This is the story of the founding of Mathewton by the Matthew Cook family.
The Beginning
Matthew Cook grew up in Scotland, related to the Waring, Mearns, and Stewart clans. He grew up in the Mearns, Kincardineshire, a maritime area where Matthew gained his love of the sea. He rose to the rank of Captain and built his own Barque named “Saorsa” which he used for trading with different parts of the world. Matthew loved the sea and thus gave his ship the Galic name for “freedom.”
Later he met Morag Aileen McDougal and they were married. They were blessed with three children: Matthew Junior, Mark, and Erin. They had a fine manor close to the coast so they could be together as often as they wanted.
Setting Sail from Scotland
Matthew and Morag Cook stood on the rocky shoreline of eastern Scotland, the wind tugging at his coat as if urging him forward. He had always loved his homeland — the rolling green hills, the crisp air, the proud people — but he felt the world calling him to something larger. Britain was changing, and Matthew wanted a place where Scots could build a life without being crowded by English politics or the constant tug of old arguments.
He and his wife had spent years planning this voyage. Already owning a beautiful Barque named Saorsa and having a good and a loyal crew, he felt comfortable sailing to their destination. His crew were invited to invite their families and prepare with his family for the long journey to New Zealand. It was a bold dream, but Matthew and Morag had never been afraid of boldness. They believed that courage was simply the decision to keep moving forward, even when the path was uncertain.
As the Saorsa pulled away from Newhaven in Edinburgh Harbor, Matthew and Morag stood at the bow with their children, young Matthew Jr., Mark, and Erin, watching Edinburgh Castle fade into the mist. “Remember this moment,” he told them. “Every great adventure begins with a goodbye.”
Around the Cape of Good Hope
The journey south was long but peaceful. The Cook family learned the rhythms of life at sea — the creaking of the wooden deck, the snap of the sails, the endless blue horizon. They rounded the Cape of Good Hope with surprising ease, the crew relieved to pass one of the most feared stretches of ocean without incident.
Matthew spent evenings teaching his sons how to read the stars. Mark loved the stories behind each constellation, while Matthew Jr. preferred the practical side — how sailors used the sky to guide their way. Both boys felt the thrill of adventure growing inside them.
The Indian Ocean welcomed them with warm winds and calm waters. For a time, it seemed the voyage would be smooth all the way to New Zealand.
But adventures rarely stay simple.
Trouble Near Australia
As they passed the northern edge of Australia, the weather began to shift. Clouds gathered like dark armies on the horizon, and the wind carried a sharpness that made the crew uneasy. Worse yet, strange ships began appearing — small, fast vessels with crews who watched Matthew’s brigantine a little too closely.
“They’re not traders,” the captain muttered one morning as a narrow ship cut across their path. “Not with those sails.”
Matthew agreed. The men aboard the other vessels didn’t wave or call out. They simply stared, their faces hard and unfriendly. Concerned, Matthew adjusted their course to avoid them, and for a while, it worked. Danger has a way of finding those who try too hard to avoid it.
The Pirate Chase
One afternoon, a massive ship appeared behind them — black sails, wide hull, and a flag that left no doubt about its intentions. Pirates.
The crew sprang into action. The Matthew ordered full sail, and the brigantine leapt forward across the waves. Matthew held his sons close as the pirate ship gained ground. Its cannons glinted in the sunlight, and its crew shouted across the water.
“We can’t outrun them forever,” Morag warned. “We need another plan.”
Matthew looked ahead. A storm — enormous, swirling, and violent — loomed in the distance. “If we enter the edge of that storm,” he said, “they might turn back.”
“They might,” Morag replied. “Or we might be torn apart.”
Matthew placed a hand on the Morag’s shoulder. “We choose the danger we can face. Not the danger that chooses us.” Morag nodded. “Into the storm!”
Through the Storm’s Edge
A watercolor of the barque sailing in clam waters after the storm. The barque plunged into the storm’s outer wall. Rain hammered the deck. Waves rose like mountains. The crew fought to keep the ship upright as lightning cracked across the sky.
Mark, Matthew Jr., and Erin held onto the mast, their eyes wide with fear and excitement. Matthew stayed beside them, steady as a stone. “Storms end,” he reminded them. “They always do.” They were not quite ready for something strange happening.
The wind softened. The waves lowered. The rain faded. The ship drifted forward into a thick, swirling fog — silent, heavy, and unnatural. The crew exchanged nervous glances. Storms did not simply stop like this. “Where are we?” the captain whispered. No one had an answer.
The Hidden Harbor
Slowly, the fog began to lift, revealing a sight none of them expected. They had entered a vast natural harbor, surrounded by cliffs and lush greenery. At the far end of the bay stood an old Spanish fort — tall stone walls, watchtowers, and a massive wooden gate. Ssomething was wrong. The fort looked abandoned. Completely abandoned.
The crew anchored the ship and approached cautiously. Carefully opening the wooden gate of the fort, they found dishes still set on tables, food petrified as if frozen in time. Tools lay scattered, untouched. A lantern hung from a hook, its wick burned halfway down — as if someone had left it only moments before.
Yet there was no sign of struggle. No sign of departure. No sign of life. It appeared that people had simply vanished.
The Village Beyond the Bay
Matthew led an exploration party across the bay to the opposite shore. There, they discovered a small Spanish village — simple homes, a blacksmith’s shop, a communal well. Everything was intact, tools still sharp, clothing still folded, baskets still filled with dried fruit.
Around the village stood a grove of mango trees, their branches heavy with ripe fruit. At the edges of the grove grew star fruit, bright yellow and shaped like little stars — a sight that delighted Matthew Jr., who had never seen such a thing.
The crew gathered fruit, grateful for fresh food after weeks at sea. Even as they ate, the mystery of the place weighed on them.
“Where did they go?” Mark asked. Looking toward the fort, then toward the sea. Matthew said “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “We’re going to find out.”
A Place to Rest and a New Question
The crew and their families settled into the abandoned fort for the night, grateful for shelter from the storm still raging beyond the harbor. Matthew stood on the ramparts, watching the fog swirl at the edges of the bay.
They had escaped the pirates and survived the storm. Viewing a hidden harbor untouched by time gave them hope. They had also stepped into a mystery far greater than anything they had expected. Matthew and Morag both felt a shiver — not with fear, but of anticipation.
“This place chose us,” he murmured. “Now we must discover why.”
And thus began the greatest adventure the Cook family would ever know.