The Chronicles of a Gay Gordon

This particular case was duly settled by the court. Its decision was given in favour, if I remember rightly, of the tribe that swam across from the south. The court officials were entrusted with the settlement of the expenses incurred by the tribes. After paying all these expenses a sum of some one thousand pounds remained as the amount to be paid in compensation, in accordance with the edict of Exeter Hall, to the winners.

The final celebration had now to take place. The chief of the victorious tribe invited the losing tribes to a farewell festival. A great Maori haka was held, to which not only the natives themselves, but the whole of the English inhabitants, were invited. The braves of all the tribes took part in this. It was a wonderful scene. It took place upon a moonlight night. There was an inner circle, in the centre of which the triumphant chief and his chieftains, surrounded by the chief and chieftains of the other two tribes, stood. Around them was a palisade of sticks, on which the one thousand odd pounds in notes, paid to them as a result of the court’s finding, were festooned. Immediately surrounding this circle were the braves of the losing tribes, and beyond, all round, the womenfolk and the children and European guests. Fires flared in all directions. You have no doubt read about the natives of different parts of the world, but you may not know that the Maori race was, without exception, one of the best indigenous types in our Empire.

Well, the scene was set and the war-dance started. Victors and losers joined, in complete accord with their own customs, and I doubt if a more inspiring sight, taking in view their numbers, has been seen. As their enthusiasm increased the greater became their rhythmical movements. As their vigour increased the more weird became the scene. They were fighting, in their minds, their old battles against their old foe – battles which they had fought with their native weapons against weapons of civilization. Their old war-cries leapt forth from their hearts and mouths as they had done when they fell before their enemy. They looked bewitched, and stayed not nor stopped in their wild orgy until physical distress forced them.

Next day they departed to their own settlement, and peace and quiet reigned in Tauranga, whose residents were more than grateful to Exeter Hall for the result of the great interest which the promoters of the meetings for the welfare of the poor Maori had aroused. Tauranga’s civil population revelled in profit. When the tribes left the whole of the camp equipments were left behind. The Government did not want them, and the whole concern was put up to auction. Who was going to bid? Only the local suppliers. There was no opposition, and the whole equipment was sold to the only bidders. Verbum sap.

CHAPTER XIII

AN OFFER FROM THE GOVERNOR OF TASMANIA

My life in Tauranga was becoming every day more interesting. Fishing, both fresh water in the Wairoa, and deep sea, was excellent. Any amount of shooting could be got within easy driving distance from the township – red-legged partridges, rabbits, and any number of pheasants; as a matter of fact, these were looked upon by the farmers as vermin, they were so plentiful, and they did much damage to their grain crops. Some eighteen miles away one reached the border of the King Country, the large tract of land then in the hands of the Maoris. At this border the natural bush commenced. Wonderful timber, among which semi-tropical creeping plants revelled in forming almost impassable barriers, so luxurious were their growth. Wild boar hunting was most exciting as well as dangerous. Supple-jack was one of the most treacherous parasites of the giant forest trunks, for, notwithstanding hand axes, the deeper you cut your way, the more entangled you became. Our patrolling duties often necessitated our being away for five or six days, and enabled us to get some excellent sport. There was but little trouble with the Maoris. They somewhat objected to the making of roads, which were then being extended inland towards the west coast, and they were a source of some annoyance to the working parties; but the appearance of one of our armed patrols soon brought them to reason.

Ohinemutu was a Maori village at the foot of the wonderful hills up whose slopes rose the marvellous pink and white terraces which were, a few years later, to be wiped off the face of the earth by the terrible volcanic eruptions that devastated that part of the North Island. Acting upon the advice of our doctor I decided to take a short course of the sulphur mud baths which were scattered here and there over the ground. Having obtained permission from Te-Whiti, the then king, I spent eight days at Ohinemutu. The two chief guides, Maria and Sophia, were well known in those days to all tourists who were fortunate enough to visit that wonderful region. I had been free from any rheumatic pains since my landing at Dunedin, but the doctor assured me that the sulphur baths would complete the cure. He was right, as I am thankful to say that from that day to this the old enemy has never tackled me again, though I am afraid I have sorely tempted him.

It was one day shortly after my sojourn at Ohinemutu that I received a letter from Sir Frederick Weld, the then Governor of Tasmania, offering me the position of private secretary, which had become vacant. I had taken out letters of introduction to him from some mutual friends, which I had posted on my arrival in Dunedin; hence his offer. I was naturally delighted, and cabled accepting. Without delay I tendered my resignation to the officer in command of our district, Major Swinley, who told me I could count upon its being accepted, and could make my arrangements to leave for Tasmania as soon as a steamer was available. I found there would be one leaving Auckland for Wellington, Christchurch and Dunedin in a few days. This was indeed fortunate, for it would enable me to see Auckland, call upon our chief, Colonel Reader, at Wellington, thank him for his kindness in giving me the appointment at Tauranga, and say good-bye to all my old friends at Dunedin. At Auckland, a beautifully situated city with an excellent and picturesque harbour, I spent some four days, having ridden from Tauranga through the Kati-kati settlement, the old Thames Gold Fields, and finishing my most interesting journey in a little steamer, the Rotomahana, sailing from Grahamstown. On arrival at Wellington I called on Colonel Reader. He expressed much surprise at seeing me, and told me that as he had no recollection of having received any application from me for leave, he failed to understand on what grounds I had come to Wellington. I was, of course, surprised myself that he had not heard from Major Swinley, and explained to him exactly what had happened. He appeared considerably annoyed, and told me that Major Swinley should not have permitted me to leave Tauranga before the application for leave had been approved by himself; but, as he had done so, he would not stand in the way of my bettering my position, and would accept my resignation. I thanked him and returned to the steamer, which sailed next morning for Christchurch.

In due course I arrived in Dunedin. Here a real surprise awaited me. It was a cable from Sir Frederick Weld to the effect that he had received instructions from the Colonial Office to proceed without delay to Singapore, where he had been appointed Governor, and where his presence was urgently required. He expressed his regret that the alteration in his plans forced him to cancel his offer, and hoped that it would not cause me much inconvenience. There was nothing for it but to bow to the inevitable, break my journey, and put my thinking-cap on.

I had wired to some of my friends in Dunedin, advising them of the fact that the steamer would be calling at the port, and that I would be glad to see them again. Two or three of them were waiting on the pier on the steamer’s arrival. They were much concerned at my bad news, did their best to cheer me up, and promised me a good time while I stayed with them. Being young, I put aside my troubles for the time and determined to take them at their word and enjoy myself. Plenty of time for worry by and by. At the end of the week the senior officer of the local garrison battery came to see me. He said his officers had asked him to apply to the Government to have me appointed as artillery instructor to the district, which then included the port of Invercargill, otherwise the Bluff, and that he had that day sent on an application to that effect, supported by the local Members of Parliament, and other influential citizens. He was quite optimistic as to the result, but I had my doubts. He had not been present at my interview with Colonel Reader at Wellington. I felt convinced that the chief had been much annoyed at what he no doubt thought the cavalier way in which I had left my job at Tauranga, after his having given me the appointment to that district so quickly after my application. However, hope is the mother of cheer, and I felt more reconciled to my lot. Later on arrived Colonel Reader’s answer. It was short and to the point, but a bad point for me. He regretted he was unable to recommend the reappointment of an officer who had resigned at such short notice.

It was all over. I had fallen between two stools. Well, it could not be helped; why cry over spilt milk? After all, I had been more than fortunate in regaining my health. I had spent some six months in one of the most beautiful and interesting countries in the world, gained much experience, enjoyed endless good sport, made many friends. Why despond? Nothing in it. Life was still before me. My friends in Dunedin and Christchurch invited me to visit their stations, fish, shoot, eat, dance and play. I would put in some three months enjoying myself, and then make for home and Wardhouse again. The journey homewards would give me the opportunity of visiting Australia, India and Egypt, and on arrival home I would have been round the world. Some experience, as an American would say, for a young man who, twelve months before, had boarded a sailing vessel in the London Docks with little hope of leaving the ship alive.

One of the most thrilling experiences I have ever had occurred while I made the attempt to climb the peak of that lofty mountain, Mount Cook. The time of the year was not the best to venture on such an expedition. On both occasions, when we tackled the venture, ill-luck befell us. Our first attempt was foiled by fogs, which, when driven away by a fierce, bitterly cold gale, that seemed to blow from any and every point of the compass at the same time, were succeeded by sleet and hailstorms that forced us to give up the fight and return home sadder but wiser men. The second time of asking, after a splendid start, once again the Fates were against us, and a heavy fall of snow, which lasted three days, put an end to our ambitious undertaking.

Then my round of visits came to an end, and I took my passage to Melbourne, sorry to leave so many friends, and little thinking that, in after years, I would again see them and enjoy their hospitality in those beautiful southern islands.

CHAPTER XIV

I BECOME A NEWSPAPER PROPRIETOR

On arrival in Melbourne I took up my quarters in the old White Hart Hotel at the corner of Bourke Street and Spring Gardens, at that time one of the most comfortable hotels in Melbourne. Situated as it is just opposite the present Federal Houses of Parliament, it is well known indeed by many members both of the House of Representatives and the Senate. The topic of the day was the opening of the Exhibition, and the official representatives of the foreign nations who were taking part had by this time arrived in Melbourne. The representative of the German Empire was in residence, amongst others, at the White Hart Hotel.

I must tell you of a little incident which should have finished in someone’s death, but did not. The German Commissioner’s private secretary had just been long enough in Melbourne to fall in love with the daughter of a well-known tradesman. She was certainly a strikingly handsome girl, and her charms had completely roped in the affections of that gentleman. This girl, then about eighteen years of age, was engaged, or going to be engaged, to be married to a local man. The private secretary was so persistent in his attentions and admiration that he roused the devil in the heart of her fiancé, who challenged the private secretary to a mortal duel. It was to be a fight to the death, so he stated in the challenge, which arrived at our hotel at about 10 P.M. on a Tuesday evening, just as we were sitting down to a game of whist. The private secretary solemnly handed the written challenge to his chief. The Commissioner read it, then said: “Write a note in answer stating that our under-secretary will represent you, and meet at once a representative of your opponent here at the hotel, with the view of arranging a meeting between you at five o’clock to-morrow morning.” It was summer time. “Would you prefer swords or pistols?”

“Swords,” said the private secretary.

The letter was written and sent, and swords were to be the weapons.

Our game of cards was put off for the moment, but, as I was afterwards informed, the intervening minutes while the letter was being written had been taken advantage of by the Commissioner to avoid a scandal. He sent word to the German Consul requesting his immediate presence at the hotel. On the Consul’s arrival the Commissioner met him privately, explained the situation, and requested the Consul at once to inform the Commissioner of Police of the intended duel between the two lovers, and to ask the Commissioner to prevent it. The Consul quickly left the hotel to carry out his instructions. The game of whist then proceeded. The private secretary was not playing too well. No wonder. Even a German under the circumstances could not have been but somewhat nervous. He needed not to have been nervous if he had been made aware of the Commissioner’s instructions to the Consul.

At about a quarter to twelve o’clock, as we were finishing our last rubber, the waiter brought in word that two gentlemen desired to see the Commissioner. He asked the waiter to show them into the room. On their coming in they informed the Commissioner that they were extremely sorry to disturb him at that late hour, that they were police officers, that information had been received that a breach of the peace was contemplated, that the private secretary was one of the persons concerned, and, further, that their orders were to arrest him. As, however, he was a guest of the Government, it would be more than sufficient if the Commissioner would guarantee that no breach of the peace by any one of his staff would take place. I was looking at the private secretary as this statement was made. I do not think I ever saw upon anyone’s face such a look of relief as came to his.

This ended his affair, as he was made to promise by the Commissioner that the lady-love was to be forgotten and not to be spoken to again during their stay in Melbourne.

Having determined to see as much of Australia as possible before I went home, I bethought myself of the letters of introduction which I had brought out with me from home. Amongst them was one to General Sir Peter Scratchley, R.E., who had been, at the request of the Australian Colonies, sent out by the War Office to advise them as to suitable positions and type of fortifications to be erected for the protection of the chief harbours and other vulnerable localities along the Australian coast. I called on him. He was affable and kind. He gave me considerable encouragement by telling me that as some of the forts were being completed it was becoming necessary to increase the Permanent Artillery Force to man them, and that – it seemed to him – I had just arrived in time, as my qualifications were satisfactory. He undertook to introduce me personally to the Premier, Mr. Graham Berry, who advised me to send in a written application for an appointment and promised General Scratchley to give it his favourable consideration when the opportunity arose. Just about this time I received a letter from my old friend, Sir Frederick Weld, at Singapore, stating that he was reorganizing the Native Police Force in that colony and wanted to appoint a few British officers to it. He offered me the position of second in command. This offer was most alluring to me, but General Scratchley simply ridiculed it. He told me he knew Singapore only too well, and that if I went I would probably die in a few years – if I lived as long, and at any rate that I would become an old man before my time. Far better, he said, stay in a glorious country like Australia than go and work in a country only fit for niggers, and poor at that. Taking his advice I declined Sir Frederick Weld’s kind offer. I wrote to him, thanking him, and pointed out that I was somewhat afraid to go and live in such a hot and moist climate after my sad experiences during my voyage out in the tropical regions, specially as since my landing in New Zealand I had not felt a twinge of rheumatism.

So I made up my mind to wait in Melbourne until I obtained my military appointment. I could not, however, afford to live in idleness, so I looked round for some suitable occupation which would bring in grist to the mill. I had always been, as you know, very fond of sport, and horse racing is the leading sport in Australia. I had been attending the meetings in and near Melbourne regularly and had become acquainted with a good many sporting men and the principal bookmakers and trainers. It struck me that it was a pity that a large city, the capital of a most thriving colony, where all kind of sport was rife, possessed no daily sporting paper. The one evening paper in Melbourne, The Herald, usually devoted some space to sport, but it was not published till too late in the day to be of any value to race-goers and punters. I determined to start a “sporting news-sheet,” to be published for the ten days covering the forthcoming Melbourne Cup Meeting. This news-sheet would be on sale at 10 A.M. in the morning, and give the latest information even up to the last morning’s gallops – if any – the scratchings, and latest betting prices. I at once set to work and got two reliable sporting men possessing good all-round racing information to join me in the venture. Then I took a set of offices, which were really much too extravagant and in too good a position. The offices were in the best part of Collins Street. But I was a very sanguine young man in those days. It was my first venture in business bar the roller-skating. As a matter of fact, not one of us three had any knowledge or experience in business. We arranged that it should be my work to collect advertisements, attend to the editing and printing, do the financing, and see to the sale of the Turf Tissue, the name selected for the publication. My two partners’ business was to visit the training tracks, watch the horses at work, get all the information they could out of trainers, jockeys and stable-boys, and advise the public what horses to back.

Looking at it without prejudice, it seemed quite a good proposition on paper. So on we went. The Turf Tissue was to be sold to the public at twopence a copy, a half-penny of which was to go to the seller. It was a good commission, but by giving it we hoped to attract a very large number of the newsboys who sold the evening paper, in view of the fact that by publishing the Tissue at 10 A.M. the sale would be all finished some time before the evening papers came out.

Difficulties began early. I found that it was by no means so easy to collect advertisements, knowing, of course, nothing about it, and I tackled the job badly. Those who took up advertising space stipulated for an actual distribution of ten thousand copies of the Tissue each day, which had to be guaranteed and be carried out before they paid for the advertisements. I could see no other way out of the difficulty than to consent to their terms. Next came how to print the Tissue. We had no printing plant of our own, so we had to find what I think they called “a job printer” to pull us through. This was by no means easy, as I was unable to find one who would promise that the paper would actually be printed each day and be ready for issue at the stipulated time. Besides, the price to be charged seemed to me to be nearly ruinous. Yet if our venture was worth trying it was worth paying for at first. The Turf Tissue was to become a genuine daily newspaper. There would be more than ample profits by and by.

The time was near when the first issue was to take place, namely, the Thursday of the week before the day on which the Melbourne Cup was to be run, the first Tuesday in November. We decided that the first issue was to be given free to the newsvendors and sellers by way of advertisement, and notices were put up inviting all such who were willing to sell the Turf Tissue to assemble outside the offices of the paper on the Thursday morning by 10 A.M. That morning came and so did the crowds of would-be sellers to obtain their free issue for which they were to charge 2d. each. In such numbers were they that the traffic was interfered with, and the police took the matter in hand. I found out that a mistake had undoubtedly been made in fixing the main thoroughfare as a place of distribution, and that the mistake was entirely due to my inexperience as an editor and newspaper proprietor. For such I was. In a short time the first ten thousand copies of the first number of the newly-fledged sporting paper were being sold throughout Melbourne town. Looking out of the window of my office I could hear the loud cries of “Buy a Turf Tissue,” “All the tips,” “Latest gallops,” “Only twopence.” All was going well, and the firm adjourned to Scott’s Hotel. A couple of bottles of “bubbly” christened the very first sheet out of the printing press, which I have still.

To avoid the scenes in the street of that morning, I arranged for light carts to proceed next morning to convenient localities, where, under proper supervision, the regular distribution to sellers would take place, and these localities were duly and largely advertised that afternoon.

My two partners left me to ferret out what information they could, particularly to spot, if possible, the winner for the coming Saturday’s races. If we could only strike, say, three or four winners for Saturday our fortune was made. I looked forward to printing an issue of fifty thousand copies on the Tuesday morning, the Cup Day, giving the last and final and correct tip for that great race. I treated myself to an excellent dinner at my club, and could hardly realize that with all the disadvantages of inexperience and want of knowledge in business matters my success had been so quickly and soundly assured. The first of the rather rude awakenings, which came to me next morning, was a message sent on to the office, where I was sitting after having supervised the departure of the delivery carts to their several distributing localities, arranged for on the previous day, to the effect that no news-sellers were available at the arranged places, and asking for instructions. I sent for a cab and started for the places where the delivery carts were waiting. What a change from the previous day! Either something had gone radically wrong with the advertising of the change in the place and mode of distribution, or else the news-sellers had been tampered with in some way or another. Not one was to be found. Then I remembered the agreement with the advertisers. Ten thousand copies had to be distributed throughout the city and suburbs. There was only one remedy. The delivery carts must deliver them, as widely as was possible, but, of course, free of charge. You will doubtless have noticed that this was the second issue of the paper which had been made without as yet one penny having been returned to the promoters.

On returning to the office I found a well-known Jew of that day, who, I had been told, was the boss of the news-sellers and who practically had them all in the palm of his hand. He informed me straight out that he had passed the word round that any vendor, man, woman or child, who sold the Turf Tissue would be struck off the list of their evening paper sellers, whom he absolutely controlled. The explanation for the morning’s failure was clear. But what was more clear was the unrelenting spirit in which my visitor absolutely refused to come to any terms which might lead to an amicable settlement. He delivered his ultimatum like a Napoleon. He would have no truck with new-fangled ideas which might interfere with the sale of the old-established newspaper. He informed me he had not the slightest ill-feeling personally in the matter; in fact, he went so far as to say that if I had only conferred with him before launching my scheme he would have gladly advised me of the futility of it. Bowing himself out, he departed. I had not the least inclination to step over to Scott’s and have a glass of bubbly. I simply had to count up what our losses then amounted to. They were as follows, roughly: