By Electric Telegraph
Dr Daniel McCambridge died this afternoon from internal injuries and broken ribs, caused by a fall from a horse last Sunday night, while he was on his way to see a patient. -Evening Star, 24/6/1872.
MEDICAL PRACTICE IN OTAGO AND SOUTHLAND IN THE EARLY DAYS.
By Robert Valpy Fulton, M.D,
MANIOTOTO COUNTY AND THE EARLY DOCTORS OF THE DISTRICT.
DANIEL McCAMBRIDGE.
Naseby, the county town of Maniototo, began its existence with a few shanties and huts when the goldfields were discovered in. 1861, and here as elsewhere was the mushroom growing "canvas town," a source of wonder to all in the neighbourhood. Previous to this, the various stations in the locality —Puketoi, of Murison's; Linnburn, of Greig and Tnrnbull's; Highfield, of Comberg and Douglas; Taieri Lake, of Phillip's and Seal's (afterwards Gairdner and Main's) Maniototo, of Chapman's; Patearoa, of Buchanan's (previously Valpy's); Eweburn, of Maitland's, and many miles further away Galloway, Earnscleugh, and Matakanui, had their homesteads, and their outlying huts, but rivers were difficult to cross — there were as yet no boats or punts, and even the usual shanty where drinks of a kind could be bought for a shilling a nip, had not yet arrived. Naseby is on the northern end of the Maniototo Plain, and lies at the foot of the Mount Ida Range, about 100 miles from Dunedin by railway; it stands well up at an elevation of about 2000 ft above sea level; possesses a clear, bracing climate, and long before the idea became prevalent throughout the province that this place was an ideal one for sufferers from the "White Man's Scourge." Dr Alex. Hunter, of Dunedin, when visiting a very bad surgical case in the neighbourhood in 1864, expressed the opinion that the country at the Hogburn or across at Hamiltons was where some day should be erected hospitals or homes for consumptives. Consider the Hogburn goldfield, the miners' tents and shanties in the near neighbourhood; the stations mentioned, with others further on at St. Bathans, Ophir, and Rough Ridge: the "rushes" to Hamiltons and Blackstones Hill and elsewhere, the shepherd's huts scattered and out-flung among the mountains and passes: the Taieri River in flood a serious and highly dangerous obstacle; ranges covered 10 to 15 feet with snow; the "burns" in the district (so named by some facetious surveyor of J. T. Thomson's entourage, Sowburn, Kyeburn, Wedderburn, Hogburn, Eweburn, Fillyburn, Houndburn), streams when in spate no small puddles to be waded through; roads few indeed; bridle tracks leading every where; when waggons found a passage or heavy "draughts" struggled through the country "leads of clay" but dignified with the name of roads becoming speedily bogs; and we see that the trials of the first medical man to settle in the district must have been indeed great. A bleak, often windy district; heavy drifts of snow in the passes and gullies over which the tracks wended; no hope of getting anywhere save on horseback or on foot; 10, 20, 50 mile trips not bv any means infrequent, and into this district, and to this class of practice came Daniel McCambridge in 1861. With the great rush of diggers he came to the Hogburn, and tried his luck with shovel and cradle, but was soon selected and persuaded, more or less peaceably, to practise the gentler Arts of Healing. The pay may have been better, this we very much doubt; but the exchange from gold-digger to general practitioner was, we are certain, no easement of mind or body, and that we shall soon make clear to our readers.
McCambridge, an Irishman, from the County of Antrim, was born in 1830, took his M.D. Degree at Dublin University, and after serving several years as a naval surgeon in the Crimean and Mexican Wars, came to New Zealand when the gold discovery was first announced. The story is that as a rough looking digger in courduroy breeches, and blue flannel shirt, bearded like the pard, hands calloused, feet encased in heavy clay-be-smeared top-boots, seeing a man carried past his claim evidently seriously injured, he made an angry ejaculation at the way the bearers handled the sufferer. He was immediately challenged, amidst a volley of oaths, "what the ____ do you know about it." He speedily showed what he knew, and was at once pounced upon by a Committee of Public Safety, or some such organisation got up on the spur of the moment, and begged, persuaded, or compelled to give up his gold seeking, and to administer First, Second, and All the Time Aid to the Iniured. Whether he was offered a subsidy or guarantee we know not, but of this our readers may be sure, the rough diggers of those days were men, first and last, sympathetic to a degree, ready to give their last ounce of gold or pound of flour to anyone in genuine distress. Thus began the career of Daniel McCambridge, the young, strong, sturdy Irishman, at the Hogburn in 1862. It will be seen that the terrible hardships, the fearful exposure, the same self-sacrificing devotion to the ailments and injuries of others, the same readiness to respond at all hours, and in all seasons had the same tragic result in his case as we have described it in that of Halley, of Tuapeka, and 10 years, a mere span of 10 years, was sufficient to lay low that powerful frame, to quench that dauntless spirit, leaving nothing to show for all that he bad done but a plain grey stone with its pitiful tale: "Died from injuries received while in the discharge of his duty." He was a big burly man, fair-haired, fullbearded, as was then the fashion, sturdy, broad-shouldered, and strong; weighing 16 stone, he was no light weight for the work he faced. A cultured and well-educated gentleman, not by any means rough or uncouth, his knowledge of medicine and surgery was really good. Many the rough trip he had, to cross the Taieri River at Ryan's Crossing (where the bridge is now), was most risky, none dared to ford or even try to swim it if a certain tussock, which was a landmark, was submerged. The gullies and tracks were often many feet deep in snow, the snowfall on the level often six inches deep, on the hills, or in the passes it might be anything. The air clear and the frosts intense, McCambridge's journeys were a veritable trial to a man of the strongest constitution. In the first few years of the diggings there was no hospital, and the doctor had to care for his patients as best he could in their own scattered homes. Many lives were lost through the impossibility of the doctor's giving them the constant attendance and supervision which a nearby institution would provide. Finally a man was brought in from Mount Buster, badly frost-bitten; and there being no recognised accommodation for him, a committee, headed by Mr James Brown, collected a sum of money; a room was secured at the Ancient Briton Hotel, and was utilised for this; and any other cases which might, and in time, did come along. Mr R. F. Inder thus describes his early recollections of this incident: "As accidents were frequent in those days, and most of the miners unmarried, living in huts and tents, often alone, sickness or accident was a very serious matter. The Miners' Relief Fund Committee was formed, and they arranged with the hotelkeeper of the Ancient Briton for a room, and his wife to act as a nurse for such cases as occurred. On one wet and stormy night I was sent (being then a small bov) with a message to this lady, and was directed to the billiard room, where there was only one table. The walls of this room were seven feet high, the ceiling of course higher, following the pitch of the rafters half-way up. A game was in progress, and the room was crowded, and I have a distinct recollection of the unpleasantness of the atmosphere being thick with tobacco smoke, etc. Hearing a violin being played at one end of the room, I went to investigate. In a recess, with only a curtain to separate it from the billiard room, was a bed, and propped up in it was a miner known as 'G. Sharp,' who used to act as musician at concerts and dances. He had some time before met with an accident by which he had broken his leg, and laid out some hours in the cold before he was discovered and brought in. In spite of all this, he made a good recovery, and lived for many years after. He was known to many a schoolboy as the owner of a donkey which had been left behind by a circus, and was always known as 'G. Sharp's.' A few years later, a number of the residents began to agitate, and were successful in establishing the present fine hospital, which admirably serves its purpose. Dr McCambridge was the first surgeon in 1870, and was succeeded by Drs Dick, the two brothers Whitton, Jeffreys, Church, Macknight, and others. The work done by McCambridge made its mark upon him, and aged him speedily. When he had to go to Mount Buster Diggings he had to ride through very rough country up to the level of the Mount Ida Range, at an altitude of over 4000 ft. At this height he had to travel for over a mile and a-half, following the crest of the range before descending the steep face to his destination some 2000 ft lower. This crest was the place from which Sergeant Garvey rode in a heavy snowstorm, when he met his death in the winter of 1863; he followed along the range and took the wrong spur against his companions' advice, and rode down into the much broken country of the watershed of the Otamatakau, a tributary of the Waitaki, instead of bearing to the right into the watershed of the Kyeburn, a tributary of the Taieri. Here he got into deep snow, and was found dead a few days after, with his horse near him, both frozen stiff. A cairn was erected in the neighbourhood to his memory. . . . On one occasion, Dr McCambridge was called to Taieri Lake Station, and as the story has been told by the late J. J. Ramsay, we repeat it. It is constantly referred to throughout the district as Heaney's Ride, and will be handed down for centuries as one of the many instances of heroism performed by those rugged pioneers, any one of whom was willing to risk life and limb when he heard that a fellow creature was stricken unto death. Heaney's Ride was a great one, and we have no wish to detract from an entire acknowledgment of Heaney's grit, and pluck, and endurance, but what Heaney did once, Dick and McCambridge did probably half a dozen times a year, and they shortened their lives to a mere span by their constant attention to the wants of others. To the layman Heaney's ride is unique, to the doctors of those inclement plains and mountains 50 miles one night, 30 the next day, 60 the third, and so on, was their ordinary work, and none so interested as to tot the miles up, or to discuss their frequent and perilous journeys. Heaney had a long and trying experience; from Taieri Lake Station to Hyde was a comparatively simple matter, thence as far as the Crossing near what is now Kokonga, was a succession of broken, steep, and jumbled spurs, a nasty and dreary piece of road; the crossing itself, difficult, and dangerous in bad light, being rough and full of loose boulders; then a gradual ascent, and a long trying crest of the hill for many miles exposed to a cold, bleak south or south-west wind before finally coming down to Naseby or Hogburn. Thus J. J. Ramsay, to the Maniototo Early Settlers' Association: "The scene, Taieri Lake Homestead. Main, the head shepherd lay sick unto death. It was winter time, snow everywhere, and no doctor nearer than Naseby, 36 miles distant. The manager of the station (Mr Chisholm) selected Jimmy Heaney, the groom, to go to Naseby for the doctor. Mounted on his nag, Jimmy set out. Picture his task, 36 miles through snow lying everywhere, no tracks or roads, and the air freezing you to the bone. Add to that a tumble from his horse owing to his falling in the snow, and a sprained ankle as the result, and you have saddled Jimmy with a fairly decent handicap. But every bit of Jimmy's little cantankerous body was grit, and he landed in Naseby on time. To get Dr McCambridge to come was the work of some time, but at last they started on the outward journey. Warned by his experience coming up, Jimmy was anxious to make haste slowly, but not so the doctor, who galloped away at a reckless speed, and as the result got a spill and a broken limb some miles down the Kyeburn Road. On coming up to him, Jimmy secured the horse and managed, though but a wee chap, to lift the 16-stone doctor on, and trudged back to Naseby when, after a long delay, consequent upon attending to the injured man, Dr Dick was obtained, and the second attempt to reach the Taieri Lake successful. Jimmy had ridden 72 miles, that would try a man of herculean endurance, and he sought his bed at once. Scarcely had he got there, however, before Mr Chisholm excitedly came to him saying that unless he could go again to Naseby for the necessary medicine, Howe would certainly die. Jimmy naturally demurred, but when it was pointed out to him that there was no one else who knew where to go to, he at once rose and said: 'Well, sor, if Isaac Howe is to die unless I go, I'll try it.' And try he did; the 72 miles was repeated, the medicine brought, and Howe's life, for the time, saved. Such is the story of Jimmy's famous ride." In all, Heaney travelled 36 miles to Naseby, six miles out to Kyeburn where McCambridge fell, and six back to Naseby, then with Dr Dick to his patient at Taieri Lake, and then to Naseby and back with the medicine; altogether a notable journey for a layman, and one which has become history. On this occasion McCambridge seriously injured himself, sustaining a severe fracture of the leg, but under the skilful hands of Dr Dick he recovered. Two years later, when riding out on the same road, he came to one of the outgates where dogs were tied and left for days, as was then the custom to act as protectors or guardians of the flocks of sheep at cross roads. This was a cruel custom, which we think has largely been discontinued. The dog jumped out suddenly and startled the doctor's horse, which shied and threw him heavily against the gate, fracturing several ribs, and causing penetration of the lung with resulting septic pneumonia. This proved fatal within a few days. The following reference appeared in the Mount Ida Chronicle of June 21, 1872: — "A more Dainful duty than that which we now have to perform has not since our advent here been our province to record. We allude to the death of Dr Daniel McCambridge, who expired yesterday at his residence about 4 p.m. On Sunday night last, Dr McCambridge was called upon to attend suffering humanity at Hyde, and with that general kind-heartedness for which the deceased was celebrated, went on his errand of mercy notwithstanding the heavy fall of snow and the severe frost which covered the ground. Between Naseby and Kyeburn (near what is known as Sander's gate), through some mishap, up to the present time unexplained, the doctor was thrown from his horse, the fall resulting in the breaking of several ribs and the infliction of external as well as internal injuries, to the effects of which he succumbed on the afternoon of yesterday. The loss which the place has suffered by the death of Dr McCambridge will not easily be supplied. For a number of years the only medical practitioner in the district, there are few who have not something to say of his humanity, urbanity, and ability. We cordially endorse what is said by many: 'A good man has departed. Peace be with his ashes.' Dr McCambridge leaves a wife, but no children."
June 28. 1872.—" Funeral of Dr McCambridge. The people of Naseby have always shown respect to the memory of the dead, and the funeral procession of Sunday last, on the occasion of the interment of the late Dr McCambridge, exceeded all that have heretofore taken place in the district. At two o'clock the streets were filled with people desirous of paying their last tribute of respect to the departed, and over 400 mourners followed the remains to the grave."
The memorial in the Naseby Cemetery ist of plain Oamaru Stone, and bears the following inscription:— "Sacred to the memory of Daniel McCambridge, Esq., M.D., who departed this life at Naseby, by a fall from his horse, while in the discharge of his duties. Erected by his sorrowing widow, in token of affectionate remembrance of a faithful and loving husband. When memory pours the silent tear, And seeks the friend, who once was dear, The kindred friend, too quickly fled, Too early numbered with the dead." -Otago Witness, 5/10/1920.
Daniel's widow, Agnes, remarried (I believe but am not sure) and died as "Mrs Hugh McDonald."
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