Uncle Trev and the Whistling Bull by Jack Lasenby Page B

One hundred men using timber jacks worked it down the rolling road into the creek. It took all the water from six dams to drive it down to the Mercury Bay River, and the huge log floated downstream with all those one hundred men standing on it, arms stretched out so only their fingers touched – that’ll tell you how long it was. There wasn’t a camera in New Zealand big enough to take its photograph.”
    â€œWhat’d they do?”
    â€œThe photographer took twenty snaps as it floated past, and glued them side by side. He said the camera was never good for anything again.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œHe’d strained the lens, trying to photograph that enormous kauri.
    â€œWe chained the log to Whitianga Rock down in the Bay. There was nobody in the mill with arms long enough to pitsaw it, and the breaking-down saws weren’t built that could handle it. Then one night with a big tide the log tugged on its chains till it shifted Whitianga Rock several feet to the north. You can still see the flat bit at the bottom where it was moved off its base.
    â€œPeople said what if the huge log towed Whitianga Rock out to sea? Besides, it displaced so much water, the tide rose several feet above its normal level, and water came right up to the pub door. Things were looking really serious. Then old Dugald Bryce had a brainwave. He rigged some kauri rickers along the top of the log as masts, sharpened the sniped end into a bow, and sailed it up to Auckland.
    â€œHe hollowed out the log at the foot of Queen Street. The timber out of the inside, he sold to the City Council, and they used it to build the old wooden harbour bridge to Devonport.”
    â€œI didn’t know they had a harbour bridge in Auckland,” I said to Uncle Trev.
    â€œA German submarine torpedoed it in the Great War, and it caught fire and sank. You can still see the blackened stumps of the piles under the Devonport wharf.”
    â€œWhat did Mr Bryce do with the hollowed-out log?”
    â€œTowed it around to Rangitoto Island, stood it on end, built a circular staircase inside, and sold it to the Marine Department for a lighthouse. That’s the one you can see from Takapuna Beach.
    â€œOf course,” said Uncle Trev, “it’s been painted so many times, people think it’s made out of concrete. But anyone with half an eye can tell it’s made out of a kauri tree.” He stopped and looked at me.
    â€œWhy?” I asked.
    â€œBecause,” said Uncle Trev, “when he put the light on top, old Dugald Bryce carved the lens by hand out of a big lump of kauri gum. Most lighthouses have a white light, but you’ll notice the one on Rangitoto looks just a bit yellow – the effect of the light coming through the kauri gum.”
    â€œI wonder if I’ll ever see it?”
    â€œYour mother tells me Dr Stirrup says you’ll be going back to school any day now. When you’re fit enough to travel, how would you like to go up to Auckland on the Rotorua Express, catch the ferry across to the North Shore, take the steam tram to Takapuna, and have a look at the only lighthouse in the world built out of a kauri tree?”
    â€œI’d like that!” I said. “How tall is the lighthouse?”
    â€œFunny you should ask that,” said Uncle Trev. “Nobody ever measured it, because there wasn’t a tape measure long enough. And just last week, in the Auckland Herald , there was a letter to the editor from the lighthouse keeper saying he’d tried to count all the steps to the top of the staircase. He got up to two thousand, went giddy and lost count. Yet a few months ago, he counted the steps and there were only fifteen hundred.He reckons the kauri lighthouse has taken root there on Rangitoto and started growing again.
    â€œJust to make matters worse, he said when he got to the top of the steps he dropped his box of matches. By the time he’d climbed all the way