By Roselyn Fauth
This statue commemorates Captain Henry Cain, who bought the landing service in 1870. Captain Cain to keep watch over city (17 Aug 1999). Aoraki Heritage Collection, accessed 10/07/2025, https://aorakiheritage.recollect.co.nz/nodes/view/414. Right Photo of Captain Cain by Roselyn Fauth. Captain Henry Cain (1816 -1886) is now immortalised in as a life-like bronze statue by Christchurch's Donald Paterson, sits outside Timaru's Information Centre. A plaque reads: "Henry Cain was born in 1816 and went to sea at the age of 13. After 30yrs of seafaring, he settled in Timaru in March 1857, and opened a general store. The town grew and before long he was operating the first landing service at the foot of Strathallen St. Captain Cain became a prominent businessman and significant public figure, serving as mayor from 1870-1873. He died in 1886, having been poisoned by his son-in-law. For many, Henry Cain represents the pioneering spirit that made Timaru." In 1857, he was asked by Le Cren to relocate to Timaru to open up a landing service, which he did. This was mainly to service the Rhodes’ huge sheep station, the ‘Levels’, South Canterbury’s first farm.
I’ve been doing a free online course from Harvard called Tangible Things, and it has been fascinating. It teaches you to really look at the everyday things we pass by without much thought, and then step back to ask deeper questions. Who made this? Why is it here? What stories are being remembered... and what is being forgotten?
So today I want to look again at something many of us walk past often here in Timaru... the statue of Captain Henry Cain outside the Timaru Landing Services Building. I have always admired it, but I see it differently now.
This bronze sculpture by Christchurch artist Donald Paterson was installed as part of the 1999 city centre upgrade. It shows Henry Cain, sitting in life-size form, confident and commanding. According to the plaque, Cain was born in 1816, went to sea at thirteen, and after 30 years as a mariner, settled in Timaru in 1857. He opened a store, developed the landing service at Strathallan Street, and served as mayor from 1870 to 1873. He died in 1886, poisoned by his son-in-law. The plaque ends with the idea that Cain represents the pioneering spirit that made Timaru.
But the course has made me ask, what else does this statue represent, and what does it leave out?
But what does the statue leave out?
Cain’s role in Timaru’s founding is significant. He was invited by Henry Le Cren to help establish a landing service to support the Rhodes’ sheep station at The Levels. He brought supplies on the Royal Bride, ran the store at the foot of Strathallan Street, and helped shape the commercial growth of the town. He would have had friendships with men like pastralist George Rhodes who built a simple cottage on George Street in 1851, Belfield Woollcombe, the government agent and harbour master, Henry Le Cren his employer, and Samuel Williams, a former whaler who returned to Timaru to work for the Rhodes and as a publican. I can imagine them gathering to discuss the town’s future, sharing news, and helping build something new in Timaru.
But what about the women?
We know Cain had a wife, Jane Cain, who was part of the early Timaru story. Passengers arriving in 1869 on the Strathallan, the first immigrant ship from the UK to sail direct to Timaru, mention visiting her. She was here. She was active in community life. We even have a photo of her turning the first sod of earth for the Timaru to Christchurch railway in 1871. And yet her name is nowhere on the statue or the plaque. This is something the Tangible Things course invites us to reflect on, who gets remembered, and who does not? Maybe there was a good reason, maybe they were focused on a key figure who used the site? Next time I am at the monument, I will need to see if I can spy a wedding ring or a symbol to her.
Jane Cain lived in one of the first five European houses built in Timaru. Her stepdaughter, Kate, married Thomas Hall... the man who would later poison both her and Captain Cain. The whole town was shocked. Hall insured Kate heavily and slipped her arsenic until the family doctor uncovered the plot. Kate survived. Cain did not. When his body was exhumed, it showed traces of the same poison. Hall was sentenced to death, but the sentence was overturned. He lived out his days in prison.
That story, full of grief and betrayal, is not on the statue either. There is no sense of the sadness, feelings of betrayal, or courage of Jane Cain or the resilience of Kate. The focus stays firmly on one man, one version of civic success.
The Tangible Things course has taught me to look beyond what is obvious and to ask what stories can be found in the margins. I now see this statue as an invitation to think more deeply. To wonder about the lives behind the names, and the lives without names at all.
I think about the other early women of Timaru. Mrs Anne Williams, who ran a public house with two children and her husband. Mrs Frances Woollcombe, raising five daughters near Waimataitai Lagoon. Mrs Elizabeth Rhodes, who rode on horseback through the South Canterbury hills as a young bride in 1853 to settle at the Levels Estate. Not to mention their companions, house help and governesses, and all the women who were soon to arrive to make Timaru area their home, to work, give and raise their families. These women birthed, baked, nursed, traded, farmed, hosted, volunteered, and held the community together. Their husbands made the newspapers, plaques and monuments. I think the women made the town.
So when I look at Captain Cain now, I see more than a founder. I see the space around him, and I wonder who else we might honour. What if we added a second statue nearby? Or a plaque that told Jane’s, Kate’s, Annes, Elizabeth's, Frances' and their friends and staff's stories? What if public memory included everyone who built this place? We can make space for the idea that the current monument might not tell the full story. And with heritage signage and murals nearby, we can start to broaden the information and ideas we share and invoke.
I would love to learn how this monument is seen through a Māori lens, and welcome others to share stories or perspectives I may not yet know. This land has a long history that did not begin with Cain, or the settlers, or the ships. The statue sits on Kāi Tahu whenua, and any story of this place must reckon with that fact. How was the arrival of Cain and others experienced by Māori? What was lost, displaced, or transformed? How do mana whenua feel about how their histories are represented or erased in these spaces? These are hard but necessary questions that we must keep asking.
The Harvard course has sparked in me a deeper curiosity, a lot more side quests, and from starting with Ann Williams on a simple whaling history hunt, is not a deeper search into our history and find what was left out, and a desire to tell fuller, richer stories. I think this can make our past more relatable, help us see where where have come from, enable us to reflect on the past with our own lens, and be in a better position to know where we are going and to make better choices.
Our history deserves that. And so do we.
Let’s keep hunting.
Captain Cain Mayor, Mrs Jane Cain holding spade, turning of the first sod for the Railway from Timaru to Christchurch 4 October 1871. The Mayoress Mrs Cain with the assistance of Mr Babington Assistant Engineer. The crowd around her including detachments from the local volunteer rifle and artillery units, members of the Borough Council, Timaru and Gladstone Board of Works, Roads Board, and others. - Section of a photo, from the South Canterbury Museum 201904937. Captain Henry Cain arrived in Timaru in 1857 and was soon joined by his wife and stepdaughter. His wife had been previously married. She lived in one of the first five European houses in Timaru, helping to build domestic and community life in an isolated and rugged settlement. His stepdaughter was Kate, who married Thomas Hall—the man later convicted for poisoning both her and Captain Cain. Diaries from immigrants who arrived on the Strathallan in 1869 reference a Mrs Cain, indicating her active presence and visibility in the community by that time. Her name is missing from the statue, the plaque, and most public stories about Captain Cain, which reflects a wider pattern the Harvard Tangible Things course urges us to question: whose names and contributions are remembered, and whose are overlooked?
Captain Henry Cain - Burnett Collection - South Canterbury Museum 2015154058
What the Captain Cain Statue Teaches Us About Memory
After writing my last blog post about the Captain Cain statue, I kept thinking about the prompts from the Tangible Things course I’ve been doing through Harvard. The course does not just teach you to look. It teaches you to look again, to question what you see, and to think about what is left out. That statue of Captain Cain has always been there outside the Information Centre in Timaru, but now I look at it differently.
The Story the Statue Tells
The statue was installed not when Cain died, or when he helped shape early Timaru, but more than a hundred years later as part of a city centre revitalisation in 1999. It is cast in bronze by Christchurch artist Donald Paterson and meant to look very life-like, a tribute to a founder, a mayor, a businessman. It tells a story of progress and pride. But it is just one version of that story.
Who Gets Remembered and Who Does Not
The plaque talks about Cain’s seafaring life, his general store, the landing service, and his time as mayor. It mentions his shocking death, poisoned by his son-in-law Thomas Hall. But there is no mention of his wife. No name. No history. And yet we know she was here. In 1869, passengers from the Strathallan, the first direct immigrant ship from the United Kingdom to Timaru, wrote about visiting her. A rare glimpse of her presence in the early settlement. What was life like for her in one of the first five houses in Timaru? Did she help run the store? Host travellers? Was she friends with Samuel Williams’ wife?
Revisiting the Landscape of Memory
Cain’s friends, men like Samuel “Yankee Sam” Williams, a former whaler turned hotel keeper, and Belfield Woollcombe, government agent and harbour master, are often mentioned in early town records. Together, they helped shape the port and the town. But again, what about the women? The wives who lived in basic cottages, who bore children, nursed neighbours, managed gardens and households. Where are they in our story? These early settlers were building lives on a raw coastline, and while the men’s names made it onto maps and statues, women’s stories are harder to find. But they are there, in letters, diaries, and glimpses from ship records.
A Different Way to Look
The Tangible Things course asks us to consider objects not just for what they show, but for what they hide. It reminds us to think about the object’s creator, who put it there, who is meant to see it, and how that meaning might shift over time. It has made me ask, if we were designing the Captain Cain statue today, what might we do differently? Would we include his wife? Mention the Strathallan settlers? Add a second figure to represent the women of early Timaru? Could we include a small sign or plaque about Kate Cain, the stepdaughter who survived poisoning and whose story is so rarely told?
Why It Matters
History is not just what happened. It is what we choose to remember. Statues like this are part of how we shape public memory, but they are not neutral. They are stories frozen in bronze. By questioning what they say and what they leave out, we make space for deeper conversations. As someone who has always been drawn to local stories, especially those of women, this course has helped me sharpen that instinct. Looking at Cain’s statue now, I do not just see a pioneer. I see a prompt, a reason to dig deeper, to ask better questions, and to wonder what else we might remember if we looked again.
I am committed to help honour the past by challenging how we see it. Through careful research, personal storytelling, and a focus on marginalised voices like Jane Cain and the women who helped shape Timaru, I aim to build a fuller, more inclusive history. My work seeks to uncover what traditional narratives have overlooked and to share those stories widely so our community memory reflects not just power but presence, resilience, and everyday life. This is public storytelling that deepens understanding and invites us all to look again.
Tangible Prompts for Rethinking the Past
Here are six ways the course encourages us to think about the physical objects around us, and what they can teach us about history, memory, and meaning.
Look Closely
Notice textures, materials, design choices, inscriptions. Let physical details spark curiosity about who made the object, how it was used, and what mattered to the people who created or placed it.
Connect Broadly
Link the object to larger forces. Cain’s statue connects not just to one man’s biography but to immigration, colonial expansion, town building, and gendered memory. What systems, movements, or relationships does your object reveal?
Question Deeply
Ask what the object remembers, and what it forgets. Whose stories are amplified? Whose are silenced? Who chose this version of history to be preserved?
Rethink Memory
Recognise that memory is curated. Public objects reflect decisions about what a community wants to honour. Statues show values, not facts. What is being said here? What is being smoothed over?
Recover What Was Left Out
Use the object as a clue to find people left out of official history: women, Māori, labourers, children, disabled people, dissenters. Bring their lives back into view.
Reinterpret the Past
Tell new stories from old things. The goal is not to replace one story with another, but to make the story richer, more layered, and more honest. Public memory should belong to all of us.
Further Reflection: Through a Māori Lens
This monument could be seen in a very different way through a Māori lens. Captain Cain’s arrival, and the subsequent town building that the statue celebrates, was part of a broader settler-colonial project that displaced Ngāi Tahu from lands, disrupted relationships to place, and imposed new systems of power. While the statue represents pride and permanence for some, it may symbolise loss and erasure for others. How does this site fit into the long history of Arowhenua and South Canterbury Māori communities? Are their stories also made visible nearby? What would it mean to look at this object not just through European settler eyes, but through the eyes of tangata whenua?
The statue reminds us of Captain Cain’s contributions, but also invites questions about whose efforts we commemorate.
The omissions of Jane Cain and others reflect deeper patterns of gendered forgetting in public storytelling.
The friendships and networks of early Timaru settlers show us that civic growth was not a solo effort, but a collective one — and we should remember all involved.
The tragic poisoning of Cain and his stepdaughter Kate reveals the personal stories behind the public figure — and the statue’s silence on those events reminds us of the limits of monuments.
The Tangible Things course urges us to see objects not as static, but as dynamic conversation starters. They reveal values, raise questions, and can be reinterpreted in meaningful ways.
Let’s keep hunting for history. Let’s look again. And let’s build stories that make room for all of us.
A framed portrait of H Cain, Timaru Borough Council mayor from 1870 to 1873. South Canterbury Museum 2016/011.024
Jane Cain (née likely Jane Ellis or Jane Espie) died on 26 July 1878, aged 59. This is confirmed by her headstone inscription in the Timaru Cemetery, which reads: "SACRED, To the Memory of JANE, The beloved Wife of Captⁿ HENRY CAIN, Who Died July 26ᵗʰ 1878, Aged 59 Years."
This is not just a monument... it can also be a tangible object... that holds stories... some remembered, some forgotten.
I’ve been doing a free online course from Harvard called Tangible Things, and it has been fascinating. It teaches you to really look at the everyday things we pass by without much thought, and then step back to ask deeper questions. Who made this? Why is it here? What stories are being remembered... and what is being forgotten?
So today I want to look again at something many of us walk past often here in Timaru... the statue of Captain Henry Cain outside the Timaru Landing Services Building. I have always admired it, but I see it differently now.
This bronze sculpture by Christchurch artist Donald Paterson was installed as part of the 1999 city centre upgrade. It shows Henry Cain, sitting in life-size form, confident and commanding. According to the plaque, Cain was born in 1816, went to sea at thirteen, and after 30 years as a mariner, settled in Timaru in 1857. He opened a store, developed the landing service at Strathallan Street, and served as mayor from 1870 to 1873. He died in 1886, poisoned by his son-in-law. The plaque ends with the idea that Cain represents the pioneering spirit that made Timaru.
But the course has made me ask, what else does this statue represent, and what does it leave out?
Captain Henry Cain: Key Facts
1. Born in 1816
Henry Cain was born in England. Like many of his era, he went to sea at a young age.
2. Went to sea at 13
He began his maritime career early and spent roughly 30 years as a seafarer. His long shipping career included voyages across the Pacific, including to Australia and the Pacific Islands.
3. Arrived in Timaru in 1857
Cain settled in Timaru in March 1857, bringing goods aboard the Royal Bride to supply Henry Le Cren’s trading post. He is often referred to as one of Timaru’s early European settlers.
4. Opened a store and landing service
Cain ran a general store and developed the first landing service at the foot of Strathallan Street, a critical part of early shipping and freight in Timaru before a proper port was developed.
5. Was Timaru’s Mayor from 1870 to 1873
He served as Mayor during a formative period in Timaru’s development, contributing to civic growth and local leadership.
6. Married Jane Cain
His wife, Jane Cain, was an important figure in early settler society in her own right. She is recorded in diaries of new immigrants as hosting and helping new arrivals, and she ceremonially turned the first sod for the Timaru to Christchurch railway in 1871.
7. Had a stepdaughter, Kate
Jane’s daughter from a previous marriage, Kate, became part of the family and married a man named Thomas Hall.
8. Died in 1886 under suspicious circumstances
Cain’s death was first thought to be natural but was later linked to poisoning by his son-in-law, Thomas Hall, who had also attempted to murder his wife, Kate.
9. Hall was convicted of attempted murder
Thomas Hall was sentenced to life imprisonment for attempting to kill Kate and was also convicted of Cain’s murder. That conviction was later overturned on a technicality, but he remained imprisoned.
10. Immortalised in bronze in 1999
A life-sized bronze statue of Captain Cain by sculptor Donald Paterson was installed outside the Timaru Landing Services Building in 1999. It presents him seated, dignified, and is meant to honour his pioneering role in the town’s development.