Before The Teatree
BEFORE THE TEATREE
By A. H Meiklejohn.
SHELL THE TRAIL OF THE MAORI
In places where the Maori had habitated, cultivated or worked on this Northern Peninsula, he has left an everlasting trail of shell, commonly known as pipi shell. We can follow him from the pipi bank as he wended his way up long rivers, as far as the tidal waters would permit. Here, layers of shell and small burnt stones suggest the inner man had been replenished. The pikau is hoisted and carried inland to where a thick coating of shell denotes the village once stood. Here in turn the day’s take had been divided and a portion sent on to various kumara patches, some of these secret patches being miles through heavy bush, but all having a sprinkling of shell. Half a mile or so outside the village, several small dumps of shell might represent the observance of the rights of tapu or of some recluse living apart. High up on the bush-clad ranges, almost inaccessible, overlooking the village, a considerable dump carried thither by some tortuous route suggests the watch tower, the look-out man spying the gulf for enemy canoes. In strenuous times, possibly reinforced by refugees from the village that had been raided and its inhabitants almost exterminated, as utu or payment for some previous possibly quite imaginary misdemeanor. Here and there for miles inland, a solitary kit of shell may have once contained the bird-snarer’s supper and breakfast or a midday meal for two friends journeying from coast to coast.
Around the old pas, avalanches of shell bear witness that the permanent force had existed on shellfish for generations. It would indeed be interesting to know if the Maori brought this fondness for shellfish with him. If so, we shall seriously have to consider who was responsible for the enormous amount of old work that has been done where not a vestige of shell is to be found. Much as this may be questioned, it would require a medium volume to write the evidence dug up on our gumfields and burnt in our forests that suggests that the Maori has not been the only sojourner here. To support such a statement, let us carefully examine a wide expanse of country from coast to coast, from the Manukau north, as the early settlers found it just before and after the first burnings took place, and then follow the gum-digger and the timberworker and the settler with his plough.
THE OPEN COUNTRY
Looking back seventy-odd years, a little more or less according to the progress or settlement, just before the tea-tree scrub appeared, all the open dry country was covered with the common brown fern, excepting only perhaps patches or land that might be tu-tu, lacebark or other light growth. This land invariably carried more or less shell and had been habitated by the Maori. Where they had made their cultivations in or near the edge or heavy bush, these patches afterwards grew forest tea-tree, but always a sprinkling of
shell could be found. In the dips between and at the root of the ranges, where the land inclined to moisture, tall thin rushes and flax grew. On poor flats, afterwards called gum flats, short, hard rushes and mixed weedy ferns.
In the swamps, tall raupo of verdant green, waving to every breath, a beautiful
contrast to the brown ranges. To scores of settlers these ranges had very little interest, except for the cattle feed, or later the gum, they would produce.
But to the close observer, there was much for consideration. When the fern
was burnt, these ranges were left as clean and smooth as a garden lawn, with here and there only the surveyor’s trench and sod to mark a section, or a little round lump – the home of thousands of tiny ants or possibly a little heap of white pebbles that had once been the crop stones or some unfortunate apteryx.
Here and there might be seen a mound where centuries before some giant kauri had uprooted. All these smooth, dry ranges – and there were hundreds of’ square miles of them – that were free from stumps, roots and big gum near the surface evidently had, at some very remote period, been carefully stumped and cultivated, cultivated to a fine tilth for a crop that had been kept scrupulously clean as evidence that only the brown fern grew on what had been cultivated land. Immediately past this, there obtained a mixed growth of several ferns, rushes and coarse grasses. Up the sidlings, in odd places, the line, of cultivation could be distinctly traced for quite a distance, till lost in accumulated humus or ended by some rough knoll or old landslide.
Above this came the natural pockmarked formation of virgin land, with stumps, roots and occasional lumps of big gum. On the low land, masses of broken timber and uprooted tree trunks, with hundreds of tons per acre of big gum on and near the surface. No doubt the land was fern sick, and Nature was longing for a change. Burning the fern gave the opportunity, and the tea-tree seemed to germinate as if spontaneously, and grew like magic. This, with the advent of the gumdigger, wild pig, and the settlers’ cattle and plough churning the whole into a conglomerate mass, very soon obliterated every trace of these cultivations that were to be seen on the surface. But in the land itself here is still a certain amount of evidence to convince the most sceptical. On any of this ground that has previously carried gum, if we dig down ten or eleven inches we come to masses of vertical kauri roots, all on one common floor. Allowing a little where the land has fretted away or accumulated, this one even depth obtains throughout the Peninsula. These roots are covered with several inches of pure clay, solidified through centuries of unuse; they have not been burnt from the surface – otherwise the clay would have calcined and the holes filled with humus or surplus soil; the roots would have been of various depths and their ends containing more or less charcoal. Careful examination shows that the soil had been removed, then the large roots have been burnt off; the ends of these, of course, are black. Other smaller roots that are not black on the ends have in. some way been cut off. This stumping
line, as well as the depth line of cultivation, could be distinctly traced on our northern roads, where land has been worked the depth line of cultivation is distinctly defined, whereas on virgin land, although not often met with, the subsoil rises like inverted stalactites some of the spires coming almost to the surface.
THE FOREST
In the forest seventy years ago there was evidence in many places that Nature had been disturbed at some very remote period. On the broken land where kauri grew, there were trees of all ages. On the gentle spurs and slopes there was just an occasional old mother tree, eight to twelve feet thick, surrounded by a young forest. These mother trees were always short in the trunk – seldom to thirty feet – with wide extended horizontal branches up to sixty feet, features not seen on those forest nursed. Ripe, close-grained old timber with from sixteen to twenty rings to the inch. They are scientifically admitted to be four thousand years old. If their seedlings grew immediately around them, they never exceeded eight feet in thickness, although their trunks overtopped the mother’s head – young trees in full growth with from four to six rings to the inch. None of them could possibly be more than eight hundred years of age. Here, then, we have a discrepancy of over three thousand years between the age of the mother tree and that of her oldest seedling. What has Nature been doing all this period? In view of the afore-mentioned, it is natural to suppose these squat old trees grew in the open. They were either seedlings saved at the first clearing, or were odd seeds that came up in the cultivated land and were allowed to grow. In either case, they were not Nature’s natural effort.
Before the first burnings took place, the brown fern was such a tyrannical master that no seed would germinate or plant thrive in the hot-bed created by the thick layer of dead fern leaves. The forest extended by encroachment only where its roots and shade weakened the fern sufficiently for the seedlings to propagate. This was the reason – there was so much open land in the North which under other circumstances would have reverted to forest, mainly kauri.
MOUNTAIN ESCARPMENTS
It is puzzling to know who escarped the Northern Mountains and every point or vantage even to the smallest dimensions. This points to many thousands or people ready to defend themselves. Why? There must have been intruders to contend with.
Huge Ratas have grown in and around some or these escarpments that must have been a thousand years old when the Polynesian left Hawiki, dispensing with the idea that these people were Maori.
KAURI GUM
Any attempt to describe the quantity of gum taken from some of our gumfields would now be thought exaggeration. But in the days before it was etiquette for the white man to gum the Maori had gathered enormous quantities that were on or near the surface. Some of the first gum sent to Auckland was taken from a sandy flat of several acres in extent, only just above high spring tides. Huge blocks of gum had been chopped over with a tomahawk and stacked at the water’s edge, then loaded in bulk on to firewood vessels. No kauri had grown on this flat and the gum must have been placed there by human agency when the adjacent ranges had been cultivated thousands of years previous.
MOUND BUILDING
In a large valley on this northern peninsula far from the beaten track there is a hand-built mound of considerable dimensions, situate on a gentle slope and firm ground 12 to 14 feet high, spherical and symmetrical. Top flat, 6 feet across. The pitch is more acute than loose earth would stand up to and appears to have been built with earth blocks.
Near by there is a little circular raupo swamp half a chain across from which flows a trickle of water and lends the suggestion that the clay for the mound had once been taken from where the little swamp is now.
HISTORY OF THE AITKEN TRUNK
This trunk was the property of James Aitken. Born 1608, Laird of the Ryes, Jockley and Auchenhay in the Parish of Clovend and Stewartsy of Kirkenbright, Scotland.
It’s next owner was John Aitken. Born 1649, Laird of the Ryes.
It afterwards became the property of George Aitken. Born 1689 at Greenhill, Auchenhay, who emigrated in 1775 and settled in Prince Edward Island.
Next the trunk came into possession of George Aitken. Born at Pamure Island, Prince Edward Island. He married Hannah Bearisto in 1798. Issue – six sons and six daughters.
Now it is at the stone house, Aitken’s Ferry, Lower Montague, King’s County, Prince Edward Island – the old homestead.
One of the six daughters, Margaret Loudden Aitken. Born 1809, married William Alley (one of six children) who was a son of Thomas Alley, who had married Catherine Ann Douglas (from Douglas Castle, Scotland). Issue of the Alley-Aitken marriage – six sons and six daughters.
One of the daughters, Charlotte Cordelia Alley. Born December 4th, 1836 and married on July 30th, 1856 at Cardigan, Prince Edward Island, John Meiklejohn (Master Shipwright). Born March 17th, 1834. Left the Island, September 1st, 1860 with two daughters, in the ship Drucilla for London. Thence to Cork in the ship Seville, embarking one hundred and ten soldiers for New Zealand arrived Auckland February 26th 1861. Issue of this marriage five sons and five daughters.
One of the sons, Augustus Heber Meiklejohn (first New Zealand born of this family). Born May 5th, 1861. Married April 30th, 1889 Martha Nahor Dunning who was born at Barhead, Scotland, June 11th, 1862. Issue – one son and two daughters.
The son, Arnold Bell Meiklejohn (Detective Sergeant of Police) was born August 23rd, 1891. Married Florence May Smith on September 11th, 1915.
Issue – two sons and one daughter.
The elder son Ian Phillip Meiklejohn, was born September 13th, 1916.
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The Brigantine Union was built at Prince Edward Island 1855 by James Strange Mucklejohn and his seven sons six of whom with their mother voyaged two years before settling at Big Omaha, North Auckland, New Zealand.
It is worthy of note that the mother took her trick at the wheel the same as the others.
Unfortunately a number of the logs have been lent, lost, or destroyed.
No one now living knows how, when or why the name Mucklejohn was converted to Meiklejohn. But in Scotch Phraseology the words Muckle and Meikle are identical. Muckle is now obsolete in favour of Meikle. See Websters Dictionary.
LOG OF THE BRIGANTINE UNION SEVEN VOYAGES, 286 DAYS.
Brigantine Union Cardiff Towards Alicant James Mucklejohn, Master Thursday, September 4th. 1856.
Wednesday, September 24th 1856. Anchored at Alicant.
Tuesday, September 30th 1856. Commenced discharging coal.
Tuesday, October 7th 1856. Finished discharging coal. Getting ready for taking in cargo of’ wine.
Brigantine Union Alicant towards Rio de Janeiro.
Sunday, October 19th 1856. 4 p. m. made sail for Rio
Brigantine Union at Rio. Monday, December 8th 1856
Thursday, December 18th 1856. Finished discharging and made fast to receive cargo of salt.
Thursday, January 1st 1857. Made sail for Montevideo.
Thursday, January 29th 1857. Salt discharged.
Tuesday, February 3rd. 1857. Pilot came on board for Pisander.
February 9th 1857. Anchored at Pisander.
Sunday, March 15th 1857. Made sail down the river to Pribesto to complete cargo of bones and bone ash.
Brigantine Union:
From Montevideo towards Liverpool. James Mucklejohn, Master
Tuesday, March 31st 1857. 6 p.m. The captain returned on board 7 p.m. weighed and made sail for Liverpool.
Wednesday, June 17th 1857. 4 a.m. Passed the Bell Buoy. Hoisted the Quarantine flag. Anchors and cables all ready.
Brigantine Union:
There is no log to carry on from June 17th 1857, but notes, letters and scraps of information put together gives Liverpool, Capetown, Port Louis, Cape Town, Liverpool, Sydney, New South where the Union was sold. Then on to New Zealand in the vessel “Sybil” landing at Auckland March 6th, 1858. Went to Big Omaha, North Auckland, New Zealand, May 18 1858.
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Journal of Voyages kept by James Mucklejohn
To New York in the ship Roger Stewart. Loss of one hand. Fell from the mast.
Highland Lad from St. Johns N.B. towards London. Tuesday, August 26th 1828.
October 8th Commercial docks, London.
Brig Rachel, London Docks January, 16th 1829.
Joined the Rachel February 9th 1829. Run down the river 1/2 past 11 a.m. The days work ends at 12 to commence the Sea Log.
Brig Rachel Thomas Smith, Commander. From London towards Genoa.
Tuesday, February 10th 1829 Passed the Nore Light 4 p.m.
Tuesday, February 17th 1829 Came to anchor off the Mole mouth.
Brig Rachel Thomas Smith, Commander. From Genoa towards Cette 1829
Friday, March 1st.
Brig Rachel Thomas Smith, Commander From Cette towards Rio
Wednesday 29th July 1829 Laying in Rio
Wednesday, September 10th 1829 Made sail for Peranagua.
Brig Rachel, Thomas Smith, Commander, From Peranagua towards Valparaiso. James Mucklejohn, Chief Mate, November 13th 1829
Journal of a voyage from Leith towards Picton and Quebec. Barque Industry of Dundee kept by James Mucklejohn, Carpenter and Second Mate Saturday, June 24th 1831
Saturday, September 10th 1831. East point Prince Edward Island W.N.W. distance about 20 m. Lat. 52 P.E. Island
October, 20th 1837. J.S.M. is making arrangements to build his first vessel.
Born at Leith 1808 Died at Auckland 1876.
THE PURIRI TIMBER GRUB
Sixty odd years ago I was associated with my father in the sawmilling of puriri timber for the railway workshops with its many odd sizes and lengths. As a sideline we cut and turned puriri tree-nails in their tens of thousands for the builders of wooden ships of that date.
At times I would be in the bush felling and logging, or again in the mill at the various benches, and during years of this work I can truthfully say I never saw a tiny grub hole. The smallest grub I ever saw comes vividly to mind as one and three-eighths long and the size of a spare caterpillar.
Now what are we going to do with the space between the moth’s egg and this little grub? It has puzzled many.
I suggest, but on very slender evidence, that the moth gets in touch with the adult grub and passes her egg on to the grub’s care to be hatched and homed till able to bore its own home.
Re slender evidence, new patch work frequently seen on the adult grub’s web.
