During the latter part of the century which had elapsed between the time of Cook's proclamation to the world and the day when the Melbourne Cabinet decided that Britain must assume in earnest her responsibilities in the South Pacific there had not only been no systematic occupation of New Zealand by Britain, but rather a systematic renunciation of the nation's intention in that direction. The Duke of Wellington had petulantly declared that England had colonies enough, and Minister after Minister who had presided over the Colonial Office had in deeds, if not in words, endorsed this policy of anti-Imperialism. There were at this time none amongst the British statesmen blessed with that broader grasp, that wider vision of an Empire "extending over every sea, swaying many diverse races, and combining many diverse forms of religion," which afterwards animated the colonial policy of Lord John Russell.[1] The courage and capacity which that planter of Imperial outposts declared were necessary to build such an Empire--to effect such a wholesome blending of peoples--were wanting, and there was even an imminent danger that in this negatory attitude towards colonising other Powers would come to regard Britain not as an equal, nor with the fear that an equal can inspire, but as a timorous weakling, a nation destitute of enterprise, the product of a waning courage and of a pusillanimous hand. Thus it came about that when in 1839 the Ministry of Lord Melbourne found themselves coerced by circumstances into recognising the need for systematic colonisation, they discovered themselves destitute of what most people believed they possessed--a title to sovereignty in New Zealand "by right of discovery." The spirit of the British nation had not, however, been as idle as the British statesman, and inherent enterprise, combined with an inherent love of adventure, had sown and matured the seed which continuous Ministries had persistently declined to nourish. The elements which had contributed to the irregular settlement of New Zealand were faithfully recorded in Lord Palmerston's letter to Captain Hobson, and a more unpropitious beginning for any colony could scarcely be imagined. The number of British subjects who, up to 1839, had resorted to New Zealand for the purposes of legitimate and respectable trade were comparatively few, but it is estimated that even earlier than this there were over five hundred escaped convicts living along the sea coast in and around the Bay of Islands, the point at which settlement had, up to that time, chiefly congregated. Of those directly and indirectly concerned in the whaling industry there must have been a considerable number, for it is officially recorded that in the year 1836 no less than one hundred and fifty-one vessels had visited the Bay of Islands alone, and the proportion was even larger in the first half of the succeeding year.