THREATENED WAR.
We now heard that Tetoro (one of the most powerful chiefs of this part of
the island) had taken offence, and had sent a defiance to King George,
saying he intended coming to seek revenge, accompanied by a strong body
of warriors; and the "herald" who brought this proclamation informed us
that the English settlers were to be attacked and plundered also.
We had every reason to fear this might prove a more calamitous affair
than any we had yet experienced; as George immediately collected all his
family and dependents, and took his departure for the Kawakawa river (the
residence of De Kookie, the chief who had come to his assistance against
Hongi's attack), leaving behind only a few slaves. Thus a second time
were we left to our own resources on Kororarika Beach. George and his
followers were too much scattered: some were trading with the ships,
others were distributed in various districts, attending to their
agricultural pursuits. Thus separated, each might become an easy prey to
any of the powerful chiefs; but, were they united, they would be too
strong for any of the tribes: unfortunately the hope of gain made them
risk so great a danger. At this period, too, there was not a single
vessel in the bay to protect us. The known partiality of all the tribes
for Europeans was the only consolation we had; and we endeavoured to
cheer each other with this hope, under what in reality might be
considered very appalling circumstances.
After enduring this state of suspense and anxiety for several days, and
no enemy appearing, we determined to pay a visit to the camp of the
combined army of our friends, which would, at the same time, gratify our
own curiosity, and give them a degree of satisfaction; as it would prove
to them that we were not afraid of venturing amongst them, even in times
of danger. We accordingly prepared the whaleboats to proceed up the
Kawakawa river; and, as I had never been there before, the present
afforded an excellent opportunity for exploring that picturesque spot.
At the top of the Bay of Islands, two rivers disembogue, the Wye Catte
and the Kawakawa: they are both small but beautiful streams. It was early
in the morning when we started: the dewy mist rose from the unruffled
bosom of the river like the gradual lifting up of a curtain, and, at
length, displayed its lofty sides, covered with immense trees, the
verdure extending to the very edge of the water. All was quiet,
beautiful, and serene; the only sounds which broke the calm were the wild
notes of the tui (or New Zealand blackbird), the splashing of our own
oars, or the occasional flight of a wild duck (or shag), disturbed by our
approach.
We rowed our boat many miles without seeing the slightest vestige of any
human inhabitants or civilisation: all appeared wild and magnificent as
if just fresh from the hands of nature; and it failed not to lead the
mind up to the contemplation of the Creator. It seemed utterly impossible
to reconcile the idea that such lonely, romantic, and sequestered scenes
could conceal hordes of savage cannibals, or that the tranquility of this
very place would soon be exchanged for the noise and tumult of savage
warfare. We soon reached the village where the coalesced chiefs had taken
up their station: they had fortified their position, and were waiting the
approach of the enemy. No sooner, however, was our arrival known, than
all came running down tumultuously to give us welcome: all business was
laid aside to greet our landing, and we were conducted with great
ceremony into the centre of the camp.