THE MISSIONARY SETTLEMENT AT KERIKERI.
We had travelled all day through a country in which every object we saw
was of a character that reminded us forcibly of the savage community we
were with. Occasionally we met groups of naked men, trotting along under
immense loads, and screaming their barbarous songs of recognition;
sometimes we beheld an uncouthly carved figure, daubed over with red
ochre, and fixed in the ground, to give notice that one side of the road
was tabooed. An extraordinary contrast was now presented to our view, for
we came suddenly in front of a complete little English village. Wreaths
of white smoke were rising from the chimneys, of neat weather-boarded
houses. The glazed windows reflected the brilliant glow from the rays of
the setting sun, while herds of fat cattle were winding down the hills,
lowing as they leisurely bent their steps toward the farm-yard. It is
impossible for me to describe what I felt on contemplating a scene so
similar to those I had left behind me.
According to the custom of this country, we fired our muskets, to warn
the inhabitants of the settlement of our approach. We arranged our
dresses in the best order we could, and proceeded towards the village. As
the report of our guns had been heard, groups of nondescripts came
running out to meet us. I could scarcely tell to what order of beings
they belonged; but on their near approach, I found them to be the New
Zealand youths, who were settled with the missionaries. They were habited
in the most uncouth dresses imaginable. These pious men, certainly, have
no taste for the picturesque; they had obscured the finest human forms
under a seaman's huge clothing. Boys not more than fifteen wore jackets
reaching to their knees, and buttoned up to the throat with great black
horn buttons, a coarse checked shirt, the collar of which spread half-way
over their face, their luxuriant, beautiful hair was cut close off, and
each head was crammed into a close Scotch bonnet!
These half-converted, or, rather, half-_covered_, youths, after rubbing
noses, and chattering with our guides, conducted us to the dwellings of
their masters. As I had a letter of introduction from one of their own
body, I felt not the slightest doubt of a kind reception; so we proceeded
with confidence. We were ushered into a house, all cleanliness and
comfort, all order, silence, and unsociability. After presenting my
letter to a grave-looking personage, it had to undergo a private
inspection in an adjoining room, and the result was an invitation "to
stay and take a cup of tea!" All that an abundant farm and excellent
grocer in England could supply were soon before us. Each person of the
mission, as he appeared during our repast, was called aside, and I could
hear my own letter read and discussed by them. I could not help thinking
(within myself) whether this was a way to receive a countryman at the
Antipodes! No smile beamed upon their countenance; there were no
inquiries after news; in short, there was no touch of human sympathy,
such as we "of the world" feel at receiving an Englishman under our roof
in such a savage country as this!
The chubby children who peeped at us from all corners, and the very
hearty appearance of their parents, plainly evidenced that theirs was an
excellent and thriving trade. We had a cold invitation to stay all night;
but this the number of our party entirely precluded; so they lent us
their boat to convey us to the Bay of Islands, a distance of about
twenty-five miles.
As the night proved dark and stormy, and as our boat was crowded with
natives, our passage down the Kerikeri river became both disagreeable and
dangerous. The river being filled with rocks, some under, and others just
above the water, we were obliged to keep a good look-out. After
experiencing many alarms, we arrived safely at Kororareka beach about
midnight, where an Englishman of the name of Johnstone gave us a shelter
in his hut.