By Rhonda Bartle

There's a cairn down at Ngamotu Beach that tells a tragic tale.  It marks the final resting place of settler William Marshall, who arrived on the William Bryan in March 1841 and was dead by October.  Though few facts survive about him, some of his story can be told from what has been left behind. 

Emigration Fever

They called it emigration fever and William Marshall came down with it.  At 37, he worked as a labourer and coachman, but times were hard in England.  His wife Mary Anne was a year younger and came from Methodist Cornwall, where her father was a miner.  The couple had three sons under the age of ten; William, Samuel and Edward.

There was not a lot of future for farm workers in England. They laboured long hours for little pay with no chance of owning land and their children were destined to live the same way.  After discussions that must have lasted far into the night, William and Mary decided to emigrate to New Zealand.

They secured an assisted passage with the Plymouth Company, a subsidiary of the New Zealand Company set up by Edward Gibbon Wakefield, packed only those things they couldn't do without and went down to the Plymouth docks. 

How their hearts must have filled with excitement and trepidation as they peered through the pouring rain, trying to make out the William Bryan in the harbour.  Just a few days before, New Zealand had been declared part of the British Sovereignty, so perhaps, just for a moment, the new colony didn't seem quite so far away. 

But the noise of sailors swearing, pigs squealing, chickens squawking, children bawling and fathers threatening them with the backs of their hands brought them back to reality with a thump.  They were leaving Mother England, probably forever. If anyone was there to wave them off, we'll never know.

The William Bryan

The barque William Bryan measured 32m and weighed 315 tons.  Height between decks was less than 2ms. As well as the captain and crew she carried a surgeon and a pastor who also acted as midwife.

Altogether, 148 passengers were rowed in small boats to the ship where decks quickly turned ankle deep in muck from dirty boots.  The rain drenched everyone and everything. William and Mary looked around at all the people on board wondered where they were all going to fit.

What a way to leave England! Mary held her boys against her dripping skirts and surveyed the ship.  Most families had four children at least, so there was a total of 70 on board.

She pulled her own in closer.  They'd find no relatives, no roads, no houses, no schools and no hospitals where they were going.  They were leaving Mother England on the promise of one small square of land, sight unseen.

Settling into a sea voyage

Saying goodbye to everything you've ever known is never easy - and leaving wasn't easy either.  For two days the William Bryan, loaded and waiting to sail, sought shelter from violent gales - strong enough to blow a cottage off the cliffs - in nearby sounds. Passengers sat below decks and tried to mark out some territory to call their own.

Life on board would be very different for those above and below decks.  The upper class cabin passengers enjoyed privacy, space and good food, while those in steerage, packed in like herrings, had to eat, sleep and dress in full sight of the other passengers. Hastily erected curtains did little but keep their space.

While the more elite passengers, like the King and Chilman families, took cabin class, the Marshall's travelled in steerage.  Since steerage was below the water line, there were no portholes and no fresh air. Fear of fire meant lamps were hung in the safest places and locked until needed.

Metal bunks with fabric stretched over them stood three high against the walls. Family groups were herded together while others tried to find room amongst the barrels, ropes and sails. 

Single men and women were separated and given specific sleeping places.  Laundry and everything else was done in a bucket.  Diet was plain - mainly biscuits, salt meat, flour, rice and potatoes, which everyone cooked for themselves.

The bare hull sweated with condensation which made everything damp. The sound of the sea hitting the ship made it difficult to sleep and the rattle of tin dishes sounded over the groans of passengers being sick.

Making the most of things

Four months at sea is a very long time. Potatoes rotted in the hold and drinking water grew thick and poured like oil. Soon passengers complained bitterly about grand promises made by the company that had not been kept.

The best idea was to pass the time and keep everybody busy.  Maybe William took his boys on deck for the church service held each Sunday, or to listen to the music played at night, on guitar, fiddle, flute and copper kettle. 

Perhaps they watched as men took baths by having a rope tied around their waist and being plunged over the side into the ocean. 

Possibly they took lessons when a school started up and joined the other children when the weather turned cold, playing games to warm up.

They might have enjoyed the sight of flying fish, which often got caught in anchor chains, and the thrashing sharks and dolphins hauled over the side on bacon-baited hooks.  Any sailor who shot an albatross would soak it overnight to get rid of the fishy taste, and make pies from it the next morning. When a ship passed close enough, conversations were usually shouted over the water between decks.

Maybe the Marshall's witnessed a marriage ceremony on board, where the couple were given a spare hospital room for their honeymoon.  But perhaps Mary kept her boys in the hold when the tiny body of a premature baby was sewn into a sack and dropped over the side.

Land Ahoy

At long last, after 122 days at sea, land was heralded by one little dog who ran around in joyous circles all over the ship. The William Bryan pulled into Cloudy Bay where the most important passengers were rowed ashore to meet whaler John Guard.

From there they sailed on the last leg of the voyage to Taranaki, where the mountain loomed in the distance.  When anchor was dropped at the Sugar Loaves, Dicky Barrett fired his old cannon in welcome. 

As William Marshall surveyed the infant town of New Plymouth, he had no way of knowing that in seven months he'd be dead.

After a final restless night, he and his family gathered their things and took their places in the queue to be rowed ashore.  Barrett's whaling station lay to the right, and surveyor Frederick Carrington's 4450 hectares marked for settlement to the left. At least the weather was good.

Stepping onto unknown ground

They landed not knowing what their accommodation would be - communal sharing in one of the raupo huts Barrett had built or temporarily housed in a tent?

What the first settlers would have seen: The fledgling settlement of New Plymouth in 1841

Image: chromolithograph by George Duppa entitled "Part of the New Plymouth
settlement in the district of Taranake, New Zealand - Mount Egmont 30 miles distant".
(Ref: A96.622)

[+] Click here for larger image.

But there must have been great excitement as they explored the new colony, listening to the sounds of unknown birds and peering up at bush clad hills covered in unrecognisable trees. The Maori people were welcoming, and brought food to barter for ship's biscuits and clothes.

The cost of living was high, with many things more expensive than at home. When William found his allotted section, he might have planned to one day own a cow, to sell butter and milk.

What did he do in the meantime to feed his family? Possibly he found work with the surveyors or helped clear the land.  He might have immediately planted out garden with seeds brought from home.  As an agricultural labourer, his skills would have been prized but whether they meant wages or self-employment, we'll never know.

Keeping house in the early days

We do know that keeping house would have been difficult for Mary, with three rapidly growing boys. Houses were just wooden huts.  Furniture was made of wooden soap boxes and beds were sugar sacks filled with fern. 

There was firewood to collect each morning, clothes to wash, dry and mend, lessons for the children. Water was hauled from a stream or a well and lights were either candles or oil lamps that must be cleaned every day.

Cooking was done over an open fire in pots suspended on hooks from an iron frame. With no oven, bread was made with flour, soda and water and cooked on sticks over the coals.  If poultry was on the menu, feathers were carefully collected until there was enough to make a pillow.

Destiny is a horse that came by boat

We know that William Marshall's fondness for farm animals never waned.  When a horse arrived by boat from Kawhia for Mr Creed, the Wesleyan Missionary, it was William who jumped on its back and rode up and down the beach.  We can easily imagine his glee at being on a horse again. There were only two in the district at the time - a mare and foal owned by Barrett.

But in October when the horse fell ill, Creed took it to a surgeon with veterinary skills to be bled - a cure-all for every ailment at the time.  Though William Marshall held a foreleg to keep the horse steady, it lashed out, catching him so hard in the abdomen he would die within two days.

His family must have been swamped in sorrow as they watched him pass away.  All the way by ship from England to be buried here, before his time.  No relatives to help with the funeral arrangements or provide a shoulder to cry on. The tiny cemetery at Moturoa, next to the grave of Dicky Barrett's little daughter, a final resting place. 

A choice is made to stay

Though an offer was made 'to pass the hat' for enough money to send his widow and children home, Mary refused.  'It was William's wish to come here,' she said.  'For William we will stay.'

The following years must have been extremely difficult for Mary and the boys, and it's thought she took in laundry to survive. She would one day marry widower Samuel Mathews from the Amelia Thompson, after his wife Susannah died, leaving him seven children to raise. Together they had a daughter, Jane.

William's stone cairn stands beside Ngamotu Beach and reads:

In Memory of William Marshall

Passenger by the Wm Bryan

Accidentally killed 26th October 1841

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