Rambles on the Golden Coast of New Zealand/Chapter 4
MARTIN’S BAY.
CHAPTER IV.
HERE are a few memoranda—the shreds and patches of one’s recollections of Milford Sound—which must be disposed of before reference is made to the agreeable, and, it should be added, the practicable surroundings of Martin’s Bay. Those of us who had gone to gaze upon the waterfall, when satiated with the sight of it, crossed to the southern side of the basin in which the “Geelong” lay, and joined the others upon the delta formed by the outflow of the two rivers which fall into the Sound—the Arthur and the Cleddow. It was a trifling matter, but of the first objects which attracted our attention were some extraordinary footprints on the sandy beach. “Would that they were only the footprints of the Moa,” was the wish of the Barnum of the party, who would, no doubt, have dug them out, as proof-presumptive of the existence of the mysterious bird; but, unfortunately, they bore a striking resemblance to the marks which are made by the hoofs of a horse, only that they were of mammoth size. It was suggested that some poet who had come hither in search of the picturesque had here mounted his Pegasus, and that these were its footmarks as he took his last flight. The practical man had nothing better to say than that they were the marks of the “flippers” of a seal, and it is just possible that he was right. I do not believe he knew anything about it; but there was none of us competent to contradict him.
By the time we had a good look around this locality, waiting for those who had gone further and were faring worse, the eye became more accustomed to the grandeur of the scenery, and we could contemplate it with less of that shrinking, shuddering feeling, which instinctively overcame one when in closer proximity to the mountains, and in a position to realise more acutely their magnificent presence. This may sound extravagant, but there were some among us who were destitute of neither nerve nor pluck, and if I misrepresent the quality of their feelings in the presence of the surroundings of Milford Sound, they are quite at liberty to say so. My impression is that the opportunity was an excellent one for Superintendents or any one else realising their individuality, and ascertaining the relative proportions of themselves and the world at large. What I was saying was, that we could now look upon the scene more calmly. Yet it had not lost any of its elements of grandeur. There were mountains to the right, mountains to the left, mountains in front, mountains behind—I should not like to say where there were not mountains, for there were some of them almost above, overhanging with an attitude of impending vengeance which was almost as useful as going to confession. One of the quaintest forms was the peculiarly-peaked summit of the Mitre, standing to the westward, and sloping on the one side into the Sound, and on the other into a deep barren ravine, where the snow had slid to a level unusually low. The most attractive—and the one upon which the mind would dwell the longest, if the eye were only equal to the task—was Pembroke Peak itself, covered with a constant coating of snow, so brilliant under the mid-day sun as to dazzle the sight. From the snow-field near its summit there was an extensive slip, or glacier, if you like, which came down to a lower level than, with the intervening bush, we were capable of seeing. From the placid water in which the “Geelong” had anchored, and almost parallel with her funnel, a hill stood up more than 5000 ft. high.
Once or twice a dull rumbling sound was heard, like that of distant thunder, and we thought our hopes of a continuance of fine weather were to be disappointed. But the cause of the sound was discovered when it was repeated, for, before it reached our ears, some of us happened to notice the snow on one of the mountain-tops slipping from its place, and coming down the side with a velocity that made one wink again, until it settled on a broad terrace, and sent up a huge cloud of snowy spray. The sound produced by one of these, mistaken for the echo of the firing of the steamer’s gun, brought back Mr Wright and others who had gone up the river; and, as our time was up, we started to return to the anchorage of Anita Bay. Before doing so, we landed some of the Acclimatisation Society’s rabbits on the level ground between the rivers, with good wishes towards them and their multiplication; and it took us some time to pick up the anchor, for it had embraced a snag at the bottom of the Basin—a stout black pine, apparently recently deposited by the stream. We neglected to do one thing—to add a small record of our visit to the few other records carved on trees near Cemetery Point, or scratched on superannuated soup-and-bouilli tins, fixed at the same place.
As we steamed down the Sound, we could not but observe Harrison’s Cove as presenting an opening in the country towards Martin’s Bay; and I have ascertained, from those who visited Little Martin’s Bay (or Kaipo Bay of the map), that a valley extends from that place towards Milford Sound, with its probable termination at Harrison’s Cove. But Harrison’s Cove, or any other part of Milford Sound, I fear, is never very likely to become a harbour for loading and discharging shipping; although, perhaps, in the “high-faluting” mood in which one comes away from its scenery, it is scarcely safe to hazard that opinion. In the humour in which one writes, it would almost seem sacrilege for anything less than the “Great Eastern” to enter there.
It was almost dusk before the “Geelong” anchored in Anita Bay. This bay, though recognised as part of the Sound, is properly outside—the ante-room of its grand interior. The land which forms its shelter is a comparatively low peninsula, the outer projection of which is named Ann’s Point. The bay is a favourite anchorage with vessels running along the coast, when caught in a S.W. gale; but there must occasionally be a considerable “range” of sea, even within its shelter, the beach being steep. Its shelter would, apparently, be most deficient in a N.W. wind, but the Sound itself is not a bad, rather a better, substitute. The bay is well marked by a small island, or shrub clad rock at its outer extremity; and to this pinnacle we made one of our warps fast, while the other was passed ashore. We did not anchor, the soundings being rather deep, but it would have been well if we had done so, for, during the night, by some negligence of the watch, the steamer was allowed to drift shoreward before notice was given, and she grazed upon the rocks—not the most agreeable sensation, with the knowledge that there are ten or twenty fathoms of water close at hand—before steam was up, and Captain Hart was able to proceed to sea. In the evening, and before this happened, there was an eager rush on shore, for the possession of greenstone, which this beach has deservedly the credit of producing. Some came on board with their pockets full; others grumbling at their ill-luck. The greenstone, so far as we found it, is about the smallest of the shingle, and, although it is obtained readily enough, it is advisable for one to keep what he gets to himself, and not give it to his neighbour, as he may do so, and then search for the next two hours to discover that there is nothing green to be seen, except in his own organs of vision.
Next morning we were close to Martin’s Bay. In fact, we were rather past it, when we steamed in closely towards the shore and entered Big Bay instead. The outline of the land was not readily distinguishable, in consequence of a thick haze which overhung it, except to the southward, where the long lines of the snow-capped peaks, which form the surroundings of Milford Sound, were seen clear and sharp against the morning sky.
It is necessary that I should here introduce a diversion from the narrative of the proceedings of those on board the “Geelong.” This expedition had partly been undertaken in the knowledge, or in the belief, that there were some miners in Martin’s Bay, who had obtained gold, but who were without the absolute necessaries of life. There were only traces of miners having been in the neighbourhood when we landed; but it has since transpired that they were there even until a day or two before the “Geelong” arrived, and as the result of their sojourn on this part of the coast has been communicated to me by their companion and storekeeper, Mr R. Cleave, of Invercargill, it may be well to give his statement. We were not aware of the circumstances until after the return of the “Geelong” to Dunedin, Mr Cleave having arrived nearly about the same time; but his information communicates a complexion to the resources of the Martin’s Bay district which it is well to know, and it explains what were to us, at the time of our visit, merely matters of suggestion.
Mr Cleave states that, on the collapse of the diggings at the Haast, a party of eleven men, of whom he was one, proceeded to Big Bay. They arrived there about the end of June, this year, and it was determined by them to prospect the coast to the southward of Martin’s Bay, thinking it not worth their time to try the country north of the Awarua, as they were not informed of any one having previously obtained there any indications of gold. They were three weeks detained on shore, in consequence of severe weather, but, at the end of that time, they started in their whale-boat for the beaches to the southward of Martin’s Bay. The weather continued unfavourable, and, being unable to land, they ran for Milford Sound. For five weeks they were in and out of their shelter, endeavouring to beach their boat, but the weather continued unfavourable, and they were unable to do so. At length they managed to beach the boat, but in doing so they stove in three planks, and all their provisions were drenched with sea-water. The point at which they effected a landing was eight or nine miles southward of Martin’s Bay. A few days afterwards, four of the party with a week’s provisions, started to prospect the beaches towards Milford Sound; but on that occasion they found no gold in payable quantities. Four miles from where they landed, however, they found gold on the beach, and it was backed by sandy terraces which they intended to prospect; but the provisions they had with them did not enable them to remain, and they returned. As the general stock of provisions for the party began to run short, they tried to launch the boat, to proceed to Big Bay; but she again got stove. While thus detained, they found indications of gold immediately to the northward of the place where the boat lay; but there was no quantity of wash. Starting for Big Bay by the beaches, they returned with provisions and two men to assist in the launching of their boat; and, on their return, they prospected further into the terraces where they had previously got indications of gold, and there they obtained payable prospects. Getting the boat launched and despatched for provisions, they remained there and commenced to bring in a race, as they had succeeded in obtaining 4 ozs. of gold, washed out in a gin-case, during two days’ work. On the completion of the party, by the return of the boat from Big Bay, they finished the race, occupying three or four weeks in that part of their work, and, after it was finished, they worked for other three weeks. In that time they obtained 3 lbs. 2 ozs. of gold, and it then ran out. They had also exhausted all their provisions, but what was sufficient for one day. They prospected, sinking some holes four or five ft. deep in the immediate neighbourhood, but they could not remain. They re-launched the boat, returned to Big Bay, and after a fortnight’s detention there, they started north. During the whole time of their stay, the weather, except for a few weeks, made prospecting impossible. It has no necessary connection with the objects of this expedition; but, to complete their history, it may just be stated that, on their way north, they landed to the southward of Jackson’s Bay; that there they ascertained the circumstances of the drowning of Mr Marsden and the other man whose loss was recently recorded; that they supplied some of their stores to the family who were destitute, but who were disposed to stay there if they could only get provisions; and that they were subsequently picked up by the steamer “Kennedy” which had been despatched with relief to these people, and by her were brought on to Hokitika.
During the time that this party were prospecting to the southward of Martin’s Bay, another party of five were at work to the northward of Big Bay, and are understood to have had some good claims. Mr Cleave was also informed that they had other prospects which might induce them to return, and it is believed they had gone back overland to Big Bay. During their stay in the neighbourhood, this party had ascended to the head of Lake M‘Kerrow, and there, on the day on which we landed, we found some remnants of stores which they had left.
There was a wholesome and habitable look about the country in the vicinity of Martin’s and Big Bay’s, which was, to us, quite refreshing after the fatigue our sense of sight had undergone in gazing at the mountains which form almost the sole feature of the scenery further south. It is true that a somewhat deceptive haze hung over parts of the land; but there was enough visible, and there was plenty visible afterwards, to show that there was here a considerable stretch—many thousands of acres—of available country. Not country available, considered from a sheep-breeding, cattle-rearing, point of view, but country a great deal more available, and with an infinitely superior climate, to anything that the Pilgrim Fathers of the New England States, or the settlers of the Canadas ever realised; and these are not bad samples of colonies. For a timbered country it is also, by the qualities of its timber, and the comparatively open character of its bush, evidently superior to many of those parts of the West Coast which the discovery of gold has already populated; and, without getting excited over it, the venture may be made of saying that, while it is quite equal, in merits of its own, to other, and nominally greater, places on the East Coast, it has only to be attached to interior territory, if that is possible, when those greater places would have one other place to compare with them. Wellington, without the Wairarapa, would not be “a patch upon it.” Nelson, without its Wairau, would be as pretty, but no better. The matter to be solved is the possibility of its connection with an incomparably superior place of either of these—the Lake District of the Province of Otago. Those who ought to be some authority on the subject say that the establishment of such a connection is possible, and a considerable number of degrees within the barely possible. It is not a necessary sequence that, in the event of such communication being established, Martin’s Bay should become the outlet for the produce of that district, or the sole inlet of its supplies. But, connected, the one would re-act upon the other, and both would thrive the better in consequence of the connection. The deficiency of the place is its harbour; but even that deficiency is less in degree than is the deficiency of such harbours as the Hokitika or the Grey; and there is the most abundant shelter not far distant, while inside its bar there are facilities for inland communication for twenty-five miles for any steamer capable of entering the river. Of course it is a very important consideration, in comparing it with Hokitika, that there has not been discovered in its neighbourhood an extensive goldfield; but gold has been found, and in payable quantity, which, according to the West Coast estimate, and in such situations, is not a small one. It is the comment of those who have got gold there that it is not worth a man’s while to work for two or three pounds a week, when he has to bring his provisions to himself in a whaleboat hundreds of miles, and to take the chances of being cast upon the beach with nothing to chew but the cud of repentance. What is required, they say, is communication and the presence of a community.
Big Bay, which we first entered, misled by the haze along the shore, although it appears on the chart as a mere indentation of the coast-line, compared with the magnificent harbours to the southward, is a fine crescent bay of considerable depth, and with a long-extending shelter on its north side, consisting of a line of table land, terminating in a low spit and a reef of rocks. It is possible for a mistake to be made as to the identity of the two bays, going by the chart of the mere coast-line; but Big Bay is distinguished by a low conical peak inland, and by its greater depth. Martin’s Bay has also its conical peak, but further inland.
A circumstance involved in the entering of Big Bay was the loss of high water on the bar of the Hollyford, but when we got abreast of it, the tide was still running in. In fact it usually does so for an hour or so after high water, in several of the rivers and lagoons of the West Coast, though the tide may have fallen on the shore. Captain Thomson was in the rigging for the purpose of informing us as to the appearances. He considered the entrance to be well defined, and straight, with the dangers sufficiently visible, or well ascertained to be avoided, and that there is breadth and depth enough of water for such vessels as the “Geelong.” Of course, the conditions are much more favourable for steamers than for sailing vessels, and apparently, there are few rivers, if any, on the West Coast into which steamers like the “Bruce” and “Kennedy” could enter under such favourable conditions, as, on the average, they would be able to do here. With a S.W. wind there is probably a heavy sea on the bar, but with winds with a northerly point in them, there should be considerable shelter afforded by the high bluff land which forms the northern shore of the entrance. A sailing vessel would have difficulty in getting in without a leading wind from the southward, but a light breeze would probably be sufficient; although there is a heavy body of water in the river, it does not flow with such impetuosity into the sea as to make much debatable ground between it and the tide. The natural effect of the existence of the Lake must be to reserve the water for a time on the occasions of storms, and to feed the river more gradually than if it flowed directly from among the hills. The holding-ground in the bay is apparently good. The “Geelong” anchored in five fathoms, or four and a-half fathoms at low water, and during the three days she lay there, with a considerable breeze blowing for part of the time, the anchor never seemed to have moved.
The landing was effected in the three boats which accompanied the steamer. To the digging party, who had rejoined us at Milford Sound, one was devoted. In the other, the Superintendent, the Secretary for Lands and Works, and the Surveyor, had seats, and as much work as they were pleased to undertake, in conjunction with the other passengers; and it was a satisfactory characteristic of the three days’ stay on shore, that there was a very large amount of willingness of spirit, and infinitesimal indications of weakness of flesh. The third boat remained for the use of those on board the steamer, and, while we were “girding our loins” for the exercise that was before us, her crew found exercise for themselves in picking up some hundreds — positively bucketsful — of the eggs of the sea-swallow, which the innocent bird deposits in little holes in the sand, and occasionally in localities not free from the incursions of the surf.
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