84 THE VOYAGE OF THE 'DISCOVERY' [Dec. 



harbour, but New Zealand was determined we should know 

 how thoroughly it was interested in our venture and how 

 heartily it wished us success. Special trains from Christchurch 

 had borne thousands to the port to bid us farewell. Wharves 

 and quays were packed with enthusiastic figures. It was indeed 

 a great * send-off'; two men-of-war — the 'Ringarooma' and 

 ' Lizard ' — steamed out slowly ahead of us, whilst no fewer 

 than five gaily dressed steamers, crowded with passengers, and 

 with bands playing and whistles hooting, thronged about us. 

 Cheer followed cheer as we steamed out towards the ' Heads ' ; 

 assembled in the rigging, on mast or spar, our small party of 

 adventurers did their best to respond to this kindly expression 

 of good feeling, until, as we entered the open sea, with a last 

 burst of cheering and a final flutter of handkerchiefs, our kind 

 friends turned away, and slowly we steamed out between the 

 war-ships that seemed to stand as sentinels to the bay. 



And now, whilst our hearts were full of this leave-taking, 

 whilst with our glasses we could still discern the forms of our 

 friends in the receding vessels, there happened one of those 

 tragedies that awake one to the grim realities of life. Amongst 

 our enthusiastic ship's company who had crowded into the 

 rigging to wave their farewells, was one young seaman, named 

 Charles Bonner, who, more venturesome than the rest, had 

 climbed above the crow's-nest to the top of the main-mast. 

 There, seated on the truck, he had remained cheering with the 

 rest, until in a moment of madness he raised himself into a 

 standing position, supported only by the slender wind vane 

 which capped the mast. Precisely what happened can never 

 be known ; possibly the first of the sea swell caused him to 

 lose his balance ; we below only know that, arrested by a wild 

 cry, we turned to see a figure hurtling through the air, still 

 grasping the wind vane from the masthead. He fell head 

 foremost on the corner of an iron deckhouse, and death was 

 instantaneous. The body was borne through the confused 

 obstructions on the deck to the stern gratings, and covered 

 reverently with the Union Jack, whilst sadness and gloom 

 descended on the ship and damped for the time all thought 

 of our future in the South. Though this was on Saturday, 



