We made several trips in the yacht to different ports in the South Sea Islands, and to south ports in Van Dieman’s Land, trading and carrying passengers as the opportunity presented itself.
We now had an interesting experience, as we had entered her in the cup race which was held in the middle island of New Zealand, and was one of the events in that locality.
We were to race against the English mail ketch “Sylph.” She was a crack yacht, having been used in carrying the mails to the different islands, and up to this time had never been beaten in a race. We made everything ready; although our suit of sails were of English make and fitted badly, they were adapted to heavy weather, which, should it blow hard, would be in our favor.
The morning of the race came, and with it a heavy wind, and at 10 a.m. we maneuvred around the guardship for position. When we were in line the starting gun was fired and we were off. The course we were to run over was down the harbor to the heads, or entrance, where we were to round a large red buoy, and then run back to the guard ship.
On our first trip around the buoy the Englishman beat us by at least a quarter of a mile, but when we rounded and hauled up against the strong wind, we had him. Now he was obliged to take in his light sails, and even then was making bad weather. These conditions were just what I had been praying for, and on our second tack we crossed his bows about a half mile to windward, and I ordered a broom to be sent aloft and fastened there. I did this as, on our first trip down, he had passed us and when he went by had hung a line over his stern, indicating that he would tow us in, but he had commenced too soon.
We rounded the guardship on our first turn about 20 minutes ahead of him, and the natives were yelling like mad.
About we came and started down the harbor on our last leg, the wind increasing all the time so that we were obliged to reef our mainsail. As we passed the Sylph, not a sound came from them; they knew we had them, and we certainly had them good. On our last leg the waters were covered with white caps, and we pulled down all our headsails as we rounded the guardship for the last time, a winner. I now hoisted the American flag in the fore-mast and set our British ensign over the stern. This was a little cheeky, as I was sailing under the British flag, and the United States were not, at that time, any too popular. The weather was so rough that the Sylph came in with her top-mast and jib-boom both gone and with a crestfallen man as her captain, for it was the first race he had ever lost, and we had beaten him by 55 minutes, corrected time.
When the race had started the betting was 3 to 1 against us, and the captain of the Sylph had himself bet two hundred pounds sterling that he would win. That evening, at the hotel ashore, we were presented with the cup and a flag, a large crowd being present, and dancing and singing being the order of the night.
I was invited to spend that night ashore, with one of my owners, at Christ Church, a little village across the mountains and in the valley of Heathcote. As it was blowing very hard at the time, and as the mate was the only man on board the yacht, I reluctantly accepted, but felt very uneasy about my vessel.
During the night the wind blew a hurricane, and at 5 a.m. I started back to the port. My host had loaned me a saddle horse to cross the mountain with, and when I reached the top and looked down the river, a sad sight met my eyes. The yacht had broken adrift and was alongside of an English brig with her foresail partly hoisted. Before I could get a boat to put me aboard, she commenced to move down the harbor.
Then I knew the mate was drunk. We pulled and waved, and she finally came up into the wind and headed for the south side of the harbor. I boarded a ship (the British Empire), whose captain was a friend of mine, and he gave me a long-boat and crew and small hawser, and we crossed over to head the schooner off, shouting to the mate to drop the anchor and ease off his sheet. But it was of no avail. We pulled alongside just as he hove the wheel down, and, drifting on the rocks, we dropped anchor, but too late, for in twenty minutes her keel was out, masts gone, and she was bottom up in the surf on the rocks.
Thus ended the life of the Yankee yacht Charmer, or Canterbury, as she was re-christened under the British flag. It was a sad day for me, as I had spent nearly two years on her, making many record trips, and paying for her several times over.
During my voyages among these islands I met many of the native Maori or aboriginal Indians, and had much to do with them in my trading. They are a Polynesian people with some Melanesian mixture. They are of vigorous and athletic frame, tall stature, and pleasing features, and are among the bravest and most war-like of men. They were great wood-carvers, and had the art of tatooing down to a science. Formerly inveterate cannibals, they are now civilized citizens.
The English had many hard fights with them, but they were finally overpowered, the skirmishing lasting up to 1875. They raised many cattle and sheep, and many of them went in whaling ships.
The islands of New Zealand are among the most valuable of the British possessions, and are immensely wealthy in natural resources. The gold mines of Otago drew many American adventurers, who became very wealthy. I shall never forget those beautiful islands nor my boyhood experiences there in the old sea days.