Old Westland/Chapter 19

Dance Hall, Hokitika In the year 1867 it was estimated that Old Westland had a population of 50,000, whereas but two years previously there were under 1,000 people on the whole of the West Coast, such is the lure of gold. By this time Hokitika was the wonder city of the Southern Hemisphere, so phenomenal had been its growth; and now, at the zenith of its greatness, it presented a picture unique in the history of the Dominion. Men from far-flung places of the world congregated in its streets and talked of gold, and nothing but gold, and as they talked a mounted escort would pass by—there had been a “wash up” at Ross, Kanieri, Waimea, or at some of the river or beach claims and another 10,000 ounces was being put aboard a vessel for export. Such a shipment, then valued at £40,000—to-day at twice as much—caused no undue ​excitement; it was a commonplace occurrence, just an incident in the daily routine.

At night, when the diggers working nearby returned to town, the scene almost baffled description, for then the streets were thronged with people, and the places of amusement, ablaze with light, came into their own. Then the hotels, the skittle alleys, and the gambling dens, where foregathered immaculately attired, soft-voiced spielers, adept at working a crooked roulette wheel, a crown and anchor outfit, or the elusive thimble and pea illusion, “Now you see it—and now you don’t,” were going at top, and diggers were simply throwing away their easily gotten gold.

The casinos, too, where the ladies de ballet displayed less of their charms than do sunbathing girls of to-day, were most popular. In the beginning these “dancing girls” were attached to the hotels; later it was deemed necessary to add the following clause to the Licensing Act: “Whereas a practice exists in certain parts of the Colony of hiring women and young girls to dance in rooms or places where liquors are sold, any contract by which any females shall be hired to dance in any such room or place shall be null and void; any room or place in which females shall be so employed, or permitted, whether by contract or by a share of the produce of the sale of tickets, or in any way, shall be taken to be ​a disorderly house. Penalty: first offence £20, second £50 and forfeiture.”

Thus did the licensed houses of the day lose a great source of revenue, for Inspector Broham saw to it that the law was observed in this respect. The dancing girls were a passing phase in Old Westland’s history; while money was plentiful they there remained; with the dwindling of gold returns they moved on—a semi-depleted goldfield they had no use for.

It was at this time, too, that Hokitika excelled itself as a shipping centre. During the previous year an ever-increasing number of ships had visited the port, but now they came (and regularly, too) in hundreds, it being on record, in fact shown as an illustration herein, that forty-one vessels of all nationalities, sizes, sorts and descriptions were actually in port on one day, and what is more, were being bustled to sea to make room for those in the offing and those due to arrive.

While on the subject of shipping it is of interest to note that the brig Rona, W. H. (Bully) Hayes, master, was at Hokitika on New Year’s Day, 1867. Anent this, here is an extract from the West Coast Times of Saturday, December 29th, 1866: “Shipping Intelligence—Port of Hokitika: arrived Rona, 150 tons, W. H. Hayes, from Fiji Islands; passengers: J. Booth, S. Miller. Per Rona, ​from Fiji Islands, 50,000 oranges, 50,000 limes, 1,000 cockatoos, 80 pigs, 200 pine-apples, 200 citrons, and a quantity of South Sea Island curiosities. Carey and Giles, agents.” (In the commercial columns of the paper the cargo was advertised for sale by public auction.)

“The brig Rona,” continues the Times, “bound to this port, sailed from the island of Kanatava, one of the Fiji group, on the 16th inst, with light S.E. trades which failed her altogether when the parallel of 33 degrees south latitude was reached. Calms and light airs then prevailed for a few hours, when the breeze came out of the northward, and during the remainder of the passage kept light and variable. The North Island was not sighted, the first landfall being made in the vicinity of Fox’s River on the 26th, where Captain Hayes landed, the brig in the meantime standing off and on the coast under canvas. After a few hours she was headed for Hokitika, and anchored in the roadstead on the morning of the 28th. It was not fated, however, that she should remain stationary, as shortly afterwards a smart breeze sprung up from the N.W., sending in a jumping sea, which set the Rona pitching to her anchor, and caused her, by a sudden jerk, to snap the chain at the hawse pipe. Sail was immediately made and the brig was kept under canvas until noon, when she fastened to the Lioness and ​was towed inside. The Rona is partially loaded with South Sea Island produce. After the ship was moored Captain Hayes came ashore; he was dressed in white trousers, with a sash round his waist (in lieu of braces), a silk shirt, and a ‘wide-awake hat.’ He proceeded to the nearest hostelry, where he ‘shouted’ for all hands, afterwards making a tour of inspection of the city.” Here he met many old friends from the Otago goldfields, he having four years previously kept a hotel at Fox’s (Arrowtown), the story of his sojourn there being most interestingly told by Robert Gilkison in “Early Days of Central Otago,” who states inter alia, that this bold bad buccaneer had only one ear, the other having been cut off in California for cheating at cards. Be this as it may, it is a matter of history that he sat in with a sky-the-limit poker school when in Hokitika and got cleaned up in no time. The Rona sailed next day.

Despite the fact that the population of Westland was cosmopolitan to a marked degree, it was a law abiding, nay a straight laced, community when compared with that of some goldfields, where it was necessary for every man to carry a revolver, and two-gun men were ever a picturesque (and deadly) menace. There was but little serious crime on the West Coast, a gang of Australian bushrangers certainly, but the vigilance of the police ​soon drove them out of Westland, and into the hands of the Nelson authorities who, none the less alert, soon captured, convicted and hanged them.

During the opening months of this year (1867) the population of Greymouth, like that of Hokitika, had increased in an amazing manner, and the town was now known as the Crescent City for the reason that its places of business followed the waterfront and the natural curve of the river, making, especially at night when ablaze with light, a brave show indeed. Here W. H. Revell, in his official capacity as Resident Magistrate and Warden, was in charge of the district, while T. A. S. Kynnersley occupied the position of Commissioner, Resident Magistrate, and Warden of the Nelson goldfields with headquarters across the river at Cobden.

Both Provincial Governments had now instituted a roading system, and good progress was being made with the necessary construction works. The next progressive move was made by the Canterbury Provincial Council, who spent £1,000 in “protection” works: a series of piles nine feet long was driven along the bank of the river, the undertaking being known as the “Ninepins Contract,” it being generally held by those who had seen the Grey in flood that the first “fresh” would carry the structure away; and sure enough, a little later the “protective works” went out to sea.

​Throughout this year the various fields continued to yield in a satisfactory manner, 521,000 ounces being won; this was roughly 40,000 ounces less than the previous year, and it was now apparent that most of the “easy” gold had been obtained. So settled was Old Westland by 1868 that in July Greymouth was proclaimed a borough, Hokitika attaining a similar dignity one month later. In 1869 the population was steadily decreasing, and in consequence of this many fires took place, history repeating itself, for successive great conflagrations have ever been inevitable adjuncts to declining goldfields. These disastrous outbreaks, which occurred at Ross, Hokitika and Greymouth, did much damage and very large sums were paid by insurance companies. Perhaps the worst fire of all took place at the latter town, when three banks, three hotels, seven large stores and sundry shops and offices were destroyed.

At this time there were about 3,000 Chinese diggers throughout the fields, and the sons of the Flowery Land were far from popular. Though they were most excellent workers—industrious, honest and inoffensive—the Europeans would have none of them. Their objection was deep seated, and did not originate in the country. It commenced on the Australian goldfields, and when the great invasion from there occurred, and thousands ​of men rushed Old Westland, it was natural that they should bring with them a code peculiar to the fields they had left, and that code did not permit of Chinamen being allowed on the diggings at all.

To illustrate the hatred of the Australian diggers towards the Chinese, it is interesting to note that at Lambing Flat—a very rich field in New South Wales—an anti-Chinese league was formed with the avowed intention of “driving the Chows out of the country”; and it is a matter of history that members of this body, headed by a band playing Rule Britannia, actually raided diggings worked by Chinamen, whose gold they stole after beating them most unmercifully and burning their huts down. As a result of this raid several were arrested and severely punished, which only intensified the feeling against the Confucians, which was at its height when Old Westland broke out.

Now on the West Coast goldfields there were several Lambing Flat hotels, and one so named at Blaketown, kept by an Australian named Horsington (who came from Lambing Flat), was headquarters of a clique known as the Tipperary Boys, who well and truly hated Chinamen. Here occurred an incident typical of the goldfields in their heyday. But before writing of this, meet Gentleman George (whose surname no man knew), an Englishman who ​had been at Oxford and spoke with a decided accent. He was a lion of a man, well over six feet and built in proportion, who dearly loved a fight, and invariably went into action quoting Shakespeare. On the day in question, as a number of Chinamen were passing the Lambing Flat hotel on their way to the Greenstone diggings, Gentleman George made bold to politely enquire from the leader of the Tipperary Boys “who the sunburnt Irishmen were?”

The fight that followed was a classic. George went into action reciting Hamlet’s “Soliloquy”: “To be (bang), or not to be (bang, bang), that is the question (biff), whether ’tis nobler in the mind (bang, bang, bang), to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,” etc., etc., etc, both men valiantly battling on, giving and taking severe punishment with the utmost fairness, until the police intervened, much to the disgust of the assembled crowd. Those were the days.

This “blue-eyed Briton” afterwards made a “pile” and became interested in an hotel, which he endeavoured to run on English lines. Now on the goldfields most of the diggers chewed tobacco, and in consequence cuspidors were very necessary articles of furniture. These he placed in every room and in great profusion in the bar; but his patrons would have none of them. He pleaded, then threatened, then ​appealed from a health point of view—but in vain. At last came a brain wave—he had cards printed and placed everywhere, bearing this inscription:

He who expectorates upon the floor cannot expect to rate as a gentleman.

This clever and original example of the subtle art of punning (backed no doubt by the fighting qualities of the man responsible) appealed to the diggers, and had the desired effect.

Reverting again to the Confucians of Old Westland, many of whom made a fortune, it was generally considered that their success was entirely due to what was known as “Chinaman’s Luck,” which most of the diggers held to be infallible. So great was this belief that the writer actually knew an old timer who, before attending a race meeting, always made a point of kissing a Chinaman for luck. This term we would to-day apply to those addicted to purchasing winning tickets in Tattersall’s, or to backing at the psychological moment a horse that wins but one race in a lifetime and pays a record dividend—as a matter of fact, to those who “can’t go wrong.” But here is an incident which completely explodes the theory of infallibility, and shows how, when fickle fortune forgot to smile, the remains of the sons of the Flowery Land who died in Westland (and throughout New Zealand) were lost by shipwreck, a dire ​calamity—the more remarkable because this tragedy is outstanding in the annals of British shipping history.

With regard to this, Confucians the world over pay into a fund to be utilized to defray the expense of conveying their remains to China, should they die prior to returning thereto. With the object of carrying out this essential obligation the powerful Chong Sing Tong Society (which was formed over 2,000 years ago) in 1900 collected the bones of their countrymen who had been buried in New Zealand, for the purpose of shipping them home and thus fulfilling the cardinal principles of their religious belief. To do so they chartered the Ventnor, a steamer of 6,500 tons, which left Wellington for Hong Kong on October 26th, 1902. She carried a cargo of coal and 499 Chinese bodies, which were insured for £5,490. The following day the Ventnor struck a rock south of Cape Egmont, and as she was leaking badly was headed for Auckland. The next morning a bulkhead gave way, and the vessel had to be abandoned suddenly, the captain and twelve of the crew being drowned. The bodies were never recovered.