Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

The relations between the Royal Navy and H.M. King Neptune are known to partake of the spirit of compromise which so happily characterizes the British Empire elsewhere. Neptune permits the suzerainty but demands a certain ceremonial which acknowledges his ancient rights. The function has a date and a determination and is observed by all King George's vessels on crossing the Equatorial line. It is in the nature of an initiation and lends itself to gruesome and alarmist description. For days before the _Renown_ reached the specified spot our feelings were harrowed and our dreams disturbed by foretellings of the unescapable ordeal of all novices. There was no immunity in being a passenger, even in being the Chief Passenger. Neptune was not aware of passengers. The wardroom was horrid with boding. Mercifully we were preserved from the imagination of the snotties.

The Royal Navy does nothing by half. Elaborate preparations were made long in advance. Active brains in Wardroom, Gunroom, Warrant Officers', Petty Officers', Engineers' and Stokers' messes and in the lower deck, found a morning and an evening occupation inventing rhymed patter, designing and making the weirdest of costumes, in which oakum, canvas, ship's-paint, and stove-soot all largely figured. An extensive stage was erected on the forecastle with a sail forty feet long, containing four feet of sea water, convenient for the "baptizing" of all those on the ship, of whom there must have been at least five hundred, who had not previously crossed the line. Wooden razors the size of cutlasses, barrels of lather made of coloured flour and water, whitewash brushes for applying the same to the countenance were provided, also a gauge-glass for a clinical thermometer, a cutlass for a lancet, and quantities of dough-pills, the size of marbles, well flavoured with bitter quinine, for physicking the victim before his ablution.

The Prince himself was one of the most active of the conspirators. To an inquiry sent "up top" (i.e. to the Prince's quarters) a reply signed by Captain Dudley North, R.N., was received by the "Father of the ship" (i.e. the Commander), upon whose broad shoulders falls responsibility of every kind.

It ran:

"His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales has not yet crossed the
Line. I am desired by H.R.H. to say that he is looking forward with
interest to his meeting with His Majesty King Neptune and
Amphitrite, his wife, and also to his initiation as a Freeman of
His Majesty's domains.

The following members of the staff have crossed the Line, and are
entitled to wear the various classes of the Order of the Bath
bestowed on them by His Majesty:--

Rear-Admiral Sir Lionel Halsey has crossed the Line on upwards of
200 occasions; in fact, for some time this officer is understood to
have supported himself on it. It is understood that he has been
strongly recommended for the order of the 'Old Sea Dog.'

Captain Dudley North has crossed the Line nine times, and has been
personally decorated by His Majesty.

Lieut.-Colonel Grigg and Lord Claud Hamilton have already crossed
the Line--the former twice, the latter four times. These officers
have, however, stated that owing possibly to some special favour,
or else to some serious preoccupation on the part of His Majesty,
they were not privileged to undergo the full ceremony of
initiation. They are all the more anxious, therefore, on this
account, to pay every respect to His Majesty, and not to presume on
his former graciousness. In expressing their humble duty to His
Majesty they await, with great humility, the verdict of his most
excellent Court as to whether they will be required to be initiated
or not.

The following members of H.R.H.'s staff have not yet crossed the
Line or had the honour of an audience with His Majesty:--

Sir Godfrey Thomas, Bart. Captain the Hon. Piers Leigh. The Bears
will, no doubt, attend to these gentlemen."

Each novice upon the ship meanwhile received a notice summoning him to present himself at noon on the 10th April:

"Before our Court, at the Equator, in order that we may confer upon
you the Freedom of the Seas, and our permission to enter the other
hemisphere."

The proceedings began after dinner over-night when the Prince and his staff accompanied the Captain to the Bridge. The lights were turned off and in the darkness one could feel the presence of the entire ship's company crowded upon every vantage point.

Out of the blackness from in front came the shout

"Ship-ahoy!"

with the Captain's deep

"Aye, Aye,"

in reply, as searchlights swept the sea.

_Neptune_: "What ship are you?"

_Captain_: "His Britannic Majesty's Battle-Cruiser _Renown_."

_Neptune_: "I wish to come on board."

_Captain_ (to Officer of Watch): "Stop both." (To Neptune, shouting). "My engines are stopped. I am sending an officer to conduct Your Majesty to my Bridge."

Rockets went up, and in a falling shower of sparks a procession of strange figures climbed into the ship from over the side. Neptune, Amphitrite, judge, barber, and doctor, with attendant imps, bears, and policemen were there in the most realistic of scales, fins, mermaids' hair and ursine fur. They carried brobdingnagian batons, razors, shaving brushes and trident. Their appearance was terrific.

The party was escorted with much formality to the Bridge, where Neptune and Amphitrite were presented to the Prince and drinks were stood to Their Majesties and the Court party, neither were there any heel-taps. _Pourparlers_ were exchanged in ceremonial verse, Captain Taylor making the following frank explanation:

"Our business is to take a Royal Prince
To see a portion of our Empire's land.
The Prince of Wales, he is our passenger
Who hopes to meet your Bears and clasp your hand."

It seemed impossible for the spirits of the deep to communicate in anything less metrical than this, and Neptune acknowledged his reception and announced his intention to hold an Investiture as well as a few other things, the following day, in the same fashion.

Next morning the circumstance was even more elaborate. Proceedings began upon the quarter-deck, where the "Companionship of the Royal Order of the Equatorial Bath" was solemnly conferred upon the Prince, and a "Knight Commandership of the Ancient Order of the Old Sea Dog" upon Admiral Halsey. H.R.H. responded in lyrical strains which concluded:--

"I know I'm for it, King; so, boys,
Don't let me keep the party waiting"--

a touch of _panache_ that was duly applauded. The Court-Martial of two selected prisoners came next to a roar from Neptune:

"And if they drown I do not care a fig.
Arrest Mountbatten and the Man called Grigg!"

For the moment these unhappy persons were roped and bound, while the Investiture went forward. Captain Dudley North was made a Knight Commander of the Aged Cod in these terms:

"Dudley dear, I'm pleased to meet you
Once again. Now let me treat you
To the old established Order of the Very Ancient Cod.
Its privilege is this,
That you may daily kiss
The most beauteous of my mermaids if you catch her on the nod."

A move was finally made to the forecastle where was duly performed the physicking, shaving and ducking of the novices, beginning with the Prince and members of his staff and going down to the youngest seamen on the lower deck. The novices were marched up and seated, one after another, in the barber's chair, where a pill was squeezed into each one's mouth, despite the most lively struggles; the lather was laid on, a rough scrape with the wooden razor followed, the chair was upset and the now seasoned novice was sent head over heels into the swimming bath, where the Bears ducked him handsomely to the cheerful rhyme:

"Shave him and bash him,
Duck him and splash him,
Torture and smash him,
And don't let him go!"

The Prince underwent a full share of the horse-play; and that he took a "three-times-three ducking" with the best, was the opinion of every one of the thirteen hundred sailor-men who looked on, and would have been candour itself if the ritual had been in any way reduced or evaded.

It was a spectacle impossible to imagine anywhere but in the British Navy, and helped hilariously to relieve the monotony of the voyage. The cost of the material employed was probably less than a hundred shillings. The labour and artistry voluntarily bestowed by the ship's Company to make it what it was, cost nothing at all; the preparations, from the elaborate embroidering of Amphitrite's scales and the careful scenting of her golden hair, to the fine turning and engraving of the Insignia of the Equatorial Order of the Royal Bath, were all the work of off-duty hours when the sailor ordinarily would have been asleep. We are but children of a larger growth and happy are the traditions that keep us so in His Majesty's Navy.

VII

FIJI

Fiji was the next place of call. Warm rain drove blusterously into our faces, while dense grey mist enveloped the land and shut out the sun, as the _Renown_ felt her way between wreck-strewn barrier reefs, over which the surf was breaking heavily, and dropped anchor, to the tick of the appointed time, in the sheltered water of Suva Bay. As the ship cleared the harbour entrance, a fleet of sailing craft, including a number of decked, outrigged war-canoes, with pear-shaped mat-sails and half-naked crews, tore dipping through the waves to escort her in. These war-canoes tacked, in the stiff breeze, by a simple expedient. The sail was reversed. The rudder, a big movable oar, was then carried from one end of the canoe to the other, so that what had just been the prow became the stern, the floating log, that served as outrigger, remaining always to windward--apparently an attempt at realizing the historic account of the bow-sprit that "got mixed with the rudder sometimes."

The little craft were identical with those that Tasman may have seen when his brig cast anchor off these islands three hundred and seventy years ago. But everything else has changed. Generations of Wesleyan missionaries have transformed snake-worship into universal Christianity. Sixty thousand coolies from India have rendered it possible for the sugar-cane to replace unproductive forest. The ninety thousand fuzzy-headed Fijians who have survived successive epidemics of measles and influenza have given up the savoury heresies of roast long pig and have taken on trousers, education, and wealth. The substantial maroon-coloured roofs of their dwellings upon the shore, which emerged from a tumbled background of cloud-topped mountain when the mist lifted, were indicative of the prosperity and civilization which have been steadily growing in the forty-six years since the British Government took over the administration from King Thakombau.

Sir Cecil Rodwell, High Commissioner of the Western Pacific, and Mr. Scott, Mayor of Suva, representatives of the present system of rule, came out by launch to the _Renown_, to pay their respects as soon as the anchor was down. There was no official landing till the following morning, when in hot sunshine alternating with warm, driving rain the Prince went ashore at Suva. The entire population of the town, a place of some six thousand inhabitants, was there to welcome him. In front, the principal European residents, with a contingent of leading Fijian chiefs, and representatives of the large Indian community, all in western dress, were lined up to be presented. Behind stood a well-drilled guard-of-honour of Fijians, in khaki, with heads protected from the fierce rays of the sun by hair that might be the despair and envy of the boulevards, twelve inches _en brosse_, and of a ferocity! Further on were a number of European returned soldiers, with hospital nurses, and other war workers, also returned members of a Fijian labour corps which had done good service in France and Italy. The whole assemblage was surrounded by a polyglot crowd of Islanders and Indians in all the picturesqueness of Polynesian and Oriental garb. Municipal, Fijian, Indian, and missionary addresses were afterwards presented, and inspections, investitures, and receptions held, a state dinner and a ball being amongst the functions provided.

Fijian national ceremonies took place in the afternoon, the principal being the solemn presentation by the chiefs and headmen of "tahua" (the whale's tooth) in token of fealty. This was celebrated, immediately after heavy rain, on a meadow crowded with aborigines. The actors were half a hundred well-fed, semi-naked Fijians, clad in nothing but sooty face-paint, white cloth bustles, and loin-robes of green, pink, and white fibre-ribbons. The general effect produced was that of an animated contingent of frilled ham-bones that waved, leapt, swayed and chanted, sometimes upright, sometimes squatting upon the sodden turf, a scene of almost disconcerting gaiety. The whale teeth were handed to the Prince by a white-robed hereditary courtier, and were the size and shape of yellow cucumbers, strung together with coloured thread. The acceptance produced a chorus of deep resonant grunts of "Daweha"--"It is taken." There followed the no less solemn ceremony of preparing and drinking the "Kava," the produce of the Yaqona root, to cement the bonds of friendship. The emptying of the last coco-nut cup of this sharp-flavoured, cloudy liquid was greeted with loud cries of "Mada"--"It is dry."

The yaqona root, from a twig or two of which the kava drink was brewed, might have been an enormous ash-tree stool, with partly-grown ground-shoots, uprooted from an English copse. The stripping of the bark, the pounding it with stones, the macerating it with water in a big carved wooden bowl, and its presentation to the Prince and other guests in coco-nut shells, was performed with solemn chanting. The ceremony included the stretching of a coco-nut fibre string, strung at intervals of a few feet with cowrie-shells, in token of Royal authority, between the Prince's chair and the men preparing the kava. To cross this string, in days gone by, while the proceedings were in progress, would have involved nothing less than to be clubbed to death. Those were doubtless days when such functions were less chronicled and more respected.

Timed clapping, which sounded like the thuds of successive buckets of water thrown from an upper window upon the pavement, completed the first part of the performance. A "meke"--dance--by three hundred gorgeously caparisoned Fijian warriors, wielding each an ancient battle-axe, which followed, was a marvel of well-timed movement. The muddy ground shook as the men stamped in unison, their bodies swaying in perfect rhythm as they acted the spirited paddling of canoes, the hauling at ropes, the pointing at the enemy, the leaping from the boat to the attack, and, after the fight was over, the sad breaking of the waves upon the shore. Their deep "Dua-ho," or grunt of welcome to the Prince, might have been the roll of many drums.

The final stage in the performance came with the marching up of some hundreds of white-garbed bearers, each carrying a locally woven mat. These mats, some of them of a texture that challenged the fineness of a Panama straw hat, were deposited upon the ground in front of the Prince in a heap that grew to the dimensions of a small haystack before the last had been laid upon it, and this, although special steps had been taken to reduce the number of the offerings by restricting the issue of permissions to contribute.

The size of the haystack indicated the prosperity, as well as the loyalty, of the Fijian chiefs, who still own much of the land in the islands. The rule of these hereditary potentates dates through centuries prior to the advent of the missionaries and the taking on of civilization. Their dislike of live intruders, combined with their appreciation of them dead and roasted, kept their own Papuan stock remarkably pure-blooded. The race to-day thus presents characteristics of its own not found in other Pacific island groups. The only other outside races, in addition to a few thousands of Europeans, now found in Fiji, are coolies, of mixed descent, from India. These coolies were originally imported under a system of indenture requiring them to work for a definite number of years for planter masters. They have been the means of developing sugar and copra industries which would not otherwise have been established upon anything like their present scale. Of late years the indenture system has been discontinued, and some trouble has arisen in connexion with the question of wage-rates, riots having occurred in which several lives were lost. The gradual appreciation of the possibilities of peaceful bargaining, however, combined with the enlightened efforts of the present administration to understand grievances and to remedy them, is reducing the unrest, which is, in some ways, a healthy one, since it connotes conditions of prosperity enabling the coolie to assert claims he was not previously strong enough to press.

The rich soil of the islands, and the equitable climate, which is much like that of the rice-growing districts of the south of India, promise enhanced prosperity as the years go by, Fiji being a locality especially suitable for the Indian immigrant. It is a place that, during the war, sent a remarkably large proportion of its manhood to fight for the allies, those who remained at home also keeping up their end with spirit. The visitor is told a story, which has the virtue of being authentic, of an occasion when Suva was without any naval protection. Its wireless installation picked up signals sent out by the German raider _Scharnhorst_, showing that this vessel was on its way to attack the place. Sir Bickham Scott, at that time High Commissioner, rose to the situation and sent a message into the air for the _Scharnhorst_ to pick up. It was addressed to Admiral Patey, aboard H.M.S. _Australia_, the only allied warship which, as the commander of the _Scharnhorst_ knew, might conceivably have been within call. It ran: "Thanks for your message. Will expect you in the morning." The _Scharnhorst_ presumably read this and pondered, for Fiji was left alone.

VIII

AUCKLAND

A still, sun-filled autumn morning, with crisp sharp air that made it a pleasure to be alive, on wide, sheltered mother-of-pearl waters, bounded by grassy hills, with frequent hummocks and white gleaming cliffs, greeted the _Renown_ as she neared New Zealand on the morning of the 24th of April, 1920. Dotted over the hills, like sheep at grazing, were numerous red-roofed country houses, which developed pleasant gardens with green fields between as the distance decreased. Out of shadowy bays and inlets crept motor-boats in ones and twos and threes, the numbers growing as township and village each contributed its quota, so that, by the time the _Renown_ was amongst them, there had assembled a fleet of very considerable dimensions decorated with flags and filled with cheerful men, women and children, soldiers in khaki, wounded in hospital blue, pretty girls in smart frocks, all clapping, cheering, and laughing in the most inspiring welcome imaginable.

The Prince climbed to his look-out above the bridge, and waved back a cheery acknowledgment. Bands struck up in half a dozen of the boats. Flags leapt up like wind-swept flowers in a herbaceous harbour. The hubbub grew. Numbers of sailing yachts joined the assemblage. Rowing boats chipped in, and, by the time the first harbour buoy was reached, the _Renown_ was sliding along with some hundreds of small craft racing beside her, in imminent danger of collision alike with her and with one another. The last headland turned, Auckland itself came into view, a red-and-white city climbing up the sides of a beautiful, sheltered cove, with clear, deep water in front, and a green, conical extinct volcano behind. Coloured bunting fluttered from the rigging of all the vessels in port, and long vistas of greenery and flags led up the volcano from the water's edge. One caught glimpses of wide wharves, black with clustering crowds, and of dark masses of people on the slopes of Rangitoto, all on the look-out for the arrival of the Prince from Mother England.

We had arrived at the first of the island continents which had drawn us all, battle-cruiser, Prince and passengers, half-way round the world. The ports of call behind us faded into instructive entertainments by the way. Here was another home of the race, another place in the sun where the breed throve and multiplied, and developed, under conditions fresh and far from the source, the man and womanhood we are proud to call British.

Auckland was an appropriate starting point for the Royal tour. The city was the capital of the Dominion until 1865 and now has over a hundred thousand inhabitants. It was founded in 1840 by Captain Hobson, R.N., when he added New Zealand to the Empire, the British Government having characteristically disavowed the action of Captain Cook who set up the Union Jack in 1779. The place had its godfather in Lord Auckland, the most distinguished First Lord of the Admiralty in Hobson's time, and thus a suitable sponser for the second city of a Dominion which owes its being to the Empire's sea-power. Auckland now has a fine harbour and a shipping trade of 2-1/2 million tons per annum. It is a place to which the prosperous sheep farmer looks forward to retiring, as it has educational opportunities, social amenities, and one of the most genial climates in the whole Dominion.

The _Renown_ was brought alongside one of the wharves, on which black top-hats and brilliant uniforms guided the eye to groups which proved to include the Prime Minister of the country, the Leader of the Opposition, the members of the Cabinet, the General Officer Commanding, the Mayor of Auckland, and the President of the Harbour Board. Thus New Zealand waited to greet the Prince.

At the appointed moment the Governor-General drove up in a motor-car. The ship was dressed. Bands played, guards on the quarter-deck presented arms, His Excellency was duly conducted aboard, where the Prince as duly received him. Later on, with more saluting, a full brass band for the Governor, and bos'n's whistling for the Prince, the Royal party went ashore, and New Zealand welcomed her future King. It was a little bit of England that had gone on board to make a call of ceremony. It was the whole of New Zealand, heart and hand, that took charge of His Royal Highness ashore.

Out of a multitude of motors the procession to Government House was formed. The cars proceeded through wide, well-built streets of stone business houses, smothered in wreaths and flags. Crowds of cheering people lined the pavement. Upstanding soldiers and cadets in smart khaki uniforms kept the roadway. The Prince, by now, was standing on the seat of his motor-car, waving greetings to the crowds, who responded vociferously. Two equerries, on the front seats, clung to his coat-tail to prevent his falling out of the vehicle. The Governor-General sat back with a smiling face alongside. The route led through the city, and out amongst solid residential houses, standing in gardens brilliant with variegated chrysanthemums, flaming red salvias, purple bougainvilleas, and the greenest of shaven lawns, with cedars and palms together spreading the shade of the north and the south.

Old Government House, which still serves an Excellency from Wellington on tour, where the Dominion's address was read by the Hon. Mr. Massey, Prime Minister, with his Cabinet standing by, is a spacious, Georgian building surrounded by an old-world garden of lawns, shrubs and flowers. It has a homely charm and beautiful views; it made one think of Surrey, and must have been left with regret when New Zealand changed her capital. Thence the route led back through the city to the Town Hall, which was packed to its utmost capacity with well-dressed people who gave the Prince a rousing reception. Here more addresses were presented, and an informal levee was held, everybody present filing past. Large crowds, meanwhile, waited patiently outside for his reappearance.

Later in the day the Prince was taken to the Domain cricket-ground, where he reviewed five thousand returned soldiers and cadets and again received an ovation. This cricket-ground is at the bottom of a shallow valley, grassy hills forming a natural amphitheatre. Looked at from the central stand while the review was in progress, the slopes of the amphitheatre were as if covered with a fine Persian carpet, so thick was the crowd upon the ground. It was a carpet that had frequent spasms of agitation, the cheering and hat-slinging, whenever the Prince came near to it, being exceedingly lively. H.R.H. first went down the lines of the troops and had a friendly word for every officer and a number of the men. Later on every man who had been wounded or disabled was presented to him individually, the Prince going round to search them out himself. When this had been completed he presented war decorations to those who had won them at the front. It was nearly dark by the time the last hand had been shaken and the last word said. The cheering, when it was over, was something to remember.

The following day was Anzac Sunday, and was taken up with religious war-services, H.R.H. attending those at St. Mary's Cathedral in the morning, and at the Town Hall in the afternoon. The Town Hall service was especially impressive. The Prince, slender in the world-familiar khaki, stood in the crowded gathering, and as the Dead March was played, and the Last Post sounded in memory of sons who had fallen, the people knew him the Empire's symbol of their sacrifice. Perhaps there, where the women sobbed to see him, he touched the supreme height of his mission.

The cricket-ground, on the following day, was again the scene of an enormous gathering. Eight thousand children were here assembled and went through pretty evolutions and drill. In the terminal figure some two thousand little girls, attired respectively in red, white and blue frocks, so grouped themselves as to form, first the word "Welcome," and afterwards the Union Jack, which waved and rustled as the children bent and swayed to time given by a mite mounted on an eight-foot stool in front. The crowd which surrounded the enclosure, on this occasion, was estimated at thirty thousand.

From Auckland the Prince went south on a train, every part of which, from the engine to the brake-van, had been built in New Zealand workshops.

The first thing one realizes starting for anywhere in New Zealand is the thing that has been a geography wonder since the age of nine, the queer inversion of the climate. The experience is curious, notwithstanding all one's submission to the fact since that time, so potent a governor of associations is a little word. We had arrived at the North Island, where the climate was warm and sunny like that of Italy. People coming with more permanent intentions had a way of settling in the South Island to be under home conditions of temperature, many of them gradually moving across the Strait to the North Island in pursuit of balmier airs. We saw the late autumn apples of April here and there ungathered on the trees about Auckland, and were grateful to escape the imaginative dislocation of a midsummer Christmas, with sunstroke as the punishment of over-indulgence. It would be interesting to know in what period of residence New Zealand undertakes to change one's dreams.

A green, rolling land, homely turnip fields, orchards, pasture containing fine cattle and sheep, pleasant, red-roofed farm-houses, comfortable country residences, and thriving market towns at frequent intervals, sped past the train. At Ngaruawahia, two thousand brown-faced, high-cheekboned Maoris, in European dress, greeted the Prince from outside the railway fence, men, women and children, hand in hand, repeatedly bowing to the ground, to slow rhythmic soft-voiced singing, as the train steamed by. At the same time, a dozen pretty Maori girls, in flowing white frocks, bare feet, and raven masses of waving fillet-bound hair, swayed, undulated and step-danced upon a mat upon the side of the track. These folk were Maori, as often as not, by courtesy rather than by strict racial description. Few pure-bred Maoris indeed are now to be found in New Zealand, and it is said that the mixture of brown and white is here more successful than anywhere else in the world. At all events one received the impression of a people plastic to the print of a new civilization, and developing happily in it.

At Hamilton, a town of ten thousand inhabitants, more formal ceremonies were gone through. The whole place was decorated. The people assembled in the streets, where they cheered most vigorously. Several hundred returned soldiers, and a very large number of children, stood in lines upon the racecourse where they were inspected by the Prince. Several addresses of welcome were read, that from the local municipality being presented by Mayor Watt, a prominent Hamilton solicitor and a man of much influence, also of dramatic instinct it appeared, since he discarded for this occasion the chains and ermine of his official garb, in favour of the private's uniform he had worn at the front.

A few stations further on, five hundred children were upon the platform, singing "God Bless the Prince of Wales," as the train went past. They had come in from a neighbouring mining-camp to catch a glimpse of the Royal visitor, who waved to them from his carriage. The flourishing coal-mining centre of Huntley, where a valuable brown lignite, capable of being coked, is being raised in large quantities from shafts, some of which are only three hundred feet deep, was also passed, the inhabitants assembling along the railway line and cheering as the train went through. A large experimental farm, where the secret of converting barren land into fruitful by means of basic slag has been discovered; cold storage factories where incredible masses of New Zealand mutton are being preserved for export; and extensive works where pumice, here found in the scoria of long-extinct volcanoes, is turned into material for the insulating of boilers, passed in procession before the train. We saw also peat-swamps, in process of profitable reclamation by means of drainage, in the valley of the wide Waikato stream.

Presently a second engine was attached to the train, which now crept slowly upwards, through a tangled wilderness of dense-forested gorge and mountain canyon, the scenery being of the wildest. The imported spruce, oak, willow, and ash of the more settled region gave place to feathery green _punga_ tree-ferns, and stiff brown _tawa_ of indigenous growth. Clearings were seen at intervals where cultivation struggled with the grey, bushy _manuka_ scrub; well-kept fields, in the hands of white settlers, alternating with unkempt jungle, where the easy-going communal _hapu_ tenure of Maori ownership is still in force.

Suddenly, the scenery opened up, and we saw, in the soft rays of the setting sun, a wide panorama of blue lake, and olive-green headland, round the dark, conical Mokoia island, famous in Maori tradition as the trysting-place to which Princess Hinomaa and her lover Tutanekai swam across the lake. Here, almost in the shadow of the Tarawera volcano, which blew up with terrific results to the countryside thirty years ago, we found the pleasant little station of Rotorua, where an address was presented and the Prince shook hands with a long line of returned Maori soldiers.

Visits to the wonderful spouting geysers of this famous neighbourhood, with Maori receptions and national dances, occupied the next two days, some of the party also taking advantage of the holiday to catch a number of very fine lake-trout, creatures which have thriven and multiplied amazingly since their importation from Great Britain a few years ago. The Maori dances are a thing by themselves. They are performed by warriors and maidens in phalanxes. The men, often stout and sometimes elderly, who in ordinary life may be lawyers, landlords, doctors, or retail dealers, put patches of black paint on their faces, array themselves in tassellated _pui-pui_ mat loin-clothes and arm themselves with slender feather-tufted spears. Then, bare-footed, bare-legged, bare-backed, and bare-headed, they line up in battalions, and leap and stamp, stick their tongues out, grimace, slap their knees, emit volleys of sharp barking shouts, and thrust and swing their spears, in wonderful time to the music of full string bands. The ladies, many of them good-looking, with melting brown eyes, well-developed figures, and graceful carriage, are more restrained in their performances. They are bare-headed, with long waving hair down their backs, kept in place by a coloured ribbon round the forehead. They may be dressed in voluminous brown cloaks of soft _kiwi_ feathers, or in loose, embroidered draperies of every colour, their feet and ankles, sometimes bare, sometimes encased in high-heeled American shoes and black lace stockings. They stand or sit in long lines, singing the softest of crooning songs, the while swaying, posturing, undulating, or step-dancing in perfect unison, to represent the movement of paddling, spinning, weaving, swimming, or setting sail. At the same time they swing white _poi_-balls, the size of oranges, attached to strings, which form in their swift gyrations gauzy circles of light around each hand, a charming performance worthy of Leicester Square.

In the case of Rotorua ceremonies, performances took place, first on the lake shore, on ground which emitted clouds of steam in the very face of the dancers, and afterwards, on a much larger scale, on a wide grassy plain adjoining, where six thousand Maoris, brought from all parts of New Zealand, the South Island as well as the North, were encamped in military bell-tents, a legacy of the war. Here, battalion after battalion, first of men, then of girls, and finally of the two combined, performed in quick succession, at least a thousand dancers taking part, while ten thousand spectators, about half of whom may have been Maoris or half-castes, and the balance Europeans, looked on and applauded. Here I suppose if anywhere we saw the pure-blooded Maori, though it seems a distinction with little difference. Unlike most Orientals, the children of mixed ancestry continue the traditions of the pure-breeds, put on their clothes, speak their language and boast their ancestry. One of the most striking of the figures was where the warriors stole out between ranks of dancing maidens, to take an enemy unawares, who was supposed to have been beguiled into believing that he had only women to deal with. Sir James Carrol and the Hon. Mr. A. T. Ngata, both Maori members of the New Zealand Parliament, and both distinguished speakers, took a prominent part in the ceremonies.

The address presented to the Prince by these loyal and attractive people was characteristically picturesque. It was read, first in English, and afterwards in Maori, by one of the chiefs, an elderly gentleman of reverend appearance in fine Kiwi robe, who spoke in a pleasant, resonant, well-rounded voice. "You bring with you," he said, "memories of our beloved dead. They live again who strove with you on the fields of TU in many lands beyond seas. Your presence there endeared you to the hearts of our warriors. Your brief sojourn here will soften the sorrows of those whose dear ones have followed the setting sun. Royal son of an illustrious line, king that is to be, we are proud that you should carry on the traditions of your race and house. For it is meet that those who sit on high should turn an equal face to humble as to mighty. Walk, therefore, among your own people sure of their hearts, fostering therein the love they bore Queen Victoria and those who came after her. Welcome and farewell. Return in peace without misgivings, bearing to His Majesty the King, and to Her Majesty the Queen, the renewal of the oath we swore to them on this ground a generation ago. The Maori people will be true till death, and so farewell."

The history of the Maoris is one long record of chivalry and courage, and their promise is one they will perform.

IX

NORTH ISLAND

Among the telegrams which met the Royal train on its way from Auckland to Rotorua was one of a character which differed from the rest. The message was addressed to Rt. Hon. William Massey, that embodiment of notable ability, kindly good sense and unquenchable spirit whom this Dominion is so fortunate as to have as Prime Minister, who was on the train. It announced a general railway strike unless certain demands of drivers and men, some time pending, were agreed to by the Government. It was in the form of an ultimatum which expired at midnight, an hour which found the tour at Rotorua. Against the extreme and humiliating public inconvenience of the moment thus selected must be placed the immediate offer of the strikers, to complete the schedule of the Royal train, to take the Prince in fact wherever he wished to go. While the offer was declined in the main it was accepted as far as a return journey to Auckland, where the Prince thus spent several unforeseen days while matters were being adjusted. The time had to be cut out of later dispositions. It was spent in private engagements, in the much qualified sense of the word as it applied to any of the Royal arrangements. The strike was ultimately settled through the efforts of Mr. Massey, who, being denied the service of the railroad, drove several hundred miles over sodden mountain roads, in the worst of weather, from Rotorua to Wellington to discuss the matter with the men's leaders there. The settlement did much credit to the forbearance of both sides. It did not go into the merits of the immediate question, which was as to the rate of compensation to be paid to the men in consideration of the increased cost of living, but provided a tribunal, on which the strikers and the railway management should be equally represented, with a co-opted neutral chairman, to report upon the merits of the demand, and suggest the best way of doing justice to all concerned. The acceptance of this sensible arrangement was largely aided by the New Zealand Amalgamated Society of Railway Servants, this important organization putting pressure upon the drivers and firemen to return to work while the tribunal was taking evidence. The incident afforded interesting proof, not only of the confidence inspired by Mr. Massey himself, but also of the reasonableness of the attitude of labour in this part of the world. Industrial discontent is a more manageable thing in a country where the great majority of the men own their homes and the half-acre that surrounds them. The struggle for better conditions is sweetened by the air of gardens, and every operative has the interest in the general prosperity that comes of a private stake in it.

The Royal party left Auckland in three railway trains, a pilot, a main, and an emergency, the Prince and staff travelling in the middle one. The New Zealand Government was represented by Sir William Fraser, Minister of the Interior, a Highland Scotchman from the South Island. Official appointments to accompany the tour were happily made throughout, but never more than in this instance, where the extraordinary kindliness and charm of the Minister of the Interior enhanced the great volume of his experience, to the pleasure and profit of every member of the party. Another of those present was General Sir Edward Chaytor, commanding the forces in New Zealand, a soldier whose world reputation has not in any way interfered with the simplest manner and the most delighted directness of mind. It was his function to present to the Prince the military side of New Zealand life, a side which was represented at every centre visited, alike by surprisingly large numbers of returned soldiers from the forces which gave such splendid account of themselves in the great war, and by considerable bodies of smartly turned-out territorials and cadets. Accompanying General Chaytor was Colonel Sleeman, also a remarkable personality, to whose initiative is largely due the system of cadet-training now in force in New Zealand, a system which is doing wonders in the matter of infusing the best public-school spirit into previously unkempt national schoolboys and larrikins, teaching them to play the game, giving them a pride in themselves, and interesting them in physical culture, and in the duties of citizenship, so that their parents have become as keen as themselves that they should go through the courses. Another of the party was Mr. James Hislop, Permanent Under-Secretary of the Interior, one of the ablest members of that fine body, the New Zealand civil service, who organized the arrangements of the tour, and whose irrepressible humour, good fellowship, and infinity of resource, in disposing of what seemed to most of us an utterly overwhelming burden of work, were a continual wonder to everybody upon the train. No less important amongst those outstanding figures of the New Zealand party, was Mr. R. W. McVilly, General Manager of the railways of the country, a man who with his predecessor, Mr. E. H. Hiley, has succeeded in doing in New Zealand what proved impossible, in England and in the United States. Under their direction the railway system of the Dominion was carried on throughout the war without break in management and without making any loss. It did not take travellers long to discover the affection and respect in which the Director-General was held, not only by his colleagues, but by all who came in contact with him.

The British pressmen with the tour were particularly happy in their New Zealand newspaper associates. Amongst these gentlemen were Professor Guy Scholefield, who holds the chair of English Literature at the University of Dunedin and who knows New Zealand inside and out, from the historic as well as the modern point of view; and Mr. F. H. Morgan, representing that business-like organization the New Zealand Press Association, a practical journalist, a helpful colleague, and one of the best of good fellows.

Although the main train journey was only decided upon a few hours before a start was made from Auckland, all the arrangements worked with extraordinary smoothness, and the number of people assembled at even the smallest wayside stations to cheer the Prince was astonishing. At Frankton, the first stopping-place after leaving Auckland, the gathering around the station consisted largely of the very railway men who had just been on strike. Their reception of the Prince had the special cordiality that carries a hint of apology. One of their number indeed, acting as spokesman, explained in a speech which could not be considered inopportune, how much they all regretted having been the cause of delay to the Royal tour. At Tekuiti, another small station, a more formal reception took place, in which some five hundred children, collected from the schools in the neighbourhood, participated with characteristic fervour.

Through the night the Royal train traversed the red-pine Waimarino forest, mounted two thousand feet up the Raurimu spiral, passed the still smoking summit of the Ngauruhoe volcano, and emerged at daylight upon the rolling plains of the rich Taranaki dairying country. Here pastoral land, though still dotted with the blackened stumps of bygone forest, is worth to-day anything up to one hundred and fifty pounds sterling per acre. Thence, passing beneath the snow-streaked cone of the extinct volcano Mount Egmont, the train rolled out upon the open western coast, and entered the gorse-encircled city of New Plymouth. Here the Prince was given a picturesque reception beneath spreading _Insignis_ pines, in a natural grass-covered amphitheatre, of beautiful Pukikura park. Conducted by General Melville, commanding the district, he inspected a large gathering of returned sailors, soldiers, nurses, and cadets. He also went through the ranks of masses of school-children, who waved long wands topped with white and red feathery _toi-toi_ grass, and sang patriotic songs. In the course of a reply, later on, to a civic address, read by Mr. F. Bellringer, General Manager of the Borough, the Prince referred to the splendid prospects of the north-west coast, also to its fine war record, adding: "When I look at the development of this wonderful dairying country, I am amazed at the enterprise and energy which have achieved so much in little more than two generations."

It is indeed amazing. Taranaki does much with butter, sending to such a competitive country as Canada nearly 12,000 cwts. in 1918, and even more with cheese, producing a particularly delectable Stilton. There are fifty-seven butter factories and one hundred and eleven devoted to cheese. To carve these conditions out of virgin forest in two generations is a feat that well deserved its recognition.

The route thereafter lay through a land of spacious, green sheep-downs, overlooking a blue, sun-lit sea, as idyllic as a pasture of the Eclogues. On the way, at Stratford, Hawera and Patea, the Prince received and replied to addresses and inspected gatherings of returned soldiers, sailors, nurses, and cadets, besides incredible numbers of fat, red-cheeked children, assembled with their teachers to do him honour. Speaking at Hawera, the scene of fighting in days gone by, between _Pakeha_--white strangers--and Maori natives, "Nothing," said His Royal Highness, "has impressed me more in New Zealand than the evidence I have found everywhere that Pakeha and Maori are now one people in devotion to the Dominion, the Empire and the King."

Proceeding afterwards to Wanganui, a more imposing welcome awaited him, ten thousand enthusiastic people being found assembled in a big grass-covered stadium. Here, some of the territorials he inspected insisted upon drawing his motor-car round the grounds. In the course of a reply to an address read by the Mayor, the Prince put into words what was so plain in his actions. "I value," he said, "more than anything the opportunity this journey gives me of making the acquaintance of the people of New Zealand, many of whose gallant sons I knew on active service in the great war." A visit followed to the Wanganui college, a fine institution where three hundred of the sons of the settlers of the Dominion are receiving up-to-date education upon British public-school lines. Later in the evening the Prince attended a concert, also a democratic supper-party of the heartiest description, held in enormous marquees, at which three thousand people were present. The Prince and his staff were served at a table on a raised platform in the middle of the biggest of the marquees, so that as many people as possible might see him, a distinction which apparently caused His Royal Highness no loss of appetite.

From Wanganui the Prince motored twenty-five miles through undulating fields of grass, turnips and rape, alternating with patches of yellow gorse, the last introduced from the old country by sentimental but ill-advised settlers, and now a most troublesome field-pest, special legislation having had to be introduced requiring owners of land, under penalty, to prevent its spreading. Crossing the wooded valleys of the beautiful Wanganui and Turakina rivers, the Ruahine mountains shining through the morning mists upon the left, while spacious sheep-farms sloped seawards upon the right, the Prince reached the township of Marton, where the usual inspections and addresses took place. Thence the party started by train to cross the country to the east coast port of Napier. Receptions were held, _en route_, at the townships of Feilding and Palmerston-North. In the course of the day the Prince received a number of presents, including, from Maori chiefs, an ancient and possibly unique greenstone _mere_ or battle-axe, and a fine _Wharikiwoka_--a mat-cloak lined with feathers. At Palmerston-North there was handed into his keeping the shot-torn colours actually carried by the third British Foot Guards at the battle of Alexandria as along ago as 1801. These colours had been handed down, from generation to generation, by New Zealand descendants of Colonel Samuel Dalrymple, who commanded this distinguished regiment in that engagement. They were presented to the Prince by Mrs. J. H. Hankins, _nee_ Dalrymple. The colours were said to be the only ones, belonging to a Guards regiment, hitherto preserved elsewhere than in the British islands.

Leaving Palmerston-North, the Prince proceeded through the gorge of the rushing, turgid Manawatu river, alighting at the small wayside station of Woodville, where a number of the inhabitants had assembled and where he shook hands with a territorial officer, who, with the gay adventurous spirit of the Dominion, had taken considerable risks in keeping pace with the Royal train in a motor-car all the way from Marton, though part of the route was along an unfenced winding mountain road on the side of a cliff where the slightest obstruction or miscalculation might have hurled the car and its occupants into the torrent below.

From Woodville the Prince went on, through wide grass-covered plains, dotted with pleasant homesteads, standing amidst thousands of browsing sheep, along the broad, shallow, shingly reaches of the Waipawa river, and past sunny apple-orchards, and coppices of oak, poplar and pine, at times skirting breezy uplands where he saw shepherds and their families, often from long distances in the interior waiting to cheer the train.

The arrival at Napier, on the east coast of the island, was late in the afternoon, in threatening weather. Yet the entire town of twelve thousand inhabitants seemed to have assembled in the streets, and the turn-out of returned sailors, soldiers, nurses, and cadets, at the beautiful Nelson Park, on the seashore, where a reception was held and an address presented by the Mayor, Mr. Vigor Brown, was most impressive. In the course of his reply, in this centre, the Prince once more referred to the quick coming prosperity of the land he had been traversing. "It is amazing," he said, "to think that all the homely, happy country I have seen on my journey here has been cleared, cultivated and civilized in the life of two generations. The measure of that splendid achievement is well reflected in this flourishing port and town."

The following morning the Prince was early afoot, yet the inhabitants made a fine showing in the streets, as the procession of motor-cars passed through to the station, where the Royal train was waiting to convey the party on the long run southwards to Wellington, the capital. The weather had cleared in the night and it was a lovely autumn morning as we skirted the waters of Hawkes Bay, which washed against the steep, white cliffs of Kidnappers' Island, still the home of thousands of strong-winged gannets the size of geese. Arrived at Hastings, a solid market town of ten thousand inhabitants, the Prince was conducted, through lanes of cheering people, to the racecourse. Here yet another large gathering of returned men, also territorials, cadets, nurses, and children, had assembled, and yet another civic address was presented and replied to. Similar experiences awaited the party at further stopping-places, including Waipukurau, Dannevirke, Woodville, and Pahiatua--the "place of God"--the number of the motor-cars, drawn up in the rear of the crowds, testifying to the prosperity of the farmer-folk, many of whom had been making fortunes out of the high prices of the mutton, wool and dairy-produce they raise. At Dannevirke--Dane Church--the Scandinavian origin of the township was reflected, not only in the name, but in the faces of whiskered vikings who were to be seen amongst those who came forward to shake hands with the Prince. They contrasted quite obviously with the conventional Anglo-Saxons around them, and recalled in their persons the fact that the settlement of Dannevirke was originally made by a ship-load of government-aided immigrants from Schleswig, Holstein.

After leaving Dannevirke, the Prince took a turn on the foot-plate of the engine of the train, which he drove at something like fifty miles an hour to Woodville, where he had halted the day before. At Woodville the track turned southwards through wilder country, including a certain amount of still uncleared bush. Even here, however, the land is being opened up, and I heard of farms changing hands at as much as seventy pounds per acre. As the afternoon progressed halts were made at various stations, including Featherston, where the Prince was received by cheering crowds from a military training camp near by. At dusk the train skirted the wide Wairarapa--lake of shining water--where wild swans still breed in some numbers. Here we seemed to have reached the end of the track, as high hills closed in on either side, and there was no sign of a tunnel. The big single engine, however, was replaced by three smaller ones of special make for mountain climbing, one of them being attached at either end of the train and the third in the middle. A start was then made up a zigzag track consisting of three rails, the third so fixed in the middle, between the other two, that pulley wheels beneath the body of the engines can get a purchase below it, thus completely wedging the train and preventing its too sudden descent in case of accident. Slowly then the train crawled up the gradient, which, in places, is no less than one in fifteen. On the way we passed heavy timber-fences erected to break the force of the wind, which has been known so strong, at times on this part of the line, as to overturn a train. In the darkness we crossed the Rimutaka--ridge of fallen trees--and slid smoothly down to the other side into the rich Hutt valley in which Wellington stands.