ROYAL HUMANE SOCIETY
APPLICATIONS FOR AWARDS.
The following applications for awards have been received by the Secretary: — On behalf of Andrew L. Fogo, Ernest Daveys, and Joseph Heward, who, on November 8th, rowed through a heavy surf at Purakanui, and rescued from, drowning Charles Begg and L. Moor, who were clinging to an overturned boat. The rescuers took half-an-hour to reach the boat, and an hour to pull back against the ebbing tide, during which time they shipped several heavy seas. -Press, 4/12/1903.
HEWARD. — On the 17th January, at her residence, Purakanui, Margaret, the beloved wife of Joseph Heward; aged 68 years. R.I.P. -Otago Daily Times, 1/2/1904.
TO PROPRIETOR KEA OINTMENT, Dunedin.
About three years ago I received an injury, to my face, and for some reason the wound did not heal (it having developed into a running sore), although I tried several remedies. About a year ago I heard from a friend about your Kea Ointment, and my friend strongly urged me to try it; So I procured a box, with the result that, after using half a box, my face was completely healed, the cure taking about two months, and the trouble has not returned since. This unsolicited testimonial you can make use of in any way you wish. If it will be the means of others being cured by your Ointment it will have served its purpose. —Yours gratefully, JOSEPH HEWARD, Purakanui.
For Piles, Goitre, Eczema, Cuts, Burns, and all Sores. Sold by Peterson and Co., George and Walker streets; Allan and Smith, King street; Benfell, King street; T. Maw, King street; and Mulquin, South Dunedin. -Otago Daily Times, 21/11/1908.
Purakanui, a favourite seaside resort, has lost a well-known figure by the sudden death of Mr Joseph Heward, familiarly known as "Old Joe." Deceased, who lived alone, was not seen about as usual on Saturday morning; but this occasioned no surprise to residents, as he had been to Port Chalmers the day previous, and after that journey usually spent the morning in bed. As the afternoon wore on, however, and he did not make his appearance, a young man — a visitor from Dunedin — went to the house to investigate the cause, and help him if need be, and found the old man in bed, apparently asleep, but on approaching the bedside he was startled to find that "Old Joe" was dead. Deceased was about 80 years of age, and had resided in Parakanui for some 40 years, until recently following the occupation of a fisherman. His patriarchal appearance, his interest in children and animals, and his stories of early sailoring days combined to make him a particularly well-known character of the district. At the inquest Dr Borrie gave evidence that death was due to heart disease and congestion of the lungs, and a verdict to that effect was returned. Heward was a native of Southampton, England, and was 80 years of age. -Otago Witness, 14/2/1912.
PURAKANUI DAYS (excerpt)
A figure well known to most visitors to Purakanui in the nineties was Old Joe, who was engaged in fishing. His wife also assisted to keep the home fires burning by keeping a few summer boarders. Joe was a sufficiently interesting type of fisherman to form a model for well-known Dunedin artists. Besides being an experienced fisherman, Joe had another qualification, particulars of which he once gave to me. Observing a lady eating, with great relish, some of the oysters which he had procured for her, Joe remarked: “It’s a funny thing, ain’t it! I can’t abide i-sters (oysters) meself, but you should see me a-openin’ of ’em. I were the smartest young feller in Yarmouth at openin’ i-sters, and I could allus get a job at any i-ster saloon. They liked me becus’ I didn’t like i-sters. There was no fear of me swallering up their profits.”
Frequently some holiday-maker at Purakanui dared to brave the billow and the breeze, and accompanied Joe on one of his fishing expeditions. He would toil and moil, and endure the discomfort which a landsman usually feels on such occasions, assisting Joe to make a good catch, but he was surprised and aggrieved on returning home to find that his partner for the day claimed all the fish caught, and insisted upon his paying the full market price for even the smallest. On one occasion, when he was fishing beyond the bar, Joe netted several trout. It was surmised that they reached the ocean from the Waitati Stream. Joe tried to sell them to local residents, but he asked too fancy a price, so he continued on his way to the railway station. None of the waiting passengers were sufficiently interested to buy, so he offered them to a gentleman on the platform of the incoming train. This gentleman seemed greatly taken up with the offer, and asked Joe how and where he had caught the trout, and what was his name and address. To all of these questions Joe gave frank and truthful replies. Then the stranger divulged the fact that he was the ranger. I met Joe on his way back, and he told me his troubles. “Wornt I a mug? But ’ow was I ter know he was the bloomin’ ranger? But p’raps he'll forget all about it.” But the ranger didn’t, and in due course Joe appeared at the court and was fined.
Early one morning a monstrous sunfish was stranded on the beach at Purakanui. Joe was the first person to see it, and, scenting profit, took immediate possession. He indicated his proprietorship by attaching one end of a clothes line to the fish and the other to a stake. He was convinced that the Otago Museum authorities would hear of the find, and would offer him a good price for it as a specimen. The expected offer did not eventuate, and very soon the sunfish began to emit odours appertaining to decay. People began to make complaints to Joe about his property. He replied, truthfully enough, that he had not brought the fish ashore, but the complainants assorted that if he claimed the fish as an asset he could not disown it as a liability. Much against his will Joe had to turn to and row his treasure trove out to sea. So was added another to the stock of hard luck yarns.
With the establishment of the old age pension scheme Joe became entitled to the usual allowance. Joe was not ungrateful, and whenever he visited the city to collect his pension he took the opportunity of drinking the health of the Government not once, but several times. One hot summer afternoon when they were returning from their periodical trip to town Joe and his wife were offered a lift across the inlet, which at that hour was an expanse of dry sand. Mrs Joe and the driver occupied the only seat in the trap. Joe was stowed away at the back. At the end of the journey Mrs Joe turned to speak to her husband. To her amazement he was not there. He had performed the vanishing trick. Mrs Joe had heard of a chicken being spirited away by a hawk, but Joe was no chicken. It would have required a great auk to have carried him off, and no bird bigger than an albatross had been seen in the district. Whatever was the cause of his mysterious disappearance she had no doubt that Joe would turn up sooner or later. Joe always did.
What had happened to Joe? Briefly this. The hot afternoon sun and the liberal refreshment to which he had treated himself in town had induced a drowsy feeling which very soon culminated in his falling asleep. His hold loosened, with, the result that he rolled out of the back of the cart on to the soft sand, where he continued to slumber unnoticed. Meanwhile, the tide was on the turn, and soon the wavelets began to creep nearer and nearer his recumbent figure, whispering as they came; “We’re coming, Joe! Look out, Joe! Get up, Joe!” By and by they touched him ever so gently, and Joe’s dreams took a different turn. He thought he was in the Antarctic encountering snow and ice and blizzards. The wavelets continued to advance, and Joe half awoke wondering why the temperature had gone down with a bump. He reached out for the bedclothes to pull them up. There were no bedclothes. He sat up in surprise and found that his bed was the wide world and his mattress watercovered sand.
“Where have you been, Joe?" his wife cried as he appeared in the doorway a little later. “You look wet.
(To be continued.) -Evening Star, 12/1/1929.
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