John Clark Lidiard (1789-1876) - Claims of An Old New Zealander.

A letter to the Southland Times (15 April 1869)

To the editor of the news.

Sir, - seeing that an effort is being made by some benevolent persons to lay before High Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh, on his visit to New Zealand, the claims of one Phillip Tapsell, an old Danish whaler, for services rendered by him years ago, in the vicinity of the Bay of Islands, by the recapture of a brig freighted with prisoners (en route from Sydney to Norfolk Island), who had overpowered the crew and guard.  I think it my duty to give publicity to the following narrative by one who was a participator and played a prominent part in the events referred to.  The statement was taken down from his own lips, and shows that it was through his instrumentality and sagacity that the plot was discovered and defeated.  I am only sorry this work has not fallen to the lot of an abler hand than myself, but in doing it, I feel that if Phillip Tapsell has a claim for compensation for services rendered, in common justice John Lidiard is equally deserving – Yours &c

Theophilus Daniel

PS:  I have the whole of John Lidiard’s life and career written from his dictation, and intend to publish it in the form of a pamphlet.  He now numbers 80 summers, but is still hale and hearty.  The proceeds of the sale of the work I intend to devote for his sole benefit, and, if each of the many who are acquainted with him, will do their best to assist me in this object, no doubt as he passes further down the vale of years, his path will be made smoother.

Verifiable in the Southland Times Archives.

 The Claims of an Old New Zealander

On the 2^nd May, 1821, I left the English whaler Vansittart, Captain Hunt, in the Bay of Islands, through having a few words with the chief mate – Mr Whippy.  Another of my shipmates also left, named Luke Wade.  No other white men were then living at Kororakara.  The missionaries were living about 9 miles from there at Kipuna – the Revs Thomas Kendall, Hall, and King.

 

Some years after, the English whaler Harriet, Captain Clerk, a full ship, came in for fresh provisions, and refitting before leaving for England.  The ship Sisters, whaler, Captain Duke, Mr Tapsell, chief mate, was getting in wood and water, refitting for another cruise, when a brig hove in sight.  At the time I was sawing timber (boat planks) for Captain Duke.  The natives cried out “sail ho!” and looking out, I perceived a whaleboat put off from the Sisters, and Captain Duke brought her in and anchored the brig outside the two whalers.  In about an hour after she was at anchor, I put off in my boat with a few Maoris, and when I got on deck was rather surprised to see a number of men dressed as soldiers on sentry over the different hatchways fore and aft, also over the cabin.  Everything looked suspicious.  In going forward, at the galley I met an old acquaintance cooking, named Tom Thornton, and giving him a hearty shake of the hand, asked him how he had been getting on since I last saw him in Sydney, and where the __ was he bound to.  He gave me a nod and a wink, at the same time pointing behind me, said, “to the Thames, to form a settlement.”  I looked round, and saw a powerful-looking fellow looking daggers at me.  I said, “Whatever did you bring soldiers with you, and what are they on guard for?”  Another hint from Tom – I was soon over the side, and down in my boat in a minute.  I went alongside of the Sisters and dived into the cabin.  I asked Captain Duke what he thought of her:  he said he did not know.  Mr Tapsell said he was sure they were prisoners, and had taken the brig.  

The sails were left unfurled, ropes hanging about loose, nothing looked shipshape in her, and confusion during the time she anchored, and ever since.  Said he, “I have watched her closely with my spyglass, and she ought to be detained.  If I can get help, she shall never go out of this until we do.”  Captain Duke replied, “I won’t have anything to do in it.”  The captain and officers of the ship Harriet, and also the crew, all to a man, said they had a full ship, and ready to sail for England, and would not interfere.  During my stay in New Zealand, the Rev. Henry Williams came there as a missionary.  Now this gentleman was a midshipman onboard the Endymion frigate, when she engaged the American Frigate, President.  I was a captain of the main-top at the time, in company on board the Majestic, 74, when the American vessel struck to us. 

The day after the brig anchored, some of the men were ashore getting wood and water.  The Rev. Mr. Williams went on board the brig, and there he saw Captain Hayward (the real captain).  He was trying to get some information, but could not; but in getting into his boat alongside, Captain Hayward threw over a pocket handkerchief with a note enclosed, saying, “you have left your handkerchief.”  He thanked him, and imagined there must be something in it, for it did not belong to him; so, unfolding it, he found a scrap of paper written on with pencil – “We are all prisoners; they have taken the brig.”  Next day he (the Rev. Mr Williams) goes on board of Captain’s Duke vessel, and tells him, “If I had the uniform I once wore in his Majesty’s service, she should never leave,” and induced the captain to get the two carronades hoisted out of the lower hold.  Tapsell and myself went among the crew, and told them that they were able to sink her, and if they let her go, the convicts would be sure to kill all the soldiers and crew of the vessel.  With this they all (of the Sisters) agreed to help Tapsell; I was sent on shore to rouse the Maoris, and get them in their canoes ready to board, and overpower the men.  So, next day being Sunday, the prisoners’ leader came alongside in his boat to get Captain Duke to take his vessel out.  He goes down in the cabin with Duke and while taking a glass of grog, Tapsell walks in and demanded him to deliver up the vessel, for he (Tapsell) intended she should never go out again except on her way to Sydney.  With this he leaves for the brig; Captain Duke even then was reluctant to meddle with her, as he stated they were a bloodthirsty set of villains, and would slay them all in cold blood.  

“Well then,” said Tapsell, “here goes,” and going on deck he cried out to the rest of the officers, if they were men, to assist him.  He then prepared the small arms, lances, and cutting in spades, and all ready, hoisted up the English ensign, and “bang” send a ball right into her quarter.  After half-a-dozen shots he could not see a soul on deck.  All at once a white flag was held out; Tapsell jumps into his boat and goes alongside, and finds it was the carpenter of the brig who was sent up by the prisoners to have a parley – they would give up the brig on condition of being allowed to go ashore.  About twenty had got ashore, and these Captain Duke and Tapsell wished me to go and get the Maoris to take, which I did.  In a short time I had sixteen, some with ropes around their necks, and arms pinioned, and a couple of natives in charge of each, and a dozen or so armed with spears and tomahawks following.  A few got away.

I was whaling out of Jacob’s River in the schooner Amazon, Captain John Howell, just launched from there, about 100 tons.  This was in the year 1845; and in 1846 we called in at Port Nicholson.  There I perceived one of the men who escaped into the bush during the time I and the Maoris were taking the rest to the vessel.  He was dressed in rags, with a bundle of wood on his back.  I expect he was then residing at one of the Maori kaiks.  I called him by name and he looked round at me with some surprise.  I walked on.  I don’t believe he had heard that name spoken for years before.  He was more of a Maori than a European.

Now, Mr Editor, I have seen over 80 summers pass over me, and consider that I deserve my case to be laid before his Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh.  Not that I wish to say one word against poor Tapsell.  I knew him to be a brave and kind man, and frequently met him during the time I was heading a boat in Enderby’s employ in the South Sea whalers Indian and Rambler; and also in Mr Bennet’s ships.  I was first out in New Zealand in 1817.  I served in one of his Majesty’s war-ships during the war in the Baltic and the American war, and was at the taking of the American frigate President, &c 

John Clark Lidiard

Post Script

The account of  Lidiard's life, that Theophilus Daniel refers to in the post script to his letter above, unfortunately has become lost over time. Rumour has it that copies do exist, but as yet, none have been found. Should anyone reading this by chance come across such an account, I would be most appreciative to receive a copy.  

John Clark Lidiard (1789-1876): The Early Years

John Clard Lidiard
Wallace Early Settlers Museum

John Clark Lidiard was one of New Zealand’s earliest pioneers, one whose success and longevity were due to his learning early in life how to cope with hardship.

Lidiard’s early life began in the port town of Deptford in England where he was born in 1789.  Deptford at that time was a prosperous Royal Navy Dockyard shipbuilding town—building, victualling and repairing the wooden warships of the Napoleonic wars.

John’s father, James Lidiard, was a seaman but little else is known of him. It is likely he was pressed into service for the navy and spent most of his time at sea, leaving his wife, Anne, to raise their son as best she could.

The Marine Society may have provided John an opportunity to be educated as we know that he was both proficient at reading and writing, unusual for many seamen at that time. And through the Society it is probable that John, like many young boys, volunteered for a life at sea to serve out his apprenticeship, to further his education and to earn a living.

John was 11 when he first went to sea during the Battle of Copenhagen in 1801. He probably started as a ship’s boy and it is possible that he sailed into battle on HMS Blanche. The Blanche was a warship, built and manned in Deptford in November 1800, that sailed to join Sir Hyde-Parker’s fleet in Yarmouth bound for the Baltic.

John Lidiard’s naval career lasted for 16 years until the end of the Napoleonic Wars. And because of his early start at sea, John would have developed both skill and agility in performing his duties as a Jack Tar, capabilities that would hold him in good stead.

 Captain of the Maintop

 By his own account, John Clark Lidiard was at the Blockade of Boston (1812) aboard the HMS Majestic, a 74-gun ship-of-the-line. 

By this time Lidiard was Captain of the Maintop, a position both of responsibility and respect requiring the seaman to perform skilled and challenging work at the top of the rigging—regardless of  sailing conditions.

In January 1815, HMS Majestic, which had recently  been razeed down to a 58-gun flagship under Capt. John Hayes, was one of several British ships to pursue and challenge the USS President.

HMS Belleraphon

Not long after returning to England, Lidiard transferred to HMS Bellerophon (aka ‘Billy Ruff’n’). She was a 74-gun ship-of-the-line that saw action at the Glorious First of June, the Battle of the Nile, and the Battle of Trafalgar.  John was apparently aboard her later in 1815 when she took on her most famous passenger—Napoleon Bonaparte—and escorted him to Portsmouth.

With Napoleon in custody the war with France was finally over and the crew of HMS Bellerophon was paid off. John Clark Lidiard probably returned home looking for work but to no avail. With hundreds of thousands of sailors and soldiers returning home, there just weren’t enough jobs for them to fill.

From Sailor to Whaler

With the war over and his career in the Royal Navy at an end, Lidiard’s prospects of work in England were not promising. He was a seaman, an excellent one at that, and it made good sense for a seaman to stick with what he was good at. So Lidiard sought a new career at sea—he went whaling.

On August 11, 1817 John Clark Lidiard left England on the whaler Indian under Captain William Swain and set sail for the other side of the world. After eight months at sea, the Indian arrived in the Bay of Islands in April 1818 along with another whaler, Foxhound.

From the Bay of Islands the Indian sailed for Sydney Cove where she was to deliver a cargo of Porter’s Ale, slop clothing and soap.   After a month in Sydney Cove,  Indian left for the Southern fisheries.

  

Lidiard returned home to England in July 1819 after nearly two years at sea hunting whales.  He had successfully made the transition from jack tar  to whaler. Whether he knew it or not then, his fortunes had changed and this would be his last trip home to England.

Pakeha-Maori in the Bay of Islands

It was aboard the whaling ship Vansittart under the command of Capt. Thomas Hunt, which left England in January 1820, that John returned to the Bay of Islands accompanied by shipmates Thomas Davis, James Sawyer, and Luke Wade from Indian. John was a boat steerer (see later article) for the Vansittart which made several trips to the Bay of Islands in early 1821. 
  

In May of that year, after a falling out with the chief mate William Whippy,  Lidiard and Luke Wade jumped ship and, as the only white men on land at that time, came under the protection and jurisdiction of the local Ngati Manu chief Pomare.

Pomare was an astute leader and recognized the value to having Pakeha residents in his community. He was keen for trade and cultivated potatoes and kumara for that purpose. He wanted muskets and gun-powder and by using Pakeha members of the community as negotiators, he was able to secure weapons in good working order.

These men that came to live in the community were known as Pakeha-Maori. Though his friend Luke Wade joined the Wesleyan Mission station at Whangaroa about 2 years after jumping ship, Lidiard stayed at Kororareka, and lived as the Maori lived, possibly taking a Maori wife.

'Kororareka' painting by Augustus Earle;
the colour print was published in 1938.

We know that John Clark Lidiard stayed at Kororareka for at least six years. While we have little evidence of his activities at that time, we do know that he was there in January of 1827 as he left us a personal account of the part he played during the recapture of the brig that had been taken by prisoners.

Read more about John and life in New Zealand in my next blog: ‘Claims of an Old New Zealander’.