The port of Napier is the gateway to the Hawkes Bay and the ship berths there at 6am on the 21st October, 1898. It is already light in this part of the world and although he has no need to rise early, Murdo does, so that he can farewell his friends.
Robert and Sarah have gathered their possessions and wait patiently on deck for ropes to be tied off and the gangplank lowered. It is several years since they have seen their uncle, Robert Trimble, but they recognize him sitting ashore with horse and cart.
Murdo watches the emotions crossing Sarah’s face – nervousness, excitement, apprehension and wonder. Then suddenly her legs give out from underneath her and she collapses to the deck. Murdo kneels at her side, lifting her upper body onto his lap, gently cradling her head in his hands.
“Quick Robert. Fetch the doctor.”
“Nae Murdo,” a relaxed Robert replies. “She’ll be right in a while. Just needs a whiff of smelling salts to wake her up.”
Robert searches in Sarah’s baggage for the smelling salts. He has seen Sarah collapse many a time and no longer panics. It only takes a small whiff before her eyelids flutter and she comes round to see a worried Murdo looking down at her. She lingers a while, deciding she quite likes his caring touch. The colour gradually returns to her cheeks and Murdo helps her stand. He stands very close until it is finally time for Robert and Sarah to disembark.
Murdo has farewelled too many new friends over the course of his voyage. Handshakes, best wishes and polite hugs belie the sadness inside. Murdo watches Robert and Sarah disembark. Sarah glances back and bravely smiles. Murdo waves goodbye. He is still standing deckside when they re-emerge from the immigration office and climb aboard the horse and cart. One last wave before the cart disappears down the road.
Murdo senses there is something special between him and Sarah but wonders whether it is now lost forever.
Chapter Eight
Wairarapa 1898-1901
“Welcome to New Zealand young man.” The immigration officer indicates that Murdo should come forward and take the seat opposite him at the desk. He takes Murdo’s ticket and papers from him and begins his checks. “The country is in need of young healthy men like you. Do you have any experience or skills we can put to good use?”
“I’ve lived on a small farm all me life sir. Cropping and caring for animals is all I know but I’m willing to try anything. I just want regular work so I can repay me uncle who lent me the fare to sail here.”
“Well, there are job advertisements aplenty on the notice board over there. I suggest you go and have a look.” The immigration officer stamps Murdo’s papers. “Your papers appear to be in order, so you are free to go.”
Glancing out the window on his way to the notice board, Murdo realizes the the rain is teeming down. Large puddles form on the pavement and people huddle under verandahs attempting to stay dry. It is late afternoon and Murdo needs to find somewhere to stay for the night. Scanning the notice board he sees advertisements for train drivers, saw millers, butchers and bakers and many other occupations he has no experience for. Then an advertisement catches his eye – ‘Farm Labourers. Accommodation Provided. Apply in Person. Fitzherbert Farms. Main Road, Hutt’ Murdo remembers Francis McGuffie telling him about his brother James living in the Hutt. Pulling the paper advertisement from the notice board he thinks this will solve both of his problems and asks for directions to the Hutt.
At this time of day there are no trains running so Murdo’s only option is to hitch a ride on a horse and cart, or walk. He sets off on foot and follows the road heading north-east around the harbour. Although the rain eases, he is soaked to the skin by the time a passing traveller offers him a lift atop his cart. With upturned collars and lowered hat brims the men try to shelter themselves from the weather and there is little talk. Murdo does establish that the cart is going to the Hutt and the driver does know of the Fitzherbert Farms.
Darkness is approaching by the time they make it to the Hutt. Oil lamps cast an eerie glow over the bridge which crosses the Hutt River and signifies the start of the settlement. Murdo can hear the river’s fast flowing waters. The rain raises the water levels but leaves the bridge safe, this time. The cart passes several hotels, a general store and various small cottages before they stop in front of the Post Office building.
“Ye best be getting yeself some accommodation for the night,” advises the cart driver. “The Fitzherbert farm is just back over the bridge and ye’ll have no problem finding it in the light of day tomorrow.”
Murdo says “thank you” for the ride and walks the short distance back down the road to the first hotel. The sign above the door says ‘Family Hotel’ so he goes inside hoping to find a cheap meal and bed for the night. One shilling is the going rate. He is reluctant to part with one fifth of his money but needs a meal and a good night’s sleep. Believing tomorrow he will have work and free accommodation, he pays up.
A vegetable broth with freshly baked bread is on the menu for dinner tonight. The publican’s wife delivers a large bowl to Murdo in the dining room where several other guests are also dining. Two well attired gentlemen seated at an adjacent table are involved in a heated debate about politics. Listening with one ear Murdo is able to ascertain that numerous Chinese immigrants have settled in the area, acquiring a considerable amount of land and dominating market gardening, much to the disgust of the European farmers. Premier ‘Dick’ Seddon is trying to capitalize on the local antagonism towards the ‘yellow peril’ and is leading political rallies for the local candidate.
Murdo wonders whether the local’s discontent is confined to the Chinese or if all new immigrants are a target. He decides he’d best get a good night’s sleep to make a good impression with Mr Fitzherbert in the morning.
.....
The good night’s sleep and the colour of his skin are of no help to Murdo the next day when he gets to Fitzherbert Farms. The advertisement is apparently an old one that should have been taken down. There are no jobs and there is no accommodation. The best Mr Fitzherbert is able to do is suggest Murdo go through to the Wairarapa where there are a number of big stations always hiring casual labour. And so Murdo sets off again; back across the bridge and back up the main road, which cuts through the middle of the Hutt settlement. In the light of day he sees a number of stores with deep verandahs flanking the wide tarred road. A storekeeper yells a friendly “good morning” as he sweeps his shop frontage in anticipation of a busy day’s trading. A stray dog crosses Murdo’s path, wagging its bushy tail, its nose to the ground on the trail of a scent. There is little traffic on the road at this early hour of the morning and Murdo likes the feel of this sleepy village. However he needs to find work so he keeps walking north-east towards the hills he can see in the distance in the hope that he will find work on the other side of them.
There are several other young men heading in the same direction as Murdo. One of them, William Hosie, tells Murdo that the hills are called the Rimutaka Ranges and the easiest way to traverse them is by train. William, or Billy as he is known, is off to Cross Creek, the first settlement on the other side of the hills. His brother David is engineman on the train and they clamber into the back of a freight wagon to hitch a free ride, as the engine drivers make their final safety checks. It is essential that the engines and loads are coupled together correctly and the brakes tested. A whistle signals the train’s departure and the four engines and sixteen wagons begin the slow arduous haul to the summit.
The steep hillsides channel the northerly winds down narrow gullies. Murdo can feel the winds buffeting the train. He has never been on a train before but the other young men appear unconcerned so he tries to enjoy the rocking motion and clickety clack clickety clack rhythm. They are plummeted into darkness as the train passes through one of several tunnels. Smoke and exhaust steam fills the wagon. It is difficult to breathe until the train bursts back into daylight at the end of the tunnel.
It is a three-mile climb to the summit and yet another tunnel before the
train’s brakes become essential to limit its speed on the downward trip. The loud screeching of metal upon metal startles Murdo.
“Donnae look so worried there, Murdo,” jokes Paddy O’Connell in his thick Irish accent. “Ye’ll not be blown away down the gully like they was back in 1880. They’ve built some timber windbreaks since then.”
Paddy’s Irish accent reminds Murdo of his friends, Robert and Sarah Lynn, but his words do nothing to reassure Murdo and he is relieved when the train finally pulls into Cross Creek. Billy says his farewells at this point. Paddy and the other man, John McDonald, have heard word on the road that there is work at Awhea Station over by Martinborough. They suggest Murdo should try his luck there too and so the three set off on foot.
It takes several days to walk the distance. The roads are usually no more than mud tracks winding their way through hills. Wasps hover about the scented white flowers of the manuka bushes growing at the feet of towering trees. In the gentle valleys, smouldering stumps signal a settler’s efforts to put down roots and start clearing the land for farming.
As dusk falls each night they approach the nearest farm. Country etiquette demands that they be fed and in return they chop firewood before bedding down in the barn. Murdo’s boots are well and truly worn in by the time they reach Awhea Station. Fortunately the landowner is grateful for the help of everyone that ventures to this isolated spot and there is work for all. The station has been developed over a number of years by one of the region’s early settlers. While there is still some bush clearance to be done, there are several thousand acres of pasture, which are home to a large flock of sheep and several hundred cattle. Murdo is assigned the job of rabbiter. Wild rabbits are feasting on the new fresh grass. Killing them serves two purposes – protecting the grass and providing meat for rabbit stew.
Murdo is paid by the rabbit; the more he kills, the more he earns. He works whenever the weather permits – day and night. In summer he dozes under the dappled shade of a kowhai tree and feels as joyful as the pair of stately wood pigeons perched in the treetop above him. With the sun glistening off their plumage, the birds look like the king and queen of the forest. Murdo thinks this isolated little piece of New Zealand could well be his paradise. In winter he feels restless like the fantail that flits from tree to tree. The rabbits become elusive and Murdo wishes he is elsewhere.
Murdo skins the rabbits and dries the pelts. He uses the soft leather to make slippers and shoes for the shearers. The meat is cooked for the station workers. There is nothing to spend his pay on and after nearly two years he saves enough to repay his fare. He pens a letter to his uncle and another to be passed onto his mama. He includes his address so that maybe someone will reply with news from home. His news seems very inconsequential. The other men at Awhea have all become his friends. John and Paddy are still there although John is often absent for days shepherding the flock. Edward Hunter, Matthew Dwyer and Charlie Williams are other long-term workers who share the bunkroom where they doss down each night. Sometimes there are swaggers who will arrive with the sunset, share a meal and leave again with the sunrise. Although there are spare bunks, they usually opt for a bed under the stars. Their old and much-repaired clothing is lined with layers of newspaper, to keep the chill of the night at bay.
The bunkhouse is a single rectangular wooden building with an iron roof. A coal range sits at one end to provide both heat and cooking facilities. The men must cater for themselves and there is an unspoken roster for who will assume cooking duties. The station manager brings in supplies once a month. A dozen chickens peck at the ground outside the bunkroom; they scavenge on the men’s scraps and provide eggs. A vegetable garden of sorts is fenced off and if the frosts or the possums do not get the crops there are carrots, silver beet and potatoes to add to their diet. When they manage to catch a wild pig they are able to enjoy bacon and fried eggs for breakfast. John will sometimes return with a sheep he has had to kill after it has fallen down a bank and broken its leg.
Murdo remembers the lessons he learnt on the fishing boat that took him away from Ullapool. He knows how to get the heat of the coal range just right. When it is his turn to cook he will make a rich rabbit stew with vegetables that reminds him of home, and bake several loaves of bread. The men eagerly wash up when they smell the aroma of Murdo’s freshly baked bread. He is the only one among them able to bake bread with a crunchy crust and soft doughy inside.
When the night’s supper is eaten and the cleaning-up done, the men may play cards by the light of a gas lamp. On special occasions Charlie dusts off his accordion and plays a tune they all sing along to. Paddy is always good for a wild tale that will leave them rolling with laughter. But when the rains pelt down on the tin roof with a deafening resonance, there is not a word that can be heard inside the bunkroom. Exhausted after a hard day’s toil, they collapse on their bunks and dream of homelands, lives and loves left behind.
Sometimes late at night when the cries of the morepork keep Murdo awake he remembers Sarah and wonders where and how she is. He came to New Zealand in search of a better life. He has a better life at Awhea Station but it is not one that includes a wife and family. Now that the debt to his uncle is repaid he thinks perhaps he should move onto something better.
.....
Several months pass before Murdo receives a letter from home. He tears the envelope open, anxious to read news of his family. What he reads saddens him. The family have finally been evicted from the croft. Another bad year for crops meant rent arrears remain unpaid and the factor served an eviction notice. The Laird has allowed the family to move to the gamekeeper’s house but the devastation at losing the family croft has impacted on his mama’s health. The news reinforces in Murdo the need to be grateful for his new life in New Zealand and to take advantage of any opportunities to better himself and his lot. He decides it is time to move on.
Chapter Nine
Carterton 1902-1904
The Awhea Station manager is heading to the South Wairarapa stock sales at Carterton in search of a ram to introduce new bloodlines to the station’s flock of sheep. Murdo asks for a lift. The stitching in his leather boots has been repaired once too often and the soles are wearing through. His clothes are threadbare, even where they have previously been patched. He has not been near a town for over two years now, not that that worries him, but he needs to spend some money and re-equip himself before the approaching winter. He has no set plans but has no intention to return to Awhea Station, and farewells yet another group of friends.
.....
Pens of sheep bleat about their cramped surroundings as prospective buyers inspect the animals’ condition and speculate about breeding. Reticent vendors mentally compare their stock with those in neighbouring pens, hoping for a good auction and the best price for their hard work. The auctioneer bangs his gavel on a makeshift lectern. When a hush finally settles over the crowd of people, if not the sheep, he states the terms of the auction and begins the bidding on Lot One. Murdo decides to slip off and walks the short distance into town.
Murdo has heard stories about the fires at Carterton, or Three Mile Bush as it used to be called. At the northern end of the wide main street, there are only a couple of trees; the bush and the original houses all destroyed by the fires that swept the settlement from end to end fuelled by high winds. Now in their place are a number of buildings housing hotels, general stores, saddleries, council chambers and the local newspaper, the Wairarapa Observer. Murdo’s stomach rumbles and he is drawn to one shop in particular – the bakery. He cannot resist the aroma of fresh loaves of bread and stops only momentarily to look at the array of baking in the window. At the bottom right hand corner of the window is a small handwritten sign ‘Baker required. Apply within.’ A wide grin creeps over Murdo’s face.
The three horses tethered at the rail out the front pay Murdo no heed and the shop’s doorbell jingles as he goes inside. The storekeeper is busy with customers so Murdo stands to the rear of the shop where he has a
clear view of the oven and preparation area out the back. Murdo quite fancies the idea of himself as a baker.
“Can I be of any assistance there, young man?” the storekeeper comes up behind Murdo. “Sorry to have taken so long. I am rushed off me feet at the moment.”
“Oh, aye sir. I would like to apply for the position of baker.” Murdo turns and points to the advertisement in the window. Thinking he should have gone to the haberdashery first, he brushes down his soiled clothes.
“Mmm, well I do need someone. What do ye know about baking?”
“Not a great deal, sir, but I can bake a fine loaf of bread,” replies Murdo eager to impress this potential employer.
“And when can ye start?”
“Right away sir. I just need to purchase some new clothes and organise somewhere to stay and then I can be at ye service.”
“Well, I’ll try ye out. Ye’d best go about ye personal business this afternoon. I cannae have ye in my bakery dressed like that. It’s a white shirt, tie and clean apron ye will be needing. We start baking at 4am in the morning. Meet me at the back door then and we’ll see how ye go.”
“Thank ye sir. Ye’ll not be disappointed.”
“The pay is five shillings per day. We bake every day but Sunday and finish when the day’s baking is sold. Ye’ll have a 30-minute break between 12 and 12.30pm when we shut the doors for dinner, and Wednesday afternoons free. Any questions?”
A Better Place Page 7
