …we drifted back (to Jackson's Bay). The Company's barque, Brougham, had anchored in the afternoon and we went on board to hear the news. Mr Murphy was on board, attended by Lieutenant Best and the soldiers…but it appeared that however suspicious…no very clear evidence could be found.. The Cloudy Bay natives stated their opinion that Mr Wilton and his party had been murdered by the aboriginal natives whom they described to be still existing as fugitives there, as well as at the Pelorus River…. Nothing more, however, was ever said officially about the affair…(This and other factors) excited a considerable degree of ill-feeling among the whalers…They had still to protect themselves against the frequent insolence and rapacity of Rauparaha, Rangihaeata, Tungia and the other bullies among the Kawia chiefs, and the nonchalant hushing up of the Wilton affair was well calculated to make them, as well as the natives, consider the legal authority in the islands to be powerless and inefficient."</p>
</quote>
<p>Whatever happened, the four men had perished. Back at Ocean Bay, to make her plight worse, Mary Ann Beard was about to give birth to her daughter, Jane. She left no written word of her grief, but we can imagine her despair and fears for their future, in that wild and isolated bay, 12,000 miles from her family in Gloucester. An attempt was also made to investigate the tragedy by a Sydney man-o-war, but nothing came of that either, and the culprits went free.</p>
<p>Back in Sydney, Mr Unwin, shocked by the whole affair, gave up all idea of settlement and sold his copy of the agreement, which had been sold to Captain Wakefield beforehand. Adventure in New Zealand records:</p>
<quote>
<p>"The agent of a Sydney firm…had written to Colonel Wakefield, informing him that they held the original of the deed by which Rauparaha, Rangihaeata, and other chiefs had made that district over to Captain Blenkinsopp many years before. So it appeared that the deed sold to Colonel Wakefield at Hokianga by his widow (Te Pehi's daughter) was possibly only a copy".</p>
</quote>
<p>All the foregoing, and a certain amount of skulduggery, played a large part in the causes of Wairau incident, an infinitely greater tragedy and one of the most shameful episodes in New Zealand history.</p>
<p>But how were the Beards to survive in Ocean Bay? James Hogan, a young carpenter of good character living at the Port, already knew the family. He lost no time in proposing to Mary Ann who was still, at 33, young and good looking. Even supposing romance was a little thin, expediency won the day. Hogan, a protestant from Londonderry in Northern Ireland, had left his country because of religious persecution and found his way to the east coast of America. He signed on as ship's carpenter on a whaling vessel, bound for the Antipodes in search of better whaling grounds.</p>
<p>On the arrival of a permanent missionary, Rev. Samuel Ironside, Mary Ann Beard remarried to James Hogan at a service in Mr Wynen's home, at nearby Kakapo Bay, on 27 December 1840. On Christmas Day, at the age of 13 weeks, baby Jane had been baptised by Ironside. According to his diary:</p>
<quote>
<p>"After about a week's fine weather sailing, we entered Port Underwood and anchored off Kakapo, Guard's Bay, on 20th December, 1840. We were expeditiously and unceremoniously landed on the beach and the 'Magnet' pursued her voyage to Port Nicholson".</p>
</quote>
<p>Soon after, the Ironsides decided on Ngakuta Bay for their mission, and a building serving as a home, school and church was erected, with help from Maoris and Europeans. In 1842 Ebeneezer Church was completed and consecrated. The tragic Wairau incident at Tua Marina in June 1843, where 22 Europeans and 4 Maoris lost their lives, dealt Port Underwood a staggering blow. Fearing Te Rauparaha and his tribe would descend upon them, the white settlers fled back to Sydney, Wellington or Nelson, and the mission was eventually deserted.</p>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d5-pb3" n="20" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0022_020"/>
<p>James and Mary Ann Hogan decided on Nelson, where the New Zealand Company had established a settlement in 1842. At first, they lived in the Wood area, where the price of land was minimal, but later, when required to pay a further £300, they moved over to Motueka, which was opened up in 1843.</p>
<p>A Motueka census of 1845 lists James Hogan as Church of England, with 6 acres of land, living in an earth house. The 1849 census shows them still there, in a wooden building with one acre of potatoes and one cattle beast. In addition to the five Beard children, Mary Ann and James had another five. Eliza Beard, who remembered her father rowing away to his death at Wairau Bar, married George Pickett Graham, well-known pioneer of Collingwood. His family gave part of their name, together with the Bains, to the district Bainham. Much sought after as a midwife, she risked her life many times, crossing the Aorere River in flood to deliver a baby. She had a large family of her own and lived to 93. Jane Beard, born posthumously in 1840, married John McKinna of Collingwood, had a large family and lived to 78. Of the Hogans, Mary Ann (Polly), born 1844, married Colonel Henry Harris Baber and made her way as a singer on the London stage. Charlotte, born 1845, married W G Cullen, Nelson. James, born 1850, married Angelina Maule. Emma, born 1852, married Charles Tunnicliffe and had 10 children, one of whom was my father. They lived in Blenheim and their descendants still live in Marlborough. Ellen, born 1854, married George Wilson of Oamaru.</p>
<p>It is 150 years since the Halls, Wiltons, Baldicks and Beards came to Port Underwood. We will remember them.</p>
</div>
<div decls="#text-6-bibl" xml:id="t1-body1-d6" type="chapter">
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d6-pb1" n="21" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0023_021"/>
<head>
<hi rend="c">
<title level="a">
<name key="name-444318" type="work">Childhood Memories of Sleepy Hollow</name>
</title>
</hi>
</head>
<byline>
<name key="name-444319" type="person">Aubrey Spear</name>.</byline>
<p>I was only a little fellow, but can now visualise the old home, with four peaked gables, built on the terrace in that lovely old part of town, so near to the beloved river the Maitai. Many happy hours were spent swimming and trying to catch cockerbullies, crawlers and shrimps, after lifting up small stones in the shallows of the river. The river was not deep in many places, and we could paddle across it, holding up our knickerbockers, while the girls tucked their clothes into their pants! My sister Rachel, who was only three years older than myself, was always very keen to join me in my hunting under the stones. I was the baby of the family, number eleven and no doubt spoilt. I have four sisters and six brothers. I was an uncle when I was five years old, being twenty years younger than my eldest sister.</p>
<p>It must have been a relief for Mother, Bless her, to have the children away for a few hours, where she knew the water was not deep. We could all swim. I learnt at the age of four to swim under the water. One of my elder sisters, Effie, taught College girls to swim in the Girls' Bathing Hole, just up the river from the Nile Street foot bridge.</p>
<p>I can well remember often going to Wilkie's Butcher Shop, next to Griffin's Mill in Nile Street, to get a penny worth of cat's meat, which was always nice and fresh. Often the penny was not taken by the man. My sister Effie had a pot, which she took when we were taken for a picnic to Almond Tree Flat, just past Sharland's Bridge. This pot was used to boil onions and potatoes and sometimes, I am afraid, the cat's meat was mixed in with it. A real Irish stew!</p>
<p>My youngest sister Rachel and I were great pals and she loved being a "boy". We would go for mushrooms over the hills above the Maitai, Long Look-Out, Clouston's Hill and Two Peak and come home with our bags full. We used to have a flax bag with two handles, and a stick crosswise in the bag to stop the mushrooms being crushed. Other days we went bird nesting. The Council gave a penny a dozen for blackbird and thrush eggs. Mr Bolton, who had a nursery in Waimea Road and a shop near the Theatre Royal, in Lower Waimea Road, gave a penny a dozen for peach stones, so in season we collected a lot and sold them.</p>
<p>A day's outing to The Sands, Tahuna as it is now called, was a joy. We could take the Palace car from the Masonic Hotel, or the bus on rails, to Wakefield Quay and walk the rest of the way. On the way home, we would sometimes miss the bus and have to walk right home to Nile Street, near Wainui House. We never had a watch but used the sun. There were large sand hills which we could roll down, but they have been cleared away. The motor camp takes their place. Some of the houses near-by are built on the base of the sand hills near the motor camp.</p>
<p>I did not go to school till I was six years old and then went to Brook Street Miss Lucy Kitching was the mistress and when she called us at playtime, she would knock on the window. It must have been extra strong glass for we could hear it all over the playground.</p>
<p>We boys had iron hoops and a stick with a crook to hold it while in motion. The girls only had light wooden hoops and a straight slick. Marbles were all the go those days, and spinning tops.</p>
<p>We made a thrasher with half a blade of green flax. We stripped it down into small strands, about 12 inches long, and then kept hitting the top, to keep it moving on the asphalt path.</p>
<p>Spinning tops was a game for the older boys. A circle was made on the ground and a top placed in the centre. A boy took his spinning top, wound his cord firmly around it then, taking the top in his hand and holding the end of the cord, he threw his top at the one in the circle. If he got a bull's eye, the top on the ground could easily be split in half or damaged. A great shout came if he scored!</p>
<p>A game of marbles was played by digging permanent holes in the ground about 6 inches apart and 2 inches deep. I can't remember the name for it.</p>
<p>Jump the Nag's Tail was another rough and tumble game. Six boys were needed to kneel down, and the front one put his arms about a tree trunk, with the top of his head against the tree. The next <pb xml:id="t1-body1-d6-x13-pb1" n="22" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0024_022"/>boy put his arms around the boy in front and so on, until the six were in place. Another six were needed, and in turn each one ran and jumped on the backs of the boys kneeling down. If he could break the nag's tail, his side won.</p>
<p>Gag's Home was a real struggle, with six boys to a side. The first six marked their man. The second six went behind a shed, or the school. One of them had a "gag", a button, a rubber, or something easy to hide on a person. These boys had to race as fast as possible and not get caught, to a fence about 20 yards away. There were many good tussles, all taken in good sport, but clothes often got ripped in finding the gag. If Gag got through to the fence, the boy would call out "Gag's Home". It was fun to watch, as well as be in the tussle. This game was mostly played at the Boys' Central School in Nile Street. The lime trees are still growing which we used for Gag's Home and Jump the Nag's Tail.</p>
<p>
<figure xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0024_022a">
<graphic url="NHSJ05_04_0024_022a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0024_022a-g"/>
<head>Nelson Central Boys School. c. 1907. Jones Collection. Alexander Tumbull Library.</head>
</figure>
</p>
<p>I remember when the grass in the Central School grounds was long and easy to loop together. How often we youngsters had a good chuckle when we saw a victim topple over, but this happened once too often! It was drill day and we were marching along in our uniforms and side caps, when over went dear old Sos, our headmaster, arms outstretched. He came to his feet as red as an apple. Silence reigned supreme. Next day we were all told to undo those traps. It was no good asking who did it. No one would split anyhow.</p>
<p>Sos, F.G. Gibbs, was our headmaster and a decent chap too. He used to take a mob of boys in the fifth and sixth classes tramping up Dun Mountain. We had to walk to the Reservoir, then up the long spur to the railway track and then through some lovely bush, carpeted with all kinds of ferns. Small streams crossed our path in many places before we reached Third House, where we had our lunch. Then on to the mineral belt, where Sos really enjoyed a look around among the minerals. We all came home laden with small pieces. I found a fossil of sea shells, which I kept for many years.</p>
<p>One sunny Saturday, Mr Gibbs took a dozen or so of us up there again and, just before we got to the mineral belt he told half of us to go on. We wandered along and then discovered snow on the track. What a surprise for us and a good chance for a snow fight. Sos knew it was there, but we didn't. When he and the rest of the boys came around the bend, we let drive and had a good battle. "Oh", Sos called out after a while, "that's enough boys. You've had your revenge on the schoolmaster". We always liked him for that kind of thing. He was not married, but was a jolly good teacher and friend.</p>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d6-pb2" n="23" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0025_023"/>
<p>Mr Worley, Boop as the boys called him, had the blow pipe class at school for sixth formers only. He and Sos were mad on minerals. Once a week a male teacher took the boys for a swim at Denne's Hole, in the Maitai River, and those who could not swim were taught to. A doctor's certificate had to be sent in, if a boy was not allowed to go in the water. We had a day each year for swimming races. There were no bikes and we all had to use Shank's Pony. I remember us all going up the Maitai, with our towels and trunks around our necks, when the large poplars on the side of the road had shed the fluffy white cottonlike flower. It lined the roadway for a long way. There was a deep hole at Denne's and we could swim over 50 yards without striking the ground. One event was diving for plates. Shiny pancake tins were thrown in, well spaced, and the diver had to take long breaths and pick up as many as possible, sometimes all fifteen, which gained a special prize.</p>
<p>Overarm, trudge or crawl and side stroke were all allowed in the races. There was a race for back stroke and breast stroke, and diving was a must in a championship for the school.</p>
<p>In the early days of 1908, at Central School, there were swimming races at Denne's Hole. Four boys were picked to represent the school at a championship, arranged by the Nelson Amateur Swimming Club.</p>
<p>This was held at the Port, between the wharves. The Anchor Company had a long wharf built 25 yards out from the main wharf, just opposite the Ship Hotel and near the Anchor Foundry Co. Office. There was a ladder down to the water, where a punt had been placed, for the boys to use as a starting and finishing post. It was 50 yards to the breastwork, where we had the races. On the eastern side was a breastwork wall of granite blocks, on reclaimed land, which was used for storing coal.</p>
<p>This wall made a splendid grandstand for the races. The H.M.S. Encounter was out in the bay that Saturday, so there were mobs of Bluejackets, boys and men, watching the races, as well as a crowd of Nelson enthusiasts. During the Nelson Amateur Swimming Club events, the All Schools Races took place. The four finalists were all from Central School. They were Ken Robertson, Bert Warnock, Albert Sculley and Aubrey Spear. There were three races, 50yds, 75yds and 100yds. Each boy took his place on the punt, the shot went off, and away we went, amidst the constant shouting of the crowd, which gave us lots of courage. Robbie (Ken Robertson) was the one I had never beaten and I made an all out bid, right from the start. He was thick-set and red haired. I was long and thin in limbs. The roar from the crowd was good and I had come home first, with Robbie close behind. It was a great thrill. We were hauled up on to the punt and handshakes were prevalent We were given an orange and a good rub down, ready for the next race. The sailor boys gave us a good spin, one group calling for Ginger (Robbie) and the other for me (Split Pin). Robbie won the next two races, so got a gold medal. I got a silver medal for second and Bert Warnock (Chuck) came third.</p>
<p>Money was often given at the swimming races, so the prize winners could buy what they fancied. My brother, Cyril Spear, won a gold watch for Harriers in New Plymouth. Another brother, Elliott, who was the Nelson Swimming Champion won, at various races, a gold medal, gold watch and chain, a set of hair brushes, a walking stick, silver jam dish and spoon and other table articles. The jewellers often gave trophies in those days. My sister, Effie, who was the Women's Champion of Nelson for a number of years, got some lovely things, including a pair of opera glasses and a gold chain bangle.</p>
<p>I was die eleventh child of the family and all but one, die eldest, Kate, were good swimmers. My sister Effie won many events, particularly breast-stroke. She was a well-built girl and could stand up to the others well. Gertie and Rachel also won school races in their time.</p>
<p>Of the seven sons, I only remember the three older than myself, as far as swimming goes, Cyril, Howard and Elliott The latter was champion of the Nelson Amateur Swimming Club and won a gold medal and a silver cup for diving at Sunday Hole, just above die bridge, where there was a deep hole and a good place for races.</p>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d6-pb3" n="24" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0026_024"/>
<p>
<figure xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0026_024a">
<graphic url="NHSJ05_04_0026_024a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0026_024a-g"/>
<head>Girlies' swimming hole, Maitai River. Jones Collection. Nelson Provincial Museum.</head>
</figure>
</p>
<p>My brother Howard had a good chase of a duck, let go at a swimming race near the Nelson slip, at the Port, in 1906, during the A.S.C. races. A yacht was anchored some distance out and the duck flew a short way and then dived under the yacht with Howard after it He caught it just as it surfaced, poor thing. He brought it home and fed it up, ready for Easter dinner. It must have had a weak heart and not been used to so much excitement and food, for it was found dead in its pen, the day it was to have had its head chopped off.</p>
<p>Going back to the days of my childhood, I remember my mother telling me that one day I pushed a button up my nose and Dr Jimmy Hudson had to come and take it out. He was a stocky little man with a small pointed beard, and rode a large horse. He evidently hurt me, and the first thing I saw was his beard, which I must have pulled hard as Mother said he called me a little demon.</p>
<p>In 1907, I left Brook Street School and went to Central School. There were many happy days ahead and many dud ones too. When a couple of chaps got annoyed with each other and a fight began, a crowd would stand around and cheer the contestants on. If the school bell rang before the fight was over, it was arranged between the parties to finish the fight after school.</p>
<p>Long before I went to Central School, the "fighting ground" was on Church Hill under a very large fir which still stands to this day. There was a bank on the western side of the tree, near the church, facing Nile Street East, with a good flat piece of ground around it We got out of school at 3.30pm, if we didn't have to stay behind and write 100 words. The fight was a big event and I can see the boys running in a stream, up to the Church Hill, along Nile Street, and straight up the asphalt path between the two large gum trees. These are now both gone and the path is lawn. One or two boys were placed at a spot along the path to the fighting ground. They had to keep calling out "chook chook" to those that wanted to see the fight and that spurred them on to see the "kill". A lot of blood was spilt in that place over the years, until another place was found.</p>
<p>In 1907, Rona Hamilton came to see my mother and asked her if she would let me go camping with a few of the boys and girls, during our school holidays. Her mother, Mrs Fred Hamilton, said <pb xml:id="t1-body1-d6-x32-pb1" n="25" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0027_025"/>if I could not go, then they were not allowed to. I was the "head man" (chaperone) according to Rona's mother!</p>
<p>Off we tramped to the Maitai whare Wyworry, with our packs, two tents and blankets. We did not need many, as it was summer time, one of the hottest summers for many years in Nelson.</p>
<p>We spent most of the days swimming in the lovely bathing hole at the back of the whare. We cooked our meals outside and slept in our tents, which were about 20 yards apart. They were a grand bunch of kids to be with. I was the eldest, at 14. We cut manuka scrub for our beds and laid it on the ground, with a sack or two on top, and a blanket</p>
<p>As far as I remember, those who came were Jeff Shallcrass, Fred Hamilton, Rona and Turepa Hamilton, Edith Robertson and her brother Oswald, Elsie Hamilton and myself.</p>
<p>While we were in the river one hot day, we saw smoke rising high up, near Pole Ford, a quarter of a mile further on, so it was a rush to put on our clothes and see what was happening. To our horror, we saw that the lovely bush was on fire. The undergrowth was very dry, so the fire made a clean sweep of the beauty spot. We never found out how it happened. Perhaps campers left a fire going. It took years to grow more seedlings, but eventually the bush took shape again and now (1965), you would never guess there had been a fire.</p>
<p>We camped amongst the manukas, which were about about 4 feet high in 1907. Today some of those manukas are still growing and are 30 feet high. Long poles, with tufts of growth on top, a place for wild pigeons to nest and other small birds. You hear the mockers calling in the early hours, and one, which seems to have been there many years, which calls out 1,2,3,4. The call must have been handed down for many years to the young ones.</p>
<p>We would often go down to the Grayling bathing hole, now known as the camping ground. There were only three families living in the Maitai when we were kids. The Dolomores, at the head of the Maitai, not far from the Forks, Jimmy Smith, with his wife and family, at Smith's Ford, and Sharlands, at the head of the creek which flowed into the Maitai near Almond Tree Flat. There were various whares scattered about the valley, used only for a week or two in winter and a longer time in summer. Hounsells were near Grayling, on the other side of the river. Routs were on the same side, but near the waterfalls. On the road side was Roger's whare, which was later bought by Doctor Tatton, then Maud Harley's brother had it, and then the sisters owned it.</p>
<p>On the other side of the river, Sherwood's whare stood on the flat and there was a good bathing hole there. The house belonged to several men, and it had been arranged at the beginning that the last man living could claim the house and land. Mr Arthur Shallcrass, the father of Jeff, claimed it. He left it to Mrs Bettry, his oldest daughter.</p>
<p>The old road went past this whare. Hamilton's was beyond, over the river. Tatton's and Sherwood's were just before the bend, before the stretch to Pole Ford. There was no proper road to Pole Ford in those days, only a walking track to the foot bridge. The horse wagons used to go across the river, just below where the track started, near the black birch trees on the roadside today. The track went as far as the bend in the river, just above the present Pole Ford.</p>
<p>Ned's Creek, which flows over the road between Pole Fork and Dad's Creek, is a very pretty spot, with huge rocks, ferns and trees on the banks. A dolly pot used by a goldminer was found, by Fred Shallcrass, son of Jeff Shallcrass, near the mouth of Dad's Creek one day, while he was fishing for trout. It is at the Museum now. He gave it to me and I passed it on to the Historical Society about 1956.</p>
<p>Mr Jimmy Smith drove a log wagon to Nelson from the Maitai at least once a week, to take firewood and timber to the mill in Nelson and load up with provisions and a bottle or two of beer! He was a grand old man, we youngsters thought, and would give anyone a ride up the Maitai. After leaving the Prince Albert Hotel, he would doze off and the horses knew the road better than he did. There was a ford to cross the Maitai, just past Wainui House, around the corner past the willows, and a good pull up the other side on to the road, at the corner of Tory Street, close to the foot bridge.</p>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d6-pb4" n="26" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0028_026"/>
<p>The next bend in the road was at Huddleston's, the artist, who had a large house, with several walnut trees overhanging the road, much to our delight. We got away with a lot, but Miss Huddleston was always around the corner with stick. We thought, as the nuts were on the road, we were allowed to claim them. But not her!</p>
<p>There were many fords to cross before Jimmy got home, often late at night, and the horses trudged along at a slow pace all the time and never went off the road. I remember one of the last drives I had with him, when he hardly touched the reins all the way home. He fell asleep and the horses did the rest. They were two lovely animals.</p>
<p>Not far from Almond Tree Flat, there is a portion of the road that has stones banked up on either side, to keep the flood waters off the road. It is still there, but the road was moved nearer the hills some years ago, so that the old part is not used. It is near Sullivan's Slip, before you come to the camping ground. Many years ago, before I was born I think, Mrs James Smith died at the house near Smith's Ford and there was such a large flood in the river, the family were not able to get to Nelson, so they had to dig a grave above the road, opposite the house, and bury her up there. We, as youngsters, often looked over the wooden fence, perched on the hillside.</p>
<p>About 1899, in the Xmas school holidays, I was sent to spend a few weeks at Riwaka with friends of my parents, Mr and Mrs John McLean. What grand days those were. I was taken to Kaiteriteri in the big wagonette with two horses. Hubert, the eldest son of John MacLean, was on the farm. He milked many cows each morning, and took the milk to the butter factory, in a low cart with one horse. Large milk drums or cans, with a handle at both sides, were used. On the way home again, the cans were over-flowing with froth from the vats at the factory. The skim milk was for the pigs and the froth soon disappeared.</p>
<p>I was taken to Canaan on the Takaka Hills for a week, as Hubert's father had property there and we were going to cut cocksfoot for seed. A fly was erected and the long grass cut with a reaphook. The bundles were placed on sacks on the ground. Then a stick was cut from a sapling and a piece of rope tied round it, for a handle. This flail was used to beat out the seed, under the fly.</p>
<p>We camped in tents at night, amongst the lovely bush. Woodhens made funny noises when it was dark and, if we were not on the look-out, they would pinch our soap or spoons. Lots of tiny birds, in the early mornings and during the day, flew about us. The bush robin, tiddlewink and bush wren were plentiful. While I stayed there I did not have much to do. I met Mr and Mrs Fred Huffam and Gerard his brother and young Bill. We had great fun, Bill and I. One day Mr Huffam, Uncle Fred we called him, took me to find moa bones. That was the thrill of my life. We went to many large holes and a lovely cave. One hole, which had a fuchsia growing over it, was very deep, so Uncle Fred got bullock chains and tied them together. He and I lowered ourselves to the bottom and then had to crawl on hands and knees, dragging a sack. Several good specimens of bones were found. I do not know how far we crawled, but it was mostly flat, and a bit knobbly with the limestone on the floor. We had a job getting back to the surface, where we emptied our bags. I had the lower jaw of one moa, about 8 inches long, and several gizzard stones and leg bones about two feet long. When I took these home to Nelson, my brother said we would be able to have some moa bone soup! It did not appeal to me to boil those bones, so I hid them under a house next to our's in Nile Street East. When I went for them later, before we moved from there, I was surprised to find them gone. I scratched away the earth and discovered, to my disappointment, that under the house was a deep cellar, so the moa bones were once more under ground. About 60 years later, that same house was up for sale and when the owner was showing me over the place, we came to the stairs. I looked for the door and he said there was not one and wondered how I knew about it I told him the story about the bones and he looked as if he didn't believe me. The house still stands, so my old friends, the bones, may still be resting in peace.</p>
</div>
<div decls="#text-7-bibl" xml:id="t1-body1-d7" type="chapter">
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d7-pb1" n="27" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0029_027"/>
<head>
<hi rend="c">
<title level="a">
<name key="name-444320" type="work">Courageous Coastal Captain</name>
</title>
</hi>
</head>
<byline>
<name key="name-444300" type="person">Jack Andrews</name>
</byline>
<p>Coastal and riverboat officers and crews, the lifeblood of New Zealand in pioneer days, were a hardy lot. Charlie Bonner was typical of the colourful breed. A friend of the family, he was a favourite visitor to my mother, as he made such a fuss of "Annie's little girl".</p>
<p>Phoebe, my mother, told how she would hear him singing, long before he opened the gate. The rolling walk up the path, accentuated by a beautiful ballast of booze, was followed by a hug, a kiss, and some present for the little one. One day it was a sulphur-crested white cockatoo, making one think of "Treasure Island", and Long John Silver. I still have a photo of this bird, taken by Chas Chinn, Grove Road, Blenheim.</p>
<p>Little Phoebe's stepfather, Blenheim saddler Frank Nosworthy, could not bide the bird. This was understandable, as it had happily pecked out patches in the new lino and it squawked at him whenever he appeared. Phoebe took her pet over to make friends, placing him on Frank's hand, which no douht shook. Polly lost his balance and grabbed Frank's nose with his beak. Frank pulled his hand down, leaving the bird swinging. Mother declared that Polly did not bite, but one beak successfully skinned one nasal organ, as it slid down, leaving one cursed cocky, a flapping phoebe, and a sad saddler.</p>
<p>As a lad, Charles Bonner spent a lime on the goldfields, but the majority of his life was spent at sea.</p>
<p>
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<graphic url="NHSJ05_04_0029_027a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0029_027a-g"/>
<head>Polly, the sulphur-crested cockatoo, james Chinn. Frank Andrews.</head>
</figure>
</p>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d7-pb2" n="28" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0030_028"/>
<p>In the year 1866, the West Coast town of about 4000 inhabitants called the Pakihis, was cut off by bad weather and the people were starving. Captain Charles Bonner, then about 27 years of age, became aware of their plight. Against all advice, he loaded his small ship, Constant, with food and, with a volunteer crew, braved the storms and managed a miracle in entering the small harbour, now known as Constant Bay. There the starving people, many also with diarrhoea, met the gallant ship with cheers and tears.</p>
<p>To prevent people gorging and killing themselves, Captain Bonner had to post guards and ration the supplies out. The Coasters' big disappointment was that he had only packed in food, and there was not one bottle of grog.</p>
<p>The grateful population not only later gave Charlie a presentation, but changed the name of their town to Charleston, which it remains to this day, though it's only a ghost of the bustling mining town of Charlie's time.</p>
<p>When next passing through Charleston, take time to look at the rugged, rocky coast. Imagine the great rollers crashing ashore, and remember that the Constant did not have a motor, but relied entirely on sails for propulsion and steerage.</p>
<p>For some time Captain Bonner was captain of ships in which Brownlees, the well known Marlborough sawmillers, had an interest or owned. One of these was the ketch Clematis, which in 1878 won a race in Wellington Harbour. Another was the 90 ton, three masted scow Eunice, carrying timber from Havelock to Lyttelton. Prior to that, we read of Captain Charles Bonner trading out of Manukau.</p>
<p>On leaving the sea, he was appointed manager of the Wellington "Sailors Rest", a position he held until it closed.</p>
<p>Captain Charles Bonner, at the age of 72, died two days after being admitted to Wellington Hospital on 3 August 1913.</p>
<p>Captain D Bonner, master of the steamer Awaroa, until she was put out of commission, was his son. His grand daughter, Isabel Lee-Guard of Nelson, recorded part of this story in the Nelson Evening Mail of 10 September 1966.</p>
<p>Besides the photo of the cockatoo, I also have a photo of the Captain's daughter, Gertie. This was by Wrigglesworth &amp; Binns, Wellington, Christchurch and Dunedin.</p>
</div>
<div decls="#text-8-bibl" xml:id="t1-body1-d8" type="chapter">
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d8-pb1" n="29" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0031_029"/>
<head>
<hi rend="c">
<title level="a">
<name key="name-444321" type="work">Country Living in the 1920's</name>
</title>
</hi>
</head>
<byline>
<name key="name-443315" type="person">Jeff Newport</name>
</byline>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d1" type="section">
<head>
<hi rend="c">The Local Store</hi>
</head>
<p>The local storekeeper who sold groceries is now a figure in history.</p>
<p>It is so easy, in our modern consumer society with Supermarkets and pre-packaged foods, to forget that this is a development of the postwar years. The cash economy has brought many changes.</p>
<p>Many of us, especially those from country districts, remember the grocer who sold a great variety of merchandise.</p>
<p>He really conducted a local trading post, buying in such things as eggs, buuer and sheepskins. There was little specialisation and, as well as groceries, such items as footwear, clothing and farm necessities were available for sale.</p>
<p>The storekeepers received their supplies in bulk, with sugar in 70 pound (32kg) jute bags, while flour arrived in 100 pound (45kg) calico bags. Flour could also be bought in 200 pound (90kg) sacks. For those customers who required flour of sugar in smaller quantities, these items were weighed out into brown paper packets. Many customers bought by the bagful.</p>
<p>
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<head>Country store. Stewart Collection. Nelson Provincial Museum.</head>
</figure>
</p>
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<div xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d2" type="section">
<head>
<hi rend="c">Bags and Sacks</hi>
</head>
<p>In the now unbelievably hard times between the two World Wars, when depression and then slump conditions prevailed, there were great problems for much of the country's population. But it was a 'Waste not want not' society, so the empty flour and sugar bags were washed and made up into a great variety of articles. As the flour bags were made of good quality calico, it was a really good material for clothing and household purposes. They served as pillowcases, tea-towels, <pb xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d2-x2-pb1" n="30" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0032_030"/>aprons, tablecloths and, Joined together, as sheets. Sugar bags came in for an even greater variety of uses on the farm, in the garden and in the home. After being washed, they could be used for making many different articles. Some of the women's groups had competitions, where people displayed things which they had made from the bags. These included aprons, towels for drying feet, kits, kneeling mats and so on. Oatina (porridge meal) bags were like fine linen. When washed and crocheted round the outside, they made lovely handkerchiefs.</p>
<p>The re-use of sacks and bags was normal practice on the farms. The writer grew up in a country district which was not a particularly prosperous mixed farming area. Times were hard but, when motor transport became available to and from the railway, farmers grew many acres of potatoes, which were railed to the city merchants. Grain sacks were used to hold the potatoes and held about 200 pounds (90kg). The full bags were not easy to manhandle. I was involved in a country carrying business and handled thousands of them. A change came after World War II, when fertiliser bags were available. These did not hold as much and were far easier to handle. A further development was the use of Cental bags, an overseas product. Originally intended to hold 100 pounds (45kg) of corn, they had been used in this country for handling bulk vegetables. They held 55 to 60 pounds (say 26kg) of potatoes and were easy to handle.</p>
<p>With the use of smaller bags, potatoes were often sold to retail outlets, or direct to householders. Sugar bags were a similar size and, until they became scarce, were the usual containers. Multiwall paper bags are now in regular use right from the grower to the consumer.</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d3" type="section">
<head>
<hi rend="c">Kerosene and Petrol Tins</hi>
</head>
<p>Sometimes on TV, or in magazines, we sec pictures taken in Third World countries of people carrying water in four gallon tins, sometimes balanced on their heads. It would scarcely be a comfortable load, but possibly the people in such places do not have wire to make handles.</p>
<p>With the fairly general use of plastic products, including buckets, it is hard for people to visualise the old square kerosene and benzine tins.</p>
<p>Before electric power was introduced, kerosene was in fairly general use for house lights. When petrol became an everyday requirement, it also was sold in tins.</p>
<p>Country stores kept limited petrol stocks to supply their clients. Motorists travelling long distances normally carried additional petrol but, unfortunately, some drivers just discarded their empty tins at the side of the road. As well as being unsightly, they sometimes caused accidents. Horses would take fright when they saw the strange shiny articles, which reflected the sunlight.</p>
<p>There was soon a surplus of tins and, naturally, they were put to many uses.</p>
<p>The old square buckets were very much in evidence around homes, in gardens, and on the farms. When used for milk buckets, wise people ran solder round the inside seams, to make them quite sterile, while some tins were cut down to a lower height, for feeding calves. One of the most obvious uses was for carrying water and, when potatoes were picked up by hand, what better container than a bucket. Contract picking of green peas was paid for at the rate of so much a bucketful. The tomato growers picked their fruit into buckets. Raspberry growers painted inside the tin buckets, which were used to collect the fruit from the smaller containers carried by the pickers. On farms, tins were used for the rendered down fat from the home killed mutton sheep. Country stores bought the full tins at prices which varied at different times, from say five shillings, down to one shilling.</p>
<p>The sheet metal from the tins was also used for a great variety of purposes. Sheds were sometimes walled with flattened out sheets of tin and, where a wall was tarred, it lasted fairly well, but otherwise it soon rusted badly. It was not a lasting material for roofs, but was an easy material to work with, and could be made into many different usable articles for house and workshop, including bowls and trays.</p>
<p>Tins cut in half lengthways were used as seed boxes in nurseries, and plants such as tomatoes were often sold in these containers. When my own people were buying their bulk supply of petrol in cases of two tins each, we saved the tins and sold them to the State Forest Service for one shilling <pb xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d3-x9-pb1" n="31" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0033_031"/>each, for use in their nurseries. Possibly one of the more unusual practical uses, was filling tins with concrete, to produce lasting piles when house building. Tins were not particularly good for toilet purposes and, when used for dunny buckets, they soon rusted out.</p>
<p>It is correct to say that many good uses could be made of what was an otherwise waste product. Perhaps one could make some comparison with modem times, when we see the great many uses that oil drums are put to. Necessity may be the mother of invention, but the convenience of a readily available article leads to invention.</p>
<p>Unlike plastic, tins did not lead to the waste disposal problem that we now have, as they were easily crushed down flat, and rusted away in a few short years.</p>
<p>Country stores installed petrol pumps when bulk petrol was introduced, but this meant that the pumps were locked when the stores closed up. Some storekeepers could be persuaded to supply out of hours, if the need was urgent. Eventually, country hotels also installed petrol pumps.</p>
<p>When the petrol came in tins there was not a great deal of competition, but the big companies each turned out a cheaper grade. Shell, who also supplied Big Tree, had Power in petrol, while Vacuum supplied Kalif, in addition to their high grade Plume brand. Of course, motorists had their own preferences. The Tadmor store had one of the few Big Tree bowers, and one man drove past the Shell and Plume pumps to buy Big Tree at Tadmor. He believed that his car ran better on that brand!</p>
<p>As time went along, Atlantic and other brands appeared and competition became more keen.</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d4" type="section">
<head>
<hi rend="c">Store Vans</hi>
</head>
<p>Store vans, four-wheeled vehicles pulled by two horses, travelled round the valleys making weekly visits to peoples' homes. The travelling storeman carried most essential requirements to supply to customers, and bought the eggs, butter and other thing which people had to sell. Sheepskins were loaded on the rack on top of the van, while poultry cages were slung underneath.</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d5" type="section">
<head>
<hi rend="c">Butter</hi>
</head>
<p>The farms were small in our district, so there was a variety of activities. Most folk hand milked a small herd of cows and provision of fresh milk and butter was an aid to the rearing of healthy families. My own folk owned a small, hand-turned Alpha Laval cream separator, but some neighbours used the wide milk pans to set the milk and then skimmed the thick cream, when it rose to the surface. We also had a small steel chum, which rotated at speed when turned with a handle. There was a beater inside, but I do not remember whether it turned in the opposite direction to the chum, or stood still. We used to like to have a drink of fresh buttermilk, when this was drained off the butter. The fresh butter had to be worked, to get all the buttermilk out, and then the right amount of salt worked into it.</p>
<p>The butter would be weighed either in single pounds (.454kg), or in a lump of greater amount, say ten pounds (4.536kg) or more. The pounds were wrapped in paper, while the larger lumps were wrapped in muslin. I well remember my mother being very hurt when the store owners sent out a letter to their suppliers, to say that some butter was under weight. My poor mother was scrupulously honest and always put a little extra on the pat as she weighed the butter out. The return for all this work was only a few pence per pound, but it was done to counter the cost of our household requirements.</p>
<p>Sometimes butter had to be kept for use through the winter. There was no refrigeration and extra salt was added, which enabled it to keep for some months.</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d6" type="section">
<head>
<hi rend="c">Home Remedies</hi>
</head>
<p>Every household kept a number of different medicines and remedies for most ordinary problems. One thinks of Senna leaves for Senna Tea, of Castor Oil, Perry Davis Painkiller, Epsom Salts, Kruschen Salts, Beecham's Pills, De Witt's Pills, Aspros, Lane's Emulsion, Bonnington's <pb xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d6-x2-pb1" n="32" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0034_032"/>Irish Moss, Doan' s Ointment, Vaseline, Cuticura Ointment, the list goes on and on. No doubt there were plenty more preparations for home treatment of all ills. With no local doctor or chemist, people did their own prescribing. The local stores would be required to keep a large stock of their requirements.</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d7" type="section">
<head>
<hi rend="c">Soap</hi>
</head>
<p>No doubt there were many different brands of soap available, but the two that I best remember were Lifebuoy and Sunlight. Soap was also sold in long bars. I remember that my Mother always used St Mungo powder for her copper washing.</p>
<p>From time to time, a supply of home made soap was boiled up in the copper. Freshly rendered down tallow was readily available on the farms, where mutton was butchered on the premises. This tallow became the main ingredient, but folk had recipes to tell them what other ingredients to use to produce a satisfactory product. I haven't a recipe to refer to, and the only ingredients which I remember were borax and caustic soda, obtained from the store. After boiling, the mixture was cut up into bars and squares, while still warm. When kept, it became very hard and was not suitable for personal washing, but was ideal for scrubbing and various other purposes.</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d8" type="section">
<head>
<hi rend="c">Home Butchering</hi>
</head>
<p>On the farms we were used to seeing the butchering done at home and even looked forward to the pig killing, which produced bacon. Of great interest, on the occasional trips to town, was seeing the butcher's shops with carcasses hanging up. Customers chose the joint of roast they wanted, and the butcher then cut it off on his large wooden block.</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d9" type="section">
<head>
<hi rend="c">Bread</hi>
</head>
<p>The weekly baking was one of the routine jobs for the homemaker, but it was a job which took a great deal of time. A really lengthy process produced good bread. Experience was required to know the right temperature to get the dough to rise and just when to punch it up again and put it into the tins for baking. Fortunately, we had a brick oven, which was heated by a wood fire inside. When sufficiently heated, the fire was drawn, the filled tins were slid in, and then the door was closed and sealed with clay mud. As far as I can remember, it took about one hour to cook the bread and there was a wonderful smell when the oven door was opened.</p>
<p>People made their own barm, as the yeast, or leaven, was called, which induced the dough mixture to rise. Hops bought from the store and potatoes were used in the process, and each week some barm was kept to get the next mixture to mature. My mother normally had two bottles filled, with the corks tied down very firmly with string. Sometimes one bottle would work too well, blow the cork, and the mixture would froth up and waste. Why did these bottles always choose to blow, with a loud bang, in the middle of the night?</p>
<p>A wonderful change took place when cakes of compressed yeast came on the market, and could be obtained from the storekeepers.</p>
<p>Eventually, baker's bread was delivered to most folk who were not too isolated. At first by horse vehicle, and later by motors. The loaves at that time weighed the full four pounds (1.814kg), but they were not wrapped. Wrapped bread is a much more recent development, made much easier with the adoption of light plastic bags. Ready-sliced bread was not available prior to their use.</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d10" type="section">
<head>
<hi rend="c">Fowls</hi>
</head>
<p>There was always a flock of fowls, which ran loose, which lead to the problem of finding the eggs. Our home rested on river boulders for piles and fowls sometimes laid their eggs underneath. One of the worst things I had to do was to crawl under and find the eggs. I was rather a bulky lad and it wasn't always easy to get under the bed plates of the house foundations. Sometimes, I seemed to be stuck getting through and naturally I howled. It is only correct to say that I developed a phobia <pb xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d10-x2-pb1" n="33" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0035_033"/>about confined spaces and, although I have been in caves and mines over the years, I have never felt comfortable about it.</p>
<p>It was easy to tell the fresh eggs from those which were not. The good eggs were sold to the storeman at so many pence a dozen, but it was never a great price.</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d11" type="section">
<head>
<hi rend="c">Household Water Supply</hi>
</head>
<p>To collect water for household use, most homes had a red iron tank, with a capacity of four hundred gallons (1,818 litres), to store the rain water which drained off the roof. These square tanks, which were in general use, came into the country as safe containers for the shipment of crockery, or other fragile imports. As well, most homes had a hand operated lever pump, to lift water from an underground well, Even when a few odd windmills dotted the countryside, the red tanks were still in evidence.</p>
<p>With no running water, it was natural that bathing took place in a large oval tub, which was moved into the house for the occasion. Water had to be specially heated for the purpose, but bath time in front of a winter fire was quite an event. There may have been a mineral deficiency in our district's water, as many of us had rotten teeth as children.</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d8-d12" type="section">
<head>
<hi rend="c">Boots</hi>
</head>
<p>As children, most of us walked to school on gravel roads, which meant having to wear boots, although we preferred bare feet in summer. The country storekeepers always stocked boots, but usually we each had one pair at a time, as we soon grew out of them. With the gravel roads and muddy playing grounds, the boots got pretty grimy, but these same boots had to be cleaned and blacked on Saturdays, to be ready to wear to Sunday School or Church on Sundays. There were two brands of blacking available, Radium and Nugget, and we always used Radium polish.</p>
<p>My folk were never well off, but they lived simply, paid their way, and provided us with a stable, Christian home.</p>
</div>
</div>
<div decls="#text-9-bibl" xml:id="t1-body1-d9" type="chapter">
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d9-pb1" n="34" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0036_034"/>
<head>
<hi rend="c">
<title level="a">
<name key="name-444322" type="work">Nelson Society as Shown in Presbyterian Marriage Registers</name>
</title>
</hi>
</head>
<byline>
<name key="name-444251" type="person">Helen Whelan</name>
</byline>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d9-d1" type="section" n="Nelson Society as shown in Presbyterian Marriage Registers">
<p>Presbyterian marriage registers, which commence in 1853, tell us something of Nelson society. This is only a small sample, and other studies of marriage characteristics in New Zealand have been conducted on larger samples. It is possible to make some comparisons, however.</p>
<p>The first surviving register of the Nelson Presbyterian Church commences with the following entry:</p>
<p>On 3 February 1853 John Francis <hi rend="c">Lake</hi>, a shoemaker and a bachelor of full age, married Mary Jane Jeffrey <hi rend="c">Durrant</hi>, an underage spinster. Mr T.D. Nicholson married them at the residence of <hi rend="c">R.J. Durrant</hi> of Milton St. The witnesses were Robert Jeffrey <hi rend="c">Durrant</hi> and James <hi rend="c">Hargreaves</hi>.</p>
<p>In the following fifty years, there are 615 marriages recorded in Nelson's Presbyterian Marriage Registers. This averages one per month, but they occurred quite irregularly, as in 1857 there were no marriages at all, whereas in 1867 the number was 25.</p>
<p>Three ministers conducted the marriages over the fifty years. They were the Rev. T.D. Nicholson [1849–1857], Rev. Patrick Calder [1857–1891] and Rev. J.M. McKenzie [1892–….], with a very occasional ceremony conducted by another minister.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, Mr Calder's writing is often difficult to read, making spelling of names uncertain. Sometimes the register is completed solely by the minister, while on other occasions, the signatures of the participants are there. When this happens, we can see which grooms and brides could not write and had to sign by using their mark – X. Also, it is useful to see how the bride and groom spelled their own name, which is not always the same as the minister's version. The spelling of the name may still be uncertain, as some participants appear to be able to do little more than trace their own name. Some of the young women acting as witnesses describe their status as "spincer", rather than "<unclear>spinser</unclear>". As time passed, the level of literacy rose and there were more fluent writers. Then the opposite problem occurred, when clerks used so many flourishes that the names became illegible once more.</p>
<p>The extent of entries in the registers is determined by different "Marriage Acts". In 1880, a new Act resulted in much fuller information being recorded. The first marriage after this new Act came in to force gives the following information:</p>
<p>On 13 Oct 1880, Charles Henry <hi rend="c">Dement</hi> born in Adelaide, a 26 year old bachelor of Hardy St, bricklayer, married Ann Watson <hi rend="c">Henry</hi> of Collingwood St. She was a spinster of 22, born in Aberdeen, a dressmaker. The parents of Charles were Wm <hi rend="c">Dement</hi>, another bricklayer, and Mary Ann <hi rend="c">Dement</hi> nee <hi rend="c">Samways</hi>. The parents of Ann were Archibald <hi rend="c">Henry</hi>, a steward, and Jessy <hi rend="c">Henry</hi> nee <hi rend="c">Milne</hi>. Witnesses were John <hi rend="c">Barr</hi>, a telegraphist and Elizabeth Alice <hi rend="c">Carr</hi>, a spinster.</p>
<p>Prior to 1880, the age is generally given as Full, and Under or Minor. For a few brides there is no age entry. Was the clergyman forgetful, or was the bride determined to keep it a secret? The most usual age for the groom was 24 and, for the bride, 21. Pickens, 1980, found the usual marriage age in Canterbury, for brides' first marriages in the 1850's, was 21. Later in the century it became 22. Canterbury brides, like the Nelson Presbyterian brides did not commonly marry before the age of 18. Very few grooms in the fifty year period are underage, only about 11, whereas about one quarter of the brides are. Some clusters of underage brides occur, for instance in 1853, 1855, and 1864. On the other hand, it is not unusual to find that the bride is slightly older. At other times there are many widowers and widows, was there an epidemic about two years previously?</p>
<p>The registers do not indicate whether parents were still alive at the time of the marriage, except where they clearly sign as a witness, or the ceremony is conducted in their own home.</p>
<p>Christian names show definite patterns, with John, William, Mary Ann, Mary Jane, Sarah and Elizabeth sufficient for a great proportion. "Gentlemen" often have several much grander names, <pb xml:id="t1-body1-d9-d1-x11-pb1" n="35" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0037_035"/>and one more creative family had given their daughter five Christian names-Olivia Rosina Blanche Maud Henderson Archibald. People of German origin often have three first names. Later in the period, it became more common to have two or more second names, frequently the mother's maiden name, or other surname is used.</p>
<p>In the whole fifty years, only one person is recorded as "legally divorced" and, in one other case, the husband had been missing 12 years, otherwise all were bachelors, spinsters or widowed. Among the 615 couples there are 68 widowers and 75 widows. Widows tended to be more numerous, due to men being killed in accidents such as horse accidents, river drownings, and other accidents and violence. By the New Zealand censuses of the 1880's and 1890's, the number of widows was considerably greater than widowers.</p>
<p>Marriages only occasionally took place in the Presbyterian Church, although the church in Nelson had opened in December 1849. The ceremony took place in private homes, sometimes the bridegroom's, sometimes the bride's, often a friend's house, or a hotel or sometimes the manse. Some were in the country, most were in the town. The minister's daughter is so often one of the witnesses, she could almost be called a professional witness. The ceremony might be in the home of the bride's parents but, in the early decades, this often was not the case. It seems the bride may have had no family in the town. By the 1880's, witnesses were much more likely to be of the family of the bride or groom than in earlier times.</p>
<p>The occupations of the grooms make interesting reading. Here are the most common occupations:</p>
<table>
<row>
<cell>Farmers 78</cell>
<cell>Sheep/flock owners/graziers 18</cell>
<cell>Blacksmiths 13</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Mariners 51</cell>
<cell>Clerks 16</cell>
<cell>Drapers/clothiers 13</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Carpenters/builders 47</cell>
<cell>Shoe/bootmakers/cordwainers 14</cell>
<cell>Painters 12</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Labourers 46</cell>
<cell>Butchers 14</cell>
<cell>Bakers 11</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Miners 20</cell>
<cell>Storekeepers 14</cell>
<cell>Engineers 10</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell/>
<cell/>
<cell>Carriers/carters 10</cell>
</row>
</table>
<p>Many others are given, and often there is only one example of these less common occupations. Occasionally there is a gentleman. The range of shopkeepers becomes much broader over the decades, with butchers and bakers early on and fancy types, such as confectioners, later. Then there might be an artist or vocalist. By the twentieth century, blacksmiths, wheelwrights and coopers became much fewer, and bootmakers became machine attendants. Overall, unskilled groups shrank and white collar workers grew. After 1900, when the occupation of the fathers is given, it often happens that the men of the bridal group, groom, parent and witnesses have a common occupation.</p>
<p>At first, no bride is assigned an occupation then, from September 1897, there is an occasional dressmaker, servant or teacher and just one "lady". From January 1900 most have an entry, such as household or domestic duties, with a few more dressmakers and an occasional shop assistant.</p>
<p>Some people are interested in the entries of the Marriage Registers as a source of details for the family tree. In addition, the pattern over the years shows interesting social trends regarding age of marriage, occupations, place of marriage and number of family involved in the ceremony. Wouldn't it be interesting if the register also had a photo of each wedding group?</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d9-d2" type="references">
<head>References</head>
<bibl>
<author>
<name type="person">Ault, H.F.</name>
</author> <title>Nelson Narrative</title>. <pubPlace>Nelson</pubPlace>, 1958.</bibl>
<bibl>
<author>Allan, Ruth.</author> <pubPlace>Nelson. Wellington</pubPlace>, 1965.</bibl>
<bibl>
<author>
<name type="person">Miller, R.S.</name>
</author> <title>Blue Banner.</title> <pubPlace>Christchurch</pubPlace>, 1959.</bibl>
<bibl>
<author>
<name type="person">Oliver, W.H.</name>
</author> &amp; <author>
<name type="person">Williams, B.R.</name>
</author> [ed.] <title>The Oxford History of New Zealand.</title> <pubPlace>Wellington</pubPlace>, 1981.</bibl>
<bibl>
<author>
<name type="person">Pickens, K.A.</name>
</author> <title>Marriage patterns in a nineteenth century British colonial population. Journal of Family History.</title> Summer, 1980.</bibl>
</div>
</div>
<div decls="#text-10-bibl" xml:id="t1-body1-d10" type="chapter">
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d10-pb1" n="36" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0038_036"/>
<head>
<hi rend="c">
<title level="a">
<name key="name-444323" type="work">Henry Handyside</name>
</title>
</hi>
</head>
<byline>
<name key="name-444099" type="person">Margaret Brown</name>
</byline>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d10-d1" type="section" n="Henry Handyside">
<p>In an unpublished thesis on the exploration of Nelson, J. D. Overton states that, in addition to the well-known journeys of men like Heaphy, Brunner, and Rochfort, much exploration was done by lesser known and forgotten men. Among others, he mentions Henry Handyside. Though his name does appear on a small bridge near the Hanmer turnoff, on the Lewis Pass road, few people would have any knowledge of who he was, or why his name should be there.</p>
<p>Henry Handyside left England after his father's death and arrived at Nelson, on the ship Persia, on 24 July, 1852. He was described as a surveyor and engineer. It is not known why he emigrated, nor why he came to Nelson. It seems that he spent some time in the Moutere district and, in 1856, he married a widow, Mrs Burnside, at St. Thomas Church, Motueka. About this time, he started working for the Nelson Provincial Government. He was in charge of the construction of the Picton-Blenheim road, a road skirting the swamp and crossing the dangerous Wairau River. A son was born in Picton in 1860.</p>
<p>The next we hear of his activities is the reports he sent to the Provincial Council, of his surveying work in the rough back country between Tophouse and Canterbury. A track between Tophouse and Hanmer had been established, but there was still much country to be surveyed. The source and direction of several large rivers, in particular of the Wairau, the Waiau and the Grey, had not been defined.</p>
<p>Travers, a lawyer and explorer, had named the Spenser Mountains and the Anne, Henry and Alfred Rivers. He, with surveyors Lewis and Maling, explored and named the Boyle River, which they thought flowed into the Grey. When they followed its tributary, the Lewis, they felt sure they had found the source of the Grey. The next year, Handyside was in the same area with Maling, and it was he who took Maling to the top of a high hill, from which they could see Lake Christabel and the Grey River flowing from it. The Boyle River turned and joined the Hope, and later the Waiau. During his time in the inland area, Handyside sent reports to the Provincial Council. These were printed in the Nelson Examiner and it was noted that the reports were accompanied by sketches of the various features. Overton, who visited the same area and took photographs, remarks on their accuracy.</p>
<p>The most important work that Handyside undertook, was the building of a bridge over the Waiau Gorge, near Hanmer. The South Island had been divided into provinces by drawing lines on a map, with no regard for the topical features, or the interests of the inhabitants. All the top of the South Island was in Nelson Province. The people of Amuri were demanding that some of the money they paid in rates to the Nelson Provincial Council should be spent in their area, on a bridge over the Waiau River. After much deliberation by the Council, the District Engineer, John Blackett, drew up a plan and specifications, and tenders were called. The successful tenderer was Handyside. It was a difficult task in those days. Getting the material to the site was the first hurdle. The bridge was built entirely of black birch timber, which was all shipped from Nelson to Salt Water Creek. It then had to be carted to the site by horse or bullock wagons. There were no proper roads and many unbridged rivers.</p>
<p>In spite of this, the bridge was built with no mishaps. In his history of the Amuri region, W. J. Gardner gives a full description of the early bridge and its building. It was what was called a 'horse bridge', to be used by pedestrians and horse riders. Wagons would still have to use the ford. It was completed in 1864 and was described as being a triumph both for its designer, Blackett, who later became New Zealand's Engineer in Chief, and for its builder, Handyside. It was sad that the bridge did not have a long life. One stormy night in November 1874, a nor' west gale blew the whole structure down the river. It was ten years before another bridge was started and another four before it was opened.</p>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d10-d1-pb1" n="37" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0039_037"/>
<p>
<figure xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0039_037a">
<graphic url="NHSJ05_04_0039_037a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0039_037a-g"/>
<head>Waiau Gorge Bridge constructed by Henry Handyside. 1864.</head>
</figure>
</p>
<p>Handyside made a model of the bridge. We read in the Nelson Colonist of 40 October 1864, under the heading Wai-au-ua Bridge: 'Mr Handyside, the builder of this light, large and graceful bridge over the Wai-au-ua River in this province, has just finished a beautiful model of the bridge which is to be sent to the New Zealand Exhibition in Otago. Steep banks of the river are shown and the great span and side works with jointings and boltings are exhibited in a miniature one fortieth the size of the actual structure. Every bolt, nut and screw, each iron knee and keeper fixed with molten lead into the solid rock and holding the timber firm, every spar of timber used in the bridge itself, has their parallel in this model.</p>
<p>The bridge itself, designed by Mr Blackett, Provincial Engineer, has a length of roadway from bank to bank of 320 feet and its breadth is 7 feet. The span of the arch above the river is 120 feet. The size of the model is one-fortieth of these dimensions, a minature horse of the same proportion to actual life is placed on the bridge and shows the great size of the building which consumed 30,000 feet of timber, 10 hundred weight of ironwork and one hundred weight of lead and cost the very moderate sum of 2,200 pounds. The model we venture to say will form one of the greatest ornaments of the Exhibition, besides being a most useful specimen of how to bridge New Zealand rivers.'</p>
<p>In the official catalogue the model is listed, also a painting by the artist John Gully of the bridge, and various other products of the Province. It is not known what became of the model, but the picture is in the Suter Gallery, waiting cleaning and restoration. For many years it hung in the old public library.</p>
<p>In 1866, Handyside was working with Blackett on a reservoir just below the Brook dam. This was never used, as it was cracked by an earthquake soon after it was finished, and it was found that the water supply was satisfactory without it. About this time, Handyside injured his elbow while working. He must also have displeased the Provincial Government in some way, as he was <pb xml:id="t1-body1-d10-d1-x11-pb1" n="38" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0040_038"/>dismissed and refused compensation. In the rather pathetic petition which he presented to the Provincial Government, he reminded them of his years of faithful service and, in particular, that he had saved them a thousand pounds in the building of the Waiau Bridge. The Council allowed the petition to 'lie on the table', but there was no other result.</p>
<p>In the meantime, Brunner had surveyed the Hampden (Murchison) township sections. These, and the surrounding farmland, were offered for sale. Most buyers were speculators, who did not settle in the area, but Grigg, in his book Murchison, notes that 'an early settler was Handyside who bought land in July 1866, 230 acres, to the west of the Matakitaki River, near its junctions with the Buller'. Here, Handyside intended to farm beef cattle, as there was a demand for it from a number of gold-diggers in the district.</p>
<p>Arthur Dudley Dobson, who was then doing country work for the Provincial Government, wrote in his Reminiscences that after the works in the Brook were finished "Handyside took his wife and family to the Upper Buller Valley where Murchison now is and commenced farming. I do not think he made good, for he turned his attention to mechanical invention, and patented an engine that was to revolutionise the present style of railways for new countries. The tracks were to be laid down on any road, irrespective of steep grades. On arriving at a steep grade, the engine was to go up the grade a suitable distance unwinding a wire rope from a drum attached to the engine, then on arriving at a good position, the engine was to drop two levers on to the road which fixed it firmly in position, whilst it wound up the rope, and dragged the train up to the engine. The brakes then being put fast in the train, the engine went on ahead again. How the train was to go down hill and how the rope was to be worked on a winding road, was all left to future development. However Handyside persuaded a few speculators to form a little company to patent the invention and to send him to England to get the plans taken up. He had a small engine constructed with the proposed fixing levers, and it was tested pulling trucks out of a gravel pit. Then unfortunately he contracted typhoid fever and died."</p>
<p>Dobson did not hear what happened to Handyside's wife and family, but there is an unconfirmed report that some of his family returned to New Zealand and settled in Auckland.</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d10-d2" type="section">
<head>Sources</head>
<bibl>
<author>
<name type="person">Dobson, A. D.</name>
</author> <title>Reminiscences</title>, 1930</bibl>
<bibl>
<author>
<name type="person">Gardner, W. J.</name>
</author> <title>The Amuri</title>, 1965</bibl>
<bibl>
<publisher>Nelson Provincial Council</publisher>. <title>Votes and Proceedings</title>
</bibl>
<bibl>
<title>N.Z. Industrial Exhibition</title>, 1865, <pubPlace>Dunedin.</pubPlace> Official Catalogue</bibl>
<bibl>
<author>
<name type="person">Overton, J. D.</name>
</author> <title>The process of exploration: Nelson 1841–1865.</title> Thesis, 1978</bibl>
<bibl>
<title>The Colonist</title>, <publisher>The Nelson Examiner</publisher>.</bibl>
</div>
</div>
<div decls="#text-11-bibl" xml:id="t1-body1-d11" type="chapter">
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d11-pb1" n="39" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0041_039"/>
<head>
<hi rend="c">
<title level="a">
<name key="name-444324" type="work">Gold Rush in Waiwhero</name>
</title>
</hi>
</head>
<byline>
<name key="name-444251" type="person">Helen Whelan</name>
</byline>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d11-d1" type="section" n="gold rush in Waiwhero">
<p>The Waiwhero was the site of the first Nelson gold rush in about 1854–55. In the early part of this century, the residents of the area had memories relating to the gold rush, and today there are still a few people who remember hearing about the event.</p>
<p>The site is more correctly described as Pangatotara, but the diggers had to approach by the Waiwhero Road, there being no road along the Motueka River, and they had some accommodation near the Waiwhero road. A short walk through bush and scrub took them to the little streams which drained into the Motueka River. The bigger Waiwhero Stream does not have gold in it but, just upstream, are the two little streams which do have gold. They cross the road by Durrant's farm, and are named Tin Pot Gully and Golden Gully or Durrant's Gully. I wonder how many Golden Gullies there are in New Zealand? Between these two streams is a ridge, which is the site of two shafts about one hundred feet deep and six by eight feet at the mouth. They are open now, but about 1910 a little boy nearly went down the shaft and at that time they were covered by rotting boards. There are other smaller excavations near the stream. The whole area is now part of Baigent's forest, with pines, manuka and scrub growing over it.</p>
<p>Few people recorded this particular gold rush. Judge Broad mentions the discovery of gold in the Motueka district in 1856, Nolan says gold was discovered in 1856 within seven miles of Motueka and towards the Batten (Baton). H.P. Washbourn says "about the year 1855 people were very much excited about gold digging, as the report of the richness of California followed by that to Australia made people very keen on the idea of finding gold… In that year there was a small rush to Motueka, gold having been found at Waiwhero, Ngatimoti way, but it was not in payable quantity, and they soon returned". Washbourn, who went gold digging in the Collingwood area at that same time, describes a gold rush as like a "large camping picnic with everyone in the highest spirits as if they had just come into a fortune or were just about to do so". The numbers who arrived at Tin Pot Gully are variously said to have been 150,300 or 500. As it is a very small area, it must
<figure xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0041_039a">
<graphic url="NHSJ05_04_0041_039a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0041_039a-g"/>
<head>Waiwhero, Motueka Valley.</head>
</figure>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d11-d1-x3-pb1" n="40" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0042_040"/>have been a very gay scene, with 500 men there in picnic mood. They soon moved on to better prospects in Collingwood and, later, the West Coast. Gold obtained in Tin Pot was fine gold. One who obtained gold here much later was Mr Adam Knowles, who lived on the edge of Tin Pot Gully on the family farm. His father, Joseph Dale Knowles, had bought the property about 1855/6 and, as he did not speak of any involvement in the gold rush, his family assume that it was over by the time of the purchase.</p>
<p>Raspberries were grown on the Knowles' properly and, in 1911, the pickers camped on the banks of the Tin Pot where, they noted, "gold was first found in Nelson province".</p>
<p>Washbourne describes diggers in the 1850's as wearing moleskin trousers, blue or red shirts worn outside the trousers, knotted capes with a peak hanging down the back, and finished off with sheath or bowie knives. The hair and beard were generally long and untrimmed.</p>
<p>Another local digger was a Mr Parsons, who lived in the remains of a gold digger's hut on what may have been the site of the original diggers' settlement, opposite the Waiwhero Cemetery. It was on a small flat, about a quarter of a mile from the Waiwhero Road, where there was a spring and some old walnut trees. About 1910, elderly Mr Parsons lived there, with his eight dogs. As the hut was not weatherproof, he actually lived in a tent inside the hut. His cooking was done in the remains of the corrugated iron fireplace, which was outside the tent, but under the remains of the hut. One day, as he was cooking his food in a frying pan, a visitor came by on horse-back. Grass sometimes grew inside the hut and the horse put its head in, looking for a mouthful.</p>
<p>A gust of wind blew the little half door, which caught the horse's neck. Thence started a tug of war between the horse and the hut, with Mr Parsons and his frying pan in a situation of some danger. Every time the hut rocked, Mr Parsons and his frying pan could be seen for a brief period, until the horse eventually freed itself and the hut stopped rocking. Mr Parsons did a little farming and grew raspberries, Victoria plums and a few old fashioned gooseberries, red and yellow and very sweet. This was not his main income, however. He had his gold ripple in Tin Pot Stream, to keep him in stores. Nobody was allowed to know the whereabouts of this gold. The eight dogs kept Mr Parsons company, and it appears that he was not a good housekeeper. Once a year, his niece from Motueka descended on the hut for spring cleaning. It took six months before poor Mr Parsons could find everything again. Two who farmed the area later, and maybe owned Mr Parsons' property, were Mr Jim Rankin and Mr Richards. A Mr Bannister owned the accommodation house for a time about 1910.</p>
<p>One further relic of the gold diggers was an old accommodation house, built of 12 inch wide pit sawn timber. It was sited by the Waiwhero Road, above and north of the stream, overlooking the cemetery. Apparently Mr Parsons and his father ran it, and it was still there about 1910. Rats had taken matches into its nooks and crannies and, because they were not safety matches, fires broke out. So many fires that the house was unsafe and had to be demolished. Since then, another house or houses have been built in front of the original one. Big oak trees mark the position of the accommodation house.</p>
<p>Today, the open shafts and a little gold in the streams are the remnants of a short and exciting period in the life of Motueka Valley.</p>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d11-d2" type="section">
<head>Sources:</head>
<bibl>
<author>Broad, L.</author> <title>The Jubilee History of Nelson.</title> <pubPlace>Nelson</pubPlace>, 1982</bibl>
<bibl>
<pubPlace>Greenwood</pubPlace>, <author>Miss Eleanor.</author> <title>Oral information</title>
</bibl>
<bibl>
<author>
<name type="person">Heath, E. E. H.</name>
</author> <title>Memoirs of <name type="person">F. H. Knowles</name>
</title>
</bibl>
<bibl>
<author>Knowles, E.</author> <title>Oral information</title>
</bibl>
<bibl>
<author>Nolan, Tony.</author> <title>Historic gold trails of Nelson and Marlborough.</title> Reed, 1976</bibl>
<bibl>
<author>
<name type="person">Salisbury, J. P.</name>
</author> <title>After many days</title>. <pubPlace>London</pubPlace>, 1895</bibl>
<bibl>
<author>Vickerman, Trix.</author> Dairy 1910/11</bibl>
<bibl>
<author>
<name type="person">Washbourn H. P.</name>
</author> <title>Reminiscences of early days.</title> <pubPlace>Nelson</pubPlace>, 1933</bibl>
</div>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d12" type="chapter">
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d12-pb1" n="41" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0043_041"/>
<head>Book Review</head>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d12-d1" type="section">
<head>
<hi rend="c">Footprints Farewell</hi>
</head>
<opener>
<salute>Footprints Farewell by Jeff Newport.</salute>
<address>
<addrLine>Published by Nikau Press, P O Box 602, Nelson.</addrLine>
</address>
<salute>Printed by Stiles Printing Ltd.</salute>
<salute>236 pages, illustrated $40</salute>
</opener>
<p>Footprints Farewell is the latest and, as author Jeff Newport has intimated, the last book in the highly acclaimed Footprints series, which has dealt with the history of the Nelson back country, primarily between the Waimeas and Lake Rotoiti. This well produced and illustrated history is, in reality, two books. In the first part, Jeff further develops the theme of the settlement of Nelson's hinterland. The remainder of Footprints Farewell presents the edited reminiscences of Alex Kerr, a member of a well known pioneering family, that did much to open up the country in the Motupiko and upper Buller valleys.</p>
<p>While Jeff continues the history of the back country settlements, the format is a little different. Instead of covering one or more districts in some detail, Jeff Newport has successfully, and in a straight forward manner, portrayed the major changes that have occurred over the past century. He shows how some of the major technological advances, such as the motor car and electricity, have profoundly altered the peoples attitudes and the way they live. By drawing on his wealth of knowledge and personal experience of the country, he illustrates theses changes.</p>
<p>One of the themes developed is improvements in transport, and how these led to the demise of the accommodation houses. These necessary establishments, each with its own character and resident characters, were widespread. They were situated at strategic locations along the barely adequate, and often muddy, main roads and byways, and also were the first buildings to appear in any new farming, mining or sawmilling settlement The advent of the internal combustion engine accelerated the need for better roads, which shortened the travelling time between localities, leading to the demise of the accommodation houses. The book describes some of these accommodation houses, and abounds with descriptions of the trials and tribulations of the early motorist. Also chronicled are more important, broader, social changes the motor age induced, by reducing the dependence of the settlers on their own resources.</p>
<p>The introduction of electricity is another major theme which Jeff develops. The demand for electricity, first in the towns and then, progressively, in country districts, saw the building of small hydro stations, from the Waihopai in Marlborough, to the biggest of them all, the Cobb Scheme in Northwest Nelson. The changes that electricity brought to domestic life were far reaching, but now commonly overlooked. Refrigerators, washing machines, electric stoves, adequate lighting at night and the radio, gave more time for leisure. However, more income was needed to pay for such things and, as a consequence, many small, subsistence farms, tucked away in side valleys, slowly disappeared. Time became an increasingly dominant factor in daily life. For example, during the era of the accommodation houses, anyone setting out on a journey was never sure how long it might take, because of weather or state of the roads or fords. This, being regarded as nothing out of the ordinary, was readily accepted. Now that we know, to within a short period of time, how long a trip should take, we soon become frustrated if, for any reason, it takes longer. With the increase in the pace of life we have, compared to our forbears, become more out of touch with ourselves, our neighbours and our environment.</p>
<p>While documenting these changes to the way we live, Jeff has not entirely abandoned his earlier approach to describing the country districts. In Footprints Farewell, he provides further information on Tapawera and the Motupiko Valley, districts he has much personal experience of. The upper Motupiko Valley is rich in history, being close to Tophouse. This great saddle in the main divide provided, prior to the present roading system, the most practical overland route between Nelson and the east and west coasts.</p>
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d12-d1-pb1" n="42" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0044_042"/>
<p>Within the upper Motupiko Valley is the once extensive Blue Glen Station, where Alex Kerr was born in 1912. Alex describes the everyday, but necessary chores, as well as the highlights and the personalities. The introduction of such things as electricity and the motor car, give added emphasis to the broader picture conveyed in the first part of Footprints Farewell. The two parts are therefore complementary and, although dealing with a diverse number of subjects, Jeff has avoided the pitfall of a disjointed account, all too common in a number of recent New Zealand histories.</p>
<p>The standard of publication is very high, it being a hard bound, well laid out volume, with easy to read type and high quality reproduction of figures. My only complaint is that more maps, showing the location of many of the places mentioned in the text, were not included. On a more positive note, however, is a good index. Whether to include references is always a vexed questions. For many, the inclusion of references makes the reading difficult and, considering the wide appeal of this book, this would have been a pity. For those wanting more information, the lack of such references can be frustrating. Unfortunately there is no easy answer, although some references are provided. With Jeff's reputation as a meticulous researcher, we are at least assured of the authenticity of the information given. Great credit must go to Barney Brewster of Nikau Press, who guided Jeff's manuscript into print Thanks must also be given to the printers, Stiles Printing Ltd of Nelson, for a very handsome finished product.</p>
<p>Finally we, and future generations, are profoundly in Jeff's debt, for he has recorded many details and facets of our history that were known to an increasing few. This has now been reversed and, consequently, Footprints Farewell will be a valuable reference book. No doubt, like its predecessors, it will soon be out of print and much sought after at auctions, or in secondhand bookshops.</p>
<closer>
<signed>Mike Johnston.</signed>
</closer>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d12-d2" type="section" n="image of Model T Fords being unpacked on Eckford's Wharf, Blenheim">
<p>
<figure xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0044_042a">
<graphic url="NHSJ05_04_0044_042a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="NHSJ05_04_0044_042a-g"/>
<head>Unpacking Model T Fords from wooden packing cases at Eckford's Wharf, Opawa River, Blenheim. 1915. Marlborough Historical Society Archives Collection.</head>
<figDesc>Unpacking Model T Fords from wooden packing cases at Eckford's Wharf, Opawa River, Blenheim</figDesc>
</figure>
</p>
</div>
</div>
<div xml:id="t1-body1-d13" type="chapter">
<pb xml:id="t1-body1-d13-pb1" n="43" corresp="#NHSJ05_04_0045_043"/>
<head>
<hi rend="c">Correction</hi>
<lb/>An Historical Waterwheel</head>
<p>We regret that, due to an editing error, several words were omitted from a paragraph in Jeff Newport's article in the 1989 Journal, Volume 2, No. 3. This changed the meaning of what followed, and we apologise for the concern this caused Mr Newport The paragraph in question should have read:</p>
<p>His son, Alan Price, now living in Motueka, suggested that the wheel was set up in this stream about 1917, but that it was not put to use. The concrete blocks, on which it was set, can still be seen near the road there. A smaller pelton wheel was procured, and this was installed in the creek, to provide electricity for the house. He told me that the wheel was sold to Theo McGaveston of The Gap, Pokororo, and he suggested that, although the farm had changed hands a few times, the wheel might still be there.</p>
</div>
</body>
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