Nov 3rd. As a family group—Uncle, Aunt Emma, the children and myself—we walked up the Petone waterfront to the buildings nearby. I had not thought the town would be so large. There seemed to be hundreds of small houses, and the shops and other businesses made a group on their own. The office of the New Zealand Land Company was clearly marked, and a great number of people from the ship surged forward trying to enter the doorway all at the same time.
It was a tall narrow building with a small door, and it was quite obvious we would have to wait a while, so we moved on, as some others did, to find the settler’s barracks which we knew from charts where to look. We found it—another very long low building like dozens of cottages joined together. It was somewhat further along the beach and half hidden by shops and businesses.
Aunt Emma decided to stay at the barracks and settle in with the younger children while Uncle, young Francis and I went back to the land office. At the office they had quickly given instructions to settlers, and by the time we got back there were not many waiting. I was disappointed for my Papa, because all the land about Wellington had been taken up. He had offered us the choice of two adjoining blocks at Whanganui, each about five hundred acres and one hundred and thirty miles from Wellington.
While I was in the office, I met a man who had already settled at Whanganui and he assured me that the land there is better both climatically and for quality of soil. Mr Fox pointed out a coastal ship at anchor in the harbour and told us it would be leaving in the morning, so we decided to stay only one night at the barracks here and take the ship right away. Uncle Francis and family would travel with me as far as Whanganui, and on to Patea by coach. We will have to leave some of the larger cases for a few days but have been assured they will be quite safe and we will get them before too long.
To Whanganui and Beyond
Nov 4th. Morning has arrived and the great excitement continues. It is a lovely sunny day again. I will quickly finish this and post it to you before we leave here for Whanganui, because Mr Fox told us the ‘Poictiers’ will take mail from here in two days’ time. I look forward to hearing from you all. Fondest wishes to every one of you.
Your loving son,
Francis
Nov 6th. Our arrival at Whanganui was amidst great excitement, just as we have lived with ever since we arrived at Wellington. We looked upon a long sandy beach with sandhills all along. There are quite a number of houses scattered about. Travelling was rough compared with the Bernicia, but the journey was not too long. How pleased I felt to be at last on land that was now to be my home. In my excitement I cannot get out to my farm quick enough. Again it did not take us long to find the settler’s barracks where we are spending our first night. It is reasonably comfortable.
Up the River
Nov 7th. I was quite overawed to find that my transport up the river was to be a Māori canoe, and ten sturdy Māori with tattooed faces to man it. I will tell you more later on about the tattoos most of them have all over their faces. Saying goodbye to Uncle and Aunty and family was quite sad. I had begun to feel that I was part of their family.
I have with me on this first trip boxes and bags as well as the long heavy box with the implements and tent. They will all go on the Māori canoe, which is a great length. The Māori seem to be a wonderful people. They sang all sorts of songs in their deep rich voices and without music—just the rhythm of their oars as they paddled along. They are all so happy and want to be friends.
My boxes make quite a load. The very long box with the tools inside came apart a little at one corner and Koro looked in and saw an axe. He indicated to me that he wanted to help cut trees and build a house. It is hard to understand all they say. We must look a funny sight.
The trip up the river was about six miles before we pulled into a little landing by a steep bank up which a narrow path leads. It appears to be used a lot. All my boxes and bags were unloaded onto a stretch of sand and as I looked around this lonely spot, there were no buildings or people about—just trees along the riverbank and all the way to the hills. I wondered what was to happen next. However, the Māori had everything ready and soon a rough-looking waggon pulled by two muddy horses arrived. The Māori then went on to load the boxes onto the waggon. They had to be pulled up the steep track on the bank and it was both awkward and hard work. The heavy one full of tools was a problem and had to be partly unloaded to manage.
Nov 8th. I awoke this morning when it was barely daylight. I had put up my tent in a hurry last night and the bunk was comfortable enough, but in the near darkness I awoke suddenly knowing something was moving about inside my tent. My heart was beating fast, as I sat up in great fear. It was quite a few seconds before I could see in the half light, half dark—and then relieved to discover it was not the tattooed faces of Māori that I expected—but standing staring at me were three ground birds the size of bantams.
They were a rusty brown colour streaked with black and were very tame, running off only when I jumped out of bed. The three of them remained strutting about around my tent and making queer clicking noises as though discussing what their next move would be.
The beauty of my first morning is something I shall remember all my life. The giant forest trees grow all around the little clearing. The sun was just beginning to streak through by the time I had dressed, and a slight breeze created a shirring noise in the trees. Birds were singing everywhere. I have never heard such beautiful and so much birdsong all at once. It sounded as though muffled bells were ringing in time to the songs.
One giant tree near my tent grows about eighty or one hundred feet before it branches. I disliked wasting time on breakfast so hurriedly sat by the door and ate before moving off to see all I could see.
