Five Years in New Zealand | Page 4

there on the following day.
We had a rough passage to Liverpool, and the steamer was laden with
cattle and pigs, the stench from which, combined with sea-sickness,
was, I recollect, a terrible experience, and it was in no enviable
condition of mind or body we arrived at the Liverpool Docks on a
foggy, wet and dismal morning. My mercantile brother, Tom, came on
board, and had all our belongings speedily conveyed to the lodgings we
were to occupy during our stay. On the following day my father and
mother arrived, and we spent a few days pleasantly seeing the lions of
the great city and visiting friends. On arrival at London we found that
we had a week or more before the ship sailed. Neither my father nor
mother had been in London before; all was as new to them as to us, and
we made the best of the time at our disposal.
On the evening of the day before the ship sailed, after seeing our
luggage on board, and cabins made ready for occupation, we
accompanied my father, mother, and brother to Euston Station, where
they were to bid us God-speed. I was in good spirits till then, but when
on the railway platform, a few minutes before the train started, my dear
mother fairly broke down, and the tears were stealing down my father's
cheeks. The less said about such partings the better; it was soon over,
and the train started. I never saw my dear old father again.
C---- and I, after watching the train disappear, started for the docks, and
before bed-time had made acquaintance with some of our future
compagnons de voyage.
The scene on deck was confusing and affecting. Upwards of four
hundred emigrants were on board, and the partings from their friends
and relatives, the kissings and blessings and cryings, mingled with the
shouting of sailors, hauling in of cargo and luggage, and general noise
and confusion incident to starting upon a long voyage, continued
without intermission until we were fairly under weigh about 11 o'clock
at night.

After the unusual exertion and excitement of the day, we both slept
soundly, and when we awoke next morning, off Gravesend, we were
disappointed at having missed the "Great Eastern," lately launched and
then lying in the river.
By 12 noon we were fairly out at sea, with a favourable breeze, and the
pilot left us in view (it might be the last) of the old country we were
leaving behind.
Before my eyes again rested on the cliffs of old England I had seen
many lands and people, had mixed and worked with all sorts and
conditions of men, had many experiences and adventures; and although
I did not find the fortune at once which I thought was waiting for me to
pick up, I found that there is always a fortune, be it great or small,
according to their deserts, waiting for those who determine to work
honestly and heartily for it, and that every man's future success or
failure depends mainly on himself.
CHAPTER II.
THE VOYAGE AND INCIDENTS THEREON--RATS ON BOARD,
THE WHITE SQUALL, HARPOONING A SHARK, BURIAL OF
THE TWINS, A TROPICAL
ESCAPADE--ICEBERGS--EXCHANGE OF COURTESIES AT SEA,
ETC.
The "Mary Anne" was, as I stated, an emigrant ship, and carried on the
voyage about four hundred men, women, and children, sent out chiefly
through the Government Emigration Agents. Persons going out in this
way were assisted by having a portion of their passage paid for them as
an advance, to be refunded after a certain time passed in the colony.
The only first-class passengers in addition to C----and myself were two
old maiden ladies, the Misses Hunt, who, with the doctor and his wife,
the captain and first-mate, comprised our cabin party. In the
second-class were three passengers--T. Smith, whose name will
frequently appear in these pages, and two brothers called Leach, going
out to join a rich cousin, a sheep farmer in Canterbury. Smith was the

son of a wealthy squire, with whom, it appeared, he had fallen out
respecting some family matters, and in a fit of pique left his home and
took passage to New Zealand. His funds were sufficient to procure him
a second-class berth, but on representing matters to the captain, who
knew something of his family, it was arranged that he should join us in
the saloon, hence he became one of our comrades, and eventually a
particular friend.
The captain's name was Ashby, and he soon proved to be a most jolly
and agreeable companion. The first-mate, Lapworth, also became a
favourite with us all.
The doctor was usually drunk, or partly so, and led his wife, a kind and
amiable little lady, a very unpleasant life. The Misses Hunt were
elderly, amiable,