Pages From The Past

The Odyssey of the “Takitumu”

By Julian Hillas

TJNRECORDED in Lloyd’s Register and commanded for the greater part of her three years afloat by a ticketless skipper, the 97-tons schooner Takitumu was from first to last enveloped in a Gilbertian atmosphere of light opera.

Even on her final and most spectacular voyage this same air of semi-comedy was inextricably mixed with hair-breadth escapes and quasi-tragedy.

Five and forty years ago communication between Rarotonga (Cook Islands) and New Zealand was irregular and uncertain, and although a ready market for Islands oranges lay waiting in that Colony, the fruit itself often lay rotting on the ground 1800 miles away. To rectify this the in habitants of Ngatangiia village deter mined to build a vessel of their own. A mass meeting was called and there it was decided to carry out their project with the aid of an old but experienced boat builder named Rapu, a native from the Austral Island of Rimatara.

This settled, the whole district set to work felling timber, tamanu for ribs, moto for the keel. But as horses were scarce in those days trees cut on the mountain side had to be dragged to the settlement over roads little better than rough tracks through the bush. Men, women and children worked together, and as the days passed the skeleton of the new ship rose gradually on a crudely improvised “bed.”

A cargo of oranges was despatched to New Zealand by Captain Goodwin with instructions to spend the proceeds on planking and other necessities. Return ing to Rarotonga, Goodwin’s schooner ran foul of the reef opposite Ngatangiia harbour and the villagers dismally watched their timber pound to match wood on the knife-edged coral.

Delay followed delay. Another con signment of oranges left and eventually the planking arrived back. Meanwhile an anchor and cable had been acquired by the simple expedient of salvaging both articles from Captain Goodwin’s ill-fated

vessel. From a second wreck in Mangaia rigging, shrouds and a wheel were also obtained.

As the time for launching drew near a large clumsy structure was erected out of ironwood trees on the shore of a small motu opposite the proposed slipway. For days men peeled, scraped and twisted purau bark, knotting it into lengths and joining these together until a great rope, thick almost as a man’s body, stretched from the ship to the capstan, a distance of some two or three hundred yards.

To bring the vessel from the perpen dicular on to her side Rapu hit upon a novel and ingenious method. Scores of inario plants—a tall, thick and succulent stemmed variety of banana —were cut and placed against the starboard side of the schooner. A man with a hammer was assigned to each plant and at the order “Patia!” (Strike) the whole row simul taneously struck the upper ends of the spongy textured marios. Imperceptibly the ship listed over. “Patia!” —and the hammers swung again, only this time they struck lower, and as the blows were repeated the vessel slowly sank on to a prepared carriage of logs.

Pulling on the rope and using the trunks of trees for rollers it took the villagers a further four days to drag her to the edge of the lagoon wheare with one last turn of the clumsy capstan still to go, work was stopped and preparations begun for a feast which was to include the entire island.

On the night before the launching, cooking fires blazed among the palms, native ovens dug in the sandy soil glowed red, and the squealing of hundreds of pigs gradually gave place to the pungent fatty odour of roasting pork.

Next day, with songs and dancing and amid scenes of the wildest enthusiasm the capstan bars were manned and the vessel launched into deep water.

At first the Takitumu carried oranges to New Zealand, trading her cargoes for copper to plate her bottom and sides.

But, this attended to, her numerous owners now felt it incumbent upon them to accompany the ship on a tere, or gigantic picnic party, around the neigh bouring islands, taking with them a large selection of native mats, coconut oil, soap and other articles as gifts for their respec tive hosts.

The first port of call was Mangaia, which they reached after seven days—a distance of 118 miles! There, what with one thing and another, the junketings were so protracted that at the end of a month all the presents originally intended for the remainder of the Group had been given to the Mangaians, and the tere, ashamed of its empty-handed condition, returned to Rarotonga.

But before setting out again, important changes were made. Captain Rennie, a European, resigned from his position as Master and his place was taken by Tuaua, a former member of the crew whose am bitions had led him to study the rudi ments of seamanship and such pickings of nautical knowledge as he was able to abstract from books and charts formerly belonging to Captain Goodwin. Tuaua must have been a man of considerable intelligence, for when objections were made to his taking out the schooner he promptly appeared before Captain Emil Piltz, who passed him as competent.

Steering for Mauke Island, the Takitumu sailed cheerfully across empty seas for five days! Shortage of food then causing anxiety to the picnic party, a general meeting was called of all passengers, amongst whom were two master mariners, old Rapu, the builder of the ship, and a half-caste, Ben Cummings.

It then transpired that three separate courses were regularly set, and by following each in turn the Takitumu had been zig-zagging energetically across the Pacific!

Somewhat dismayed by this state of affairs the meeting ordered Rapu and Cummings to “lay off,” with the result that two days later Tuaua brought the vessel safely and accurately to Aitutaki.

Thence, by easy stages, the tere circum navigated the lower Cook Islands, finally returning home. Thereafter, for the next couple of years, the Takitumu ran be tween the Cook, Austral and Society Groups, making periodical calls at Tahiti, Rurutu and Rimatara.

At this time the reefs of Penrhyn—7oo

odd miles north from Rarotonga—were well-known as an ocean cemetery for careless or unwary sailors, and on the atoll’s boulder strewn beaches lay a veritable lumberyard of valuable timber which the thrifty islanders, having no usk for it themselves, were always willing to trade for fresh foodstuffs such as could not be raised on their own sparse sandy soil.

In July, 1894, the Takitumu spread her now weather-worn canvas and with a cargo of mape nuts, taro, kumura, kape, yams and bananas sailed for Penrhyn on what eventually turned out to be her last and lengthiest voyage.

Fair breezes sped the schooner north to within 80 miles of her destination, where they left her becalmed until the morning, several days later, when a squall suddenly blew two of her three jibs into shreds, heeled her over at a dangerous angle, placing such a strain upon the remaining canvas that before sail could be reduced the forestay carried away and the mainsail was also in tatters.

Running before the wind in a south westerly direction, all hope of beating back to Penrhyn was quickly abandoned, and Tuaua wisely decided to set a course which he fervently hoped would bring them to Samoa.

For weeks they drifted helplessly with patched and inadequate sails. Sometimes the wind blew strongly, and sometimes it scarcely blew at all. Meanwhile they lived upon the provisions intended for the Penrhyn islanders.

Nukunono, in the Tokelau Group, was the first land to be sighted. A low atoll, it appeared towards evening as a faint green smear on the horizon. Working round to the lee side of the island the schooner fell in with a large fishing canoe whose nearly naked occupants were easily persuaded to come aboard where they speedily succumbed to the novel charms of a mouth organ. This so captured their fancy that hauling up their canoe they prepared to “make a night of it.”

In the morning Nukunono had dis appeared. Fortunately, however, a light wind sprang up and by noon the tops of the trees were again visible. Steering for these, Tuaua and one of the crew paddled off with their new friends, reach ing land at 4 a.m. Next day the schooner stood in close to the reef whilst most of those on board went ashore, where a lone Portugese trader presented them with a bale of gunny sacks and several balls of twine for substitute sails, and, the natives having also contributed a number of rau ara mats for the same purpose, the Takitumu continued on her way, arriving at Fakavao in the same Group twenty-four hours later. There she obtained a further supply of sacks and mats.

From Fakavao they made Puka Puka, after endless trouble with their sack and matting sails. The former split under the least strain while the later chafed constantly so that they were forever obliged to be at work sewing and patch ing up the damage.

At Rakahanga, which they visited next, the entire ship’s company spen,t four days ashore, leaving the vessel in charge of a 14-year-old boy and a volunteer crew of local natives!

At last, five months after setting out from Ngatangiia, the Takitumu limped into Penrhyn lagoon, cargoless and crippled. They were able to borrow an other mainsail and replenish their sup plies. With these, and a fair wind, they then started on the last 700-miles lap.

Five days later the mountains of Raro tonga rose above the horizon and soon the voyagers were able to distinguish the

buildings in Avarua settlement. Food stuffs were now divided out equally, but just as all hands were preparing to make harbour the wind suddenly veered and the Takitumu commenced a backward and forwards manoeuvre which continued for exactly a month, each evening the wind bringing her within view of land and each morning dropping her back out of sight of those onshore. Finally, with their provisions almost finished, a half gale blew them 140 miles out to sea, where they fell in with a three masted barque bound for Australia. Fortified by a gift of flour, potatoes and kerosene they struggled back under two sails, only to be in imminent danger of repeating their previous will-o’-the-wisp performance.

During the night, a number of whale boats put out from shore to investigate a phenomenon which had begun to worry the islanders, and in the morning the Takitumu found herself surrounded and boarded by friends who had long since given her up as lost at sea. One boat was despatched to shore and, having re turned with a new set of sails, the schooner entered Ngatangiia passage on a Sunday, seven months to a day from the time of her departure. Tuaua and his crew were met by wives and daughters whose hair had been cut short in mourn ing, but whose grief had fortunately prevented them acquiring fresh husbands.

Two weeks later, a hurricane smashed down on the island and the Takitumu, at anchor in Ngatangiia harbour, was driven ashore and there quickly battered to pieces by the great waves which thun dered across the lagoon. Thus ended, in a little over three years, the career of the first and only vessel of any size to be built in Rarotonga entirely by nativfe labour.