An indispensable means of transport in everyday colonial life, horses carried people, freight and mail. Riding or driving a horse recklessly became a major concern, so much so that the 1865 Hawke’s Bay Almanac’s listing of “Penalties under the Police Act” recorded “reckless riding” as the second most serious offence and that “every person who should ride or drive in a public thoroughfare, to endanger the life and limbs of passengers and others” would receive a substantial fine.
One case of reckless driving resulting in the death of a valuable mare, occurred March 24, 1894, when two boys driving a milk cart “at a fast pace” collided with Mr Goodman driving in the opposite direction. The boys swerved, causing one of the vehicle’s shafts to penetrate Goodman’s mare’s neck “just above the shoulder” and the other shaft, “striking the animal in the ribs”. Newspaper readers were advised that this was “another illustration of the danger of allowing boys to drive vehicles”.
Leaving horses unattended when harnessed to a vehicle increasingly became problematic, forcing the Municipal Council to issue a bylaw discouraging the practice. On March 20,1878, Bartholomew O’Rourke was charged with “leaving his cart unattended on Marine Parade”. When giving evidence in court, O’Rourke stated that he was removing rock from the Coote Rd quarry and backed his horse and cart into position. He commenced loading when “one of the prisoners working overhead let a stone fall” which hit the horse, causing it to “bolt at a furious rate through town”. His story was corroborated by “one of his mates who witnessed the affair”, so he avoided a fine.
When startled or frightened, even the most experienced horse could prove unpredictable. On March 5, 1877, Mr Gibbons, while delivering beer to houses near Clive Square left his cart and horse unattended. The horse “either feeling indisposed to wait for his driver or taking fright” bolted “at a furious rate upsetting the bottled beer out of the cart”. The driver and several on-lookers made “a rush after the runaway” which was successfully brought to a standstill, the only damage being the loss of alcohol.
Normally, when a team of horses came down a steep hill, a ‘careful’ driver would take the leading horses out of the shafts. Mr Steel of Waipawa was remiss in this when driving a loaded dray and team of three horses down Shakespeare Rd, on December 24, 1867. When the two young leaders “took fright” and “galloped off at a furious speed”, the more experienced shaft horse endeavoured to “check the headlong course of the leaders” without success. The horses were finally stopped in Hastings St but regretfully the shaft horse “was brought to the ground” sustaining deep cuts to its body.
During 1879, stray horses became a “nuisance in Napier”, especially at night when a person might unexpectedly get “in close proximity” to their dangerous hind quarters. During the day horses could be found “wandering the streets occasionally inflicting injuries upon wayfarers”. Frank Ledbury was strolling in Clive Square when a “stray cab horse” had “taken possession of the footpath near the Provincial Hotel”, kicking him in the face and “cutting it open to a considerable extent”.
Horsepower was often used to drive machinery, such as Torr & Company’s soda water machine, on Shakespeare Rd. Robert Willis, a 10-year-old lad, was in charge of directing the horse with a whip while sitting on one of the shafts. On March 24, 1868, the end of Robert’s whip got entangled in a wheel and while extricating it, his coat sleeve got caught, the force of the moving wheel wrenching his arm from the socket leaving it “hanging by one muscle”. Some time elapsed before he could be taken to Sealy Rd hospital, where Dr Spencer “secured the arteries” and amputated the arm.
The photograph, above, part of the Hawke’s Bay Museums Trust collection, was taken in 1898. It captures Hastings St, the road busy with horse-drawn carts, cabs, lone horses tied up and personal carriages. Looking at the image from a contemporary lens, the road rules appear scant, with vehicles arranged in a haphazard manner. One wonders what happened when the four vehicles in the forefront met.
* Gail Pope is a social history curator working with Hawke’s Bay’s MTG museum.