There was a girl of high rank named Hine-Moa. She was of
rare beauty, and was so prized by her family that they would
not betroth her to anyone. Such fame attended her beauty and
rank that many of the men wanted her; among them a chief
named Tutanekai and his elder brothers.
Tutanekai had built an elevated balcony where, with his
friend Tiki, he used to play the horn and the pipe at night.
On calm nights the music was wafted to the village and
reached the ears of the beautiful Hine-Moa, whose heart was
gladdened by it, and who said to herself, "Ah, that is the
music of Tutanekai which I hear."
She and Tutanekai had met each other on those occasions when
all the people of Eotorua come together. In those great
assemblies they had often glanced each at the other, to the
heart of each of them the other appeared pleasing, and
worthy of love, so that in the breast of each there grew up
a secret passion for the other. Nevertheless, Tutanekai
could not tell whether he might venture to approach Hine-Moa
to take her hand, to see would she press his in return,
because, said he, "Perhaps I may be by no means agreeable to
her;" on the other hand, Hine-Moa's heart said to her, "If
you send one of your female friends to tell him of your
love, perchance he will not be pleased with you."
However, after they had thus met for many, many days, and
had long fondly glanced at each other, Tutanekai sent a
messenger to Hine-Moa, to tell of his love; and when
Hine-Moa had seen the messenger, she said, "Eh-hu! have we
then each loved alike?"
Some time after this, a dispute arose among the brothers as
to which of them the girl loved. Each one claimed that he
had pressed the hand of Hine-Moa and that she had pressed
his in return. But the elder brothers sneered at Tutanekai's
claims (for he was an illegitimate son), saying, "Do you
think she would take any notice of such a lowborn fellow as
you?" But in reality Tutanekai had already arranged for an
elopement with the girl, and when she asked, "What shall be
the sign by which I shall know that I should then run to
you?" he said to her, "A trumpet will be heard sounding
every night, it will be I who sound it, beloved--paddle then
your canoe to that place."
Now always about the middle of the night Tutanekai and his
friend went up into their balcony and played. Hine-Moa heard
them and vastly desired to paddle over in her canoe; but her
friends suspecting something, had all the canoes on the
shore of the lake. At last, one evening, she again heard the
horn of Tutanekai, and the young and beautiful chieftainess
felt as if an earthquake shook her to make her go to the
beloved of her heart. At last she thought, perhaps I might
be able to swim across. So she took six large, dry, empty
gourds as floats, lest she should sink in the water, threw
oft her clothes, and plunged into the water. It was dark,
and her only guide was the sound of her lover's music.
Whenever her limbs became tired she rested, the gourds
keeping her afloat. At last she reached the island on which
her lover dwelt. Near the shore there was a hot spring, into
which she plunged, partly to warm her trembling body, and
partly also, perhaps, from modesty, at the thoughts of
meeting Tutanekai.
Whilst the maiden was thus warming herself in the hot
spring, Tutanekai happened to feel thirsty and sent his
servant to fetch him a calabash of water. The servant came
to dip it from the lake near where the girl was hiding. She
called out to him in a gruff voice, like that of a man,
asking him for some to drink, and he gave her the calabash,
which she purposely threw down and broke. The servant went
back for another calabash and again she broke it in the same
way. The servant returned and told his master that a man in
the hot spring had broken all his calabashes. "How did the
rascal dare to break my calabashes?" exclaimed the young
man. "Why, I shall die of rage."
He threw on some clothes, seized his club, and hurried to
the hot spring, calling out "Where's that fellow who broke
my calabashes?" And Hine-Moa knew the voice, and the sound
of it was that of the beloved of her heart; and she hid
herself under the overhanging rocks of the hot spring; but
her hiding was hardly a real hiding, but rather a bashful
concealing of herself from Tutanekai, that he might not find
her at once, but only after trouble and careful searching
for her; so he went feeling about along the banks of the hot
spring, searching everywhere, whilst she lay coyly hid under
the ledges of the rock, peeping out, wondering when she
would be found. At last he caught hold of a hand, and cried
out "Hollo, who's this?" And Hine-Moa answered, "It's I,
Tutanekai;" And he said, "But who are you?--who's I?" Then
she spoke louder and said., "It's I, 'tis Hine-Moa." And he
said "Ho! ho! ho! can such in very truth be the case? Let us
two then go to the house." And she answered, "Yes," and she
rose up in the water as beautiful as the wild white hawk,
and stepped upon the edge of the bath as the shy white
crane; and he threw garments over her and took her, and they
proceeded to his house, and reposed there; and thenceforth,
according to the ancient laws of the Maori, they were man
and wife.