"O my island of dreams you are with me it seems
And I care not for fame or renown
Like the black sheep of old I'll return to the fold
Little town in the old County Down"
ANON.

Schoolboy, Shepherd and Seaman

Harry Joe did not fit the stereotypical profile of immigrants passing through the tumultuous and noisy reception centre of Ellis Island. He was older than most new arrivals at 37 years.  In fact he clipped-off some years when being interviewed stating his age as 32. This was probably to avoid suspicion or awkward questions, as he was a man who was always wary of authority. He will have realised the necessity of portraying oneself as just another ill-educated, physically fit young worker on his way to a life of industrious toil.  In reality Henry J had been an immigrant to New Zealand at age 14. He went, in place of his older brother, James, on a £15 ticket provided by his maternal uncle Nicholas Quinn. The substitution came about in circumstances peculiar to the age. It was the habit and custom at that time in Ireland to arrange an “Emigrant's Wake” before departure. This involved a get-together by friends and relations at ones home, culminating in tearful cries of farewell, as it was unlikely those present would ever see you again, at least in this world. That was a fine concept but to heighten the drama it was the practise for the prospective passenger to be laid out in a coffin before communal prayers. Henry’s brother at that point in the proceedings took to his heels and ran off.

It was then that instead of wasting the ticket that the bold 14-year old Harry Joe volunteered. It must have seemed a wonderful opportunity to Harry Joe who was only at home due to his dislike of life as a boarder in Belfast where his parents, who were of moderate means, had dispatched him to be educated by the Christian Brothers. The Brother’s philosophy and religious beliefs did not agree with Harry Joe in spite of his abilities as a prize winning pupil. So after a voyage of some months in a sailing ship from Greenore, a nearby port, he arrived in New Zealand.

On the Canterbury plains of the South Island, he found his new life was as a shepherd in the company of only some dogs and a horse placed in sole charge of one thousand acres and one thousand woolly backs. This was certainly not what Harry Joe had expected or desired.
 

As a young man, Harry Joe was certainly well-cared for in New Zealand.  Several of his mother's brothers had settled in the area around Waimate and had become reputable pioneers of the area.  When his Uncle Nicholas Quinn died in 1903 it must have been expected that Harry Joe would make his life in in New Zealand as Nicholas made Harry Joe generous bequests in his will.  These included shares in Canterbury Farmers Cooperative Association Limited and Timaru Milling Company and an acre of land in Makikihi. A painting of "The White Haired Lass" by Capt. James Doyle (Harry Joe's brother). Within a few years of losing his Uncle Nicholas, Harry Joe received the news that his father James Doyle had died back in Kilkeel. As a result, he decided to return home and try his hand as a fisherman.  Harry Joe worked hard trading around the coasts of the British Isles. but despite nine years of effort, he failed to make it “big time” in the sea-freight business. On the contrary, his brother - the one who had decided New Zealand was not for him - was now "Captain" James. A talented, prosperous and well-respected seaman.

So now the wheel of life had turned again and it was on that fine July morning that Harry Joe set out on a new phase of life as a mine employee. Many of Harry Joe's neighbors back in Mourne, supplemented their meager farm income,  especially in the winter, by cutting granite pieces from the sides of the mountains. Their miniature quarries can still be seen today. It is hard to realise the fortitude of someone who might labour for freezing cold days on end in the solitude of the mountains hewing out pieces of granite kerbstone. They were highly-skilled and could split the rock with simple hand-tools. It was not unknown for the day to end with the loss of the stone, and any income, when in the course of manually dragging it down the mountainside on a homemade sled it tumbled and broke before it was safely stacked.