A Wrestling Match.--Beef against Melons.--The Victor gains a
Loss.--"Our Chief."--His Speech.--His _status_ in the
Tribe.--Death of "Melons."--Rumours of Peace and War.--Getting
the Pa in Fighting Order.--My Friend the "Relation Eater."--
Expectation and Preparation.--Arrival of doubtful Friends.--Sham
Fight.--The "Taki."--The War Dance.--Another Example of Maori
Hospitality.--Crocodile's Tears.--Loose Notions about Heads.--
Tears of Blood.--Brotherly Love.--Capital Felony.--Peace.
Something between a cheer, a scream, and a roar, greets our arrival on
the sand. An English voice salutes me with "Well, you served that
fellow out." One half of my coat hangs from my right elbow, the other
from my left; a small shred of the collar is still around my neck. My
hat, alas! my hat is gone. I am surrounded by a dense mob of natives,
laughing, shouting, and gesticulating, in the most grotesque manner.
Three Englishmen are also in the crowd; they seem greatly amused at
something, and offer repeated welcomes.
At this moment, up comes my salt-water acquaintance, elbowing his way
through the crowd; there is a strange serio-comic expression of anger
in his face; he stoops, makes horrid grimaces, quivering at the same
time his left hand and arm about in a most extraordinary manner, and
striking the thick part of his left arm with the palm of the right
hand. "_Hu!_" says he, "_hu! hu!_" "What _can_ he mean?" said I. "He is
challenging you to wrestle," cried one of the Englishmen; "he wants
_utu_." "What is _utu_" said I. "Payment." "I won't pay him." "Oh,
that's not it, he wants to take it out of you wrestling." "Oh, I see;
here's at him; pull off my coat and boots: I'll wrestle him. 'His foot
is in his own country, and his name is'--what?" "Sir, his name in
English means 'An eater of melons:' he is a good wrestler; you must
mind." "_Water_-melons, I suppose! Beef against melons for ever,
hurrah! Here's at him."
Here the natives began to run between us to separate us, but seeing
that I was in the humour to "have it out," and that neither self nor
friend were actually out of temper--and, no doubt, expecting to see the
pakeha floored--they stood to one side and made a ring. A wrestler soon
recognizes another, and my friend soon gave me some hints that showed
me I had some work before me. I was a youngster in those days, all bone
and sinew, full of animal spirits, and as tough as leather. A couple of
desperate main strength efforts soon convinced us both that science or
endurance must decide the contest. My antagonist was a strapping fellow
of about five-and-twenty, tremendously strong, and much heavier than
me. I, however, in those days actually could not be fatigued: I did not
know the sensation, and I could run from morning till night. I
therefore trusted to wearing him out, and avoiding his _ta_ and _wiri_.
All this time the mob were shouting encouragement to one or other of
us. Such a row never was seen. I soon perceived I had a "party." "Well
done, pakeha!" "Now for it, Melons!" "At him again!" "Take care the
pakeha is a _taniwha_! the pakeha is a _tino tangata_!" "Hooray!" (from
the British element). "The pakeha is down!" "No, he isn't!" (from
English side). Here I saw my friend's knees beginning to tremble. I
made a great effort, administered my favourite remedy, and there lay
the "Eater of Melons" prone upon the sand.
I stood a victor; and, like many other conquerors, a very great loser.
There I stood, _minus_ hat, coat, and pistols; wet and mauled, and
transformed very considerably for the worse since I left the ship. When
my antagonist fell, the natives gave a great shout of triumph, and
congratulated me in their own way with the greatest good will. I could
see I had got their good opinion, though I scarcely could understand
how. After sitting on the sand some time, my friend arose, and with a
very graceful movement, and a smile of good-nature on his dusky
countenance, he held out his hand and said in English, "How do you do?"
I was much pleased at this; the natives had given me fair play, and my
antagonist, though defeated both by sea and land, offered me his hand,
and welcomed me to the shore with his whole stock of English--"How do
you do?"
But the row is not half over yet. Here comes the chief in the ship's
boat. The other is miles off with its one man crew still pulling no one
knows, or at all cares, where. Some one has been off in a canoe and
told the chief that "Melons" and the "New Pakeha" were fighting like
mad on the beach. Here he comes, flourishing his _mere ponamu_. He is a
tall, stout fellow, in the prime of life, black with tatooing, and
splendidly dressed, according to the splendour of those days. He has on
a very good blue jacket, no shirt or waistcoat, a pair of duck
trousers, and a red sash round his waist; no hat or shoes, these being
as yet things beyond a chief's ambition. The jacket was the only one in
the tribe; and amongst the surrounding company I saw only one other
pair of trousers, which had a large hole at each knee; but this was not
considered to detract at all from its value.
The chief jumps ashore; he begins his oration, or rather to "blow up,"
all and sundry, the tribe in general, and poor "Melons" in particular.
He is really vexed, and wishes to appear to me more vexed than he
really is. He runs gesticulating and flourishing his _mere_ about ten
steps in one direction, in the course of which ten steps he delivers a
sentence; he then turns and runs back the same distance, giving vent to
his wrath in another sentence, and so back and forward, forward and
back, till he has exhausted the subject, and tired his legs. The
Englishmen were beside me, and gave a running translation of what he
said.
"Pretty work this," he began, "_good_ work; killing my pakeha: look at
him! (here a flourish in my direction with the _mere_.) I won't stand
this; not at all! not at all! not at all! (the last sentence took three
jumps, a step, and a turn-round, to keep correct time.) Who killed the
pakeha? It was Melons. You are a nice man, are you not? (this with a
sneer.) Killing my pakeha! (in a voice like thunder, and rushing
savagely, _mere_ in hand, at poor Melons, but turning exactly at the
end of the ten steps and coming back again.) It will be heard of all
over the country; we shall be called the 'pakeha killers;' I shall be
sick with shame; the pakeha will run away, and take all his _taonga_
along with him: what if you had killed him dead, or broken his bones?
his relations would be coming across the sea for _utu_. (Great
sensation, and I try to look as though I would say 'of course they
would.') What did I build this pa close to the sea for?--was it not to
trade with the pakehas?--and here you are killing the second that has
come to stop with me! (Here poor Melons burst out crying like an
infant.) Where is the hat?--where the _koti roa_?--where the
shoes?--(Boots were shoes in those days.) The pakeha is robbed! he is
murdered! (Here a howl from Melons, and I go over and sit down by him,
clap him on the bare back, and shake his hand.) Look at that,--the
pakeha does not bear malice; I would kill you if he asked me: you are a
bad people, killers of pakehas; be off with you, the whole of you,
away!"
This command was instantly obeyed by all the women, boys, and slaves.
Melons also, being in disgrace, disappeared; but I observed that "the
whole of you" did not seem to be understood as including the stout,
able-bodied, tattooed part of the population, the strength of the
tribe--the warriors, in fact, many of whom counted themselves to be
very much about as good as the chief. They were his nearest relations,
without whose support he could do nothing, and were entirely beyond his
control.
I found afterwards that it was only during actual war that this chief
was perfectly absolute, which arose from the confidence the tribe had
in him, both as a general and a fighting man, and the obvious necessity
that in war implicit obedience be given to one head. I have, however,
observed in other tribes, that in war they would elect a chief for the
occasion, a war chief, and have been surprised to see the obedience
they gave him, even when his conduct was very open to criticism. I say
with surprise, for the natives are so self-possessed, opinionated, and
republican, that the chiefs have at ordinary times but little control
over them; except in very rare cases, where the chief happens to
possess a singular vigour of character, or some other unusual
advantage, to enable him to keep them under.
I will mention here that my first antagonist, "The Eater of Melons,"
became a great friend of mine. He was my right-hand man and manager
when I set up house on my own account, and did me many friendly
services in the course of my acquaintance with him. He came to an
unfortunate end some years later. The tribe were getting ready for a
war expedition; poor Melons was filling cartridges from a fifty pound
barrel of gunpowder, pouring the gunpowder into the cartridges with his
hand, and smoking his pipe at the time, as I have seen the natives
doing fifty times since: a spark fell into the cask, and it is scarcely
necessary to say that my poor friend was roasted alive in a second. I
have known three other accidents of the same kind, from smoking whilst
filling cartridges. In one of these accidents three lives were lost,
and many injured; and I really do believe that the certainty of death
will not prevent some of the natives from smoking for more than a given
time. I have often seen infants refuse the mother's breast, and cry for
the pipe till it was given to them; and dying natives often ask for a
pipe, and die smoking. I can clearly perceive that the young men of the
present day are neither so tall, or stout, or strong, as men of the
same age were when I first came to the country; and I believe that this
smoking, from their infancy, is one of the chief causes of this
decrease in strength and stature.
I am landed at last, certainly; but I am tattered and wet, and in a
most deplorable plight: so, to make my story short--for I see, if I am
too particular, I shall never come to the end of it--I returned to the
ship, put myself to rights, and came on shore next day with all my
_taonga_, to the great delight of the chief and tribe. My hospitable
entertainer, Mr. ----, found room for my possessions in his store, and
a room for myself in his house; and so now that I am fairly housed we
shall see what will come of it.
I have now all New Zealand before me to caper about in; so I shall do
as I like, and please myself. I shall keep to neither rule, rhyme, nor
reason, but just write what comes uppermost to my recollection of the
good old days. Many matters which seemed odd enough to me at first,
have long appeared such mere matters of course, that I am likely to
pass them over without notice. I shall, however, give some of the more
striking features of those delectable days, now, alas! passed and gone.
Some short time after this, news came that a grand war expedition,
which had been absent nearly two years at the South, had returned. This
party were about a thousand strong, being composed of two parties, of
about five hundred men each, from two different tribes, who had joined
their force for the purpose of the expedition. The tribe with which Mr.
---- and myself were staying, had not sent any men on this war party;
but, I suppose to keep their hands in, had attacked one of the two
tribes who had, and who were, consequently, much weakened by the
absence of so many of their best men. It, however, turned out that
after a battle--the ferocity of which has seldom been equalled in any
country but this--our friends were defeated with a dreadful loss,
having inflicted almost as great on the enemy. Peace, however, had
afterwards been formally made; but, nevertheless, the news of the
return of this expedition was not heard without causing a sensation
almost amounting to consternation. The war chief of the party who had
been attacked by our friends during his absence, was now, with all his
men, within an easy day's march. His road lay right through our
village, and it was much to be doubted that he would keep the peace,
being one of the most noted war chiefs of New Zealand, and he and his
men returning from a successful expedition.
All now was uproar and confusion; messengers were running like mad, in
all directions, to call in stragglers; and the women were carrying fuel
and provisions into the pa, or fortress, of the tribe. This pa was a
very well built and strong stockade, composed of three lines of strong
fence and ditch, very ingeniously and artificially planned; and,
indeed, as good a defence as well could be imagined against an enemy
armed only with musketry. All the men were now working like furies,
putting this fort to rights, getting it into fighting order, mending
the fences, clearing out the ditches, knocking down houses inside the
place, clearing away brushwood and fern all around the outside within
musket shot.
I was in the thick of it, and worked all day lashing the fence; the
fence being of course not nailed, but lashed with _toro-toro_, a kind
of tough creeping plant, like a small rope, which was very strong and
well adapted for the purpose. This lashing was about ten or twelve feet
from the ground, and a stage had to be erected for the men to stand on.
To accomplish this lashing or fastening of the fence well and with
expedition required two men, one inside the fence and another outside;
all the men therefore worked in pairs, passing the end of the
_toro-toro_ from one to the other through the fence of large upright
stakes and round a cross piece which went all along the fence, by which
means the whole was connected into one strong wall. I worked away like
fury, just as if I had been born and bred a member of the community;
and moreover, not being in those days very particularly famous for what
is called prudence, I intended also, circumstances permitting, to fight
like fury too, just for the fun of the thing.
About a hundred men were employed in this part of the work, new lashing
the pa. My _vis-a-vis_ in the operation was a respectable old warrior
of great experience and approved valour, whose name being turned into
English meant "The eater of his own relations." This was quite a
different sort of diet from "melons;" and he did not bear his name for
nothing, as I could tell you if I had time; but I am half mad with
haste, lashing the pa. I will only say that my comrade was a most
bloodthirsty, ferocious, athletic savage, and his character was
depicted in every line of his tattooed face. About twenty men had been
sent out to watch the approach of the dreaded visitors. The repairing
of the stockade went on all one day and all one night, by torchlight
and by the light of huge fires lit in the inside. No one thought of
sleep. Dogs barking, men shouting, children crying, women screaming,
pigs squealing, muskets firing (to see if they were fit for active
service and would go off), and above all the doleful _tetere_ sounding.
This was a huge wooden trumpet six feet long, which gave forth a
groaning, moaning sound, like the voice of a dying wild bull. Babel,
with a dash of Pandemonium, will give a faint idea of the uproar.
All preparations having been at last made, and no further tidings of
the enemy, as I may call them, I took a complete survey of the fort; my
friend the "Relation Eater" being my companion and explaining to me the
design of the whole. I learned something that day; and I, though pretty
well "up" in the noble science of fortification, ancient and modern,
was obliged to confess to myself that a savage who could neither read
nor write--who had never heard of Cohorn or Vauban--and who was
moreover avowedly a gobbler up of his own relations, could teach me
certain practical "dodges" in the defensive art quite well worth
knowing.
A long shed of palm leaves had been also built at a safe and convenient
distance from the fort. This was for the accommodation of the expected
visitors, supposing they came in peaceful guise. A whole herd of pigs
were also collected and tied to stakes driven into the ground in the
rear of the fort. These were intended to feast the coming guests,
according to their behaviour.
Towards evening a messenger from a neighbouring friendly tribe arrived
to say that next day, about noon, the strangers might be expected; and
also that the peace, which had been concluded with their tribe during
their absence, had been ratified and accepted by them. This was
satisfactory intelligence; but, nevertheless, no precaution must be
neglected. To be thrown off guard would invite an attack, and ensure
destruction; everything must be in order: gun cleaning, flint fixing,
cartridge making, was going on in all directions; and the outpost at
the edge of the forest was not called in. All was active preparation.
The path by which these doubtful friends were coming led through a
dense forest, and came out on the clear plain about half a mile from
the pa; which plain continued and extended in every direction around
the fortress to about the same distance, so that none could approach
unperceived. The outpost, of twenty men, was stationed at about a
couple of hundred yards from the point where the path emerged from the
wood; and as the ground sloped considerably from the forest to the
fort, the whole intervening space was clearly visible.
Another night of alarm and sleepless expectation, the melancholy moan
of the _tetere_ still continuing to hint to any lurking enemy that we
were all wide awake; or rather, I should say, to assure him most
positively of it, for who could sleep with that diabolical din in his
ears? Morning came, and an early breakfast was cooked and devoured
hurriedly. Then groups of the younger men might be seen here and there
fully armed, and "getting up steam" by dancing the war-dance, in
anticipation of the grand dance of the whole warrior force of the
tribe, which, as a matter of course, must be performed in honour of the
visitors when they arrived: in honour, but quite as much in
intimidation, or an endeavour at it, though no one said so. Noon
arrived at last.
Anxious glances are turning from all quarters towards the wood, from
which a path is plainly seen winding down the sloping ground towards
the pa. The outpost is on the alert. Straggling scouts are out in every
direction. All is expectation. Now there is a movement at the outpost.
They suddenly spread in an open line, ten yards between each man. One
man comes at full speed, running towards the pa, jumping and bounding
over every impediment. Now something moves in the border of the
forest,--it is a mass of black heads. Now the men are plainly visible.
The whole _taua_ has emerged upon the plain. "Here they come! here they
come!" is heard in all directions. The men of the outpost cross the
line of march in pretended resistance; they present their guns, make
horrid grimaces, dance about like mad baboons, and then fall back with
headlong speed to the next advantageous position for making a stand.
The _taua_ however comes on steadily; they are formed in a solid oblong
mass. The chief at the left of the column leads them on. The men are
all equipped for immediate action; that is to say, quite naked except
their arms and cartridge boxes, which are a warrior's clothes. No one
can possibly tell what this peaceful meeting may end in, so all are
ready for action at a second's notice.
The _taua_ still comes steadily on. As I have said, the men are all
stripped for action, but I also notice that the appearance of nakedness
is completely taken away by the tattooing, the colour of the skin, and
the arms and equipments. The men in fact look much better than when
dressed in their Maori clothing. Every man, almost without exception,
is covered with tattooing from the knees to the waist; the face is also
covered with dark spiral lines. Each man has round his middle a belt,
to which is fastened two cartridge boxes, one behind and one before;
another belt goes over the right shoulder and under the left arm, and
from it hangs, on the left side and rather behind, another cartridge
box, and under the waist-belt is thrust, behind, at the small of the
back, the short-handled tomahawk for close fight and to finish the
wounded. Each cartridge box contains eighteen rounds, and every man has
a musket. Altogether this _taua_ is better and more uniformly armed and
equipped than ordinary; but they have been amongst the first who got
pakehas to trade with them, and are indeed in consequence the terror of
New Zealand.
On they come, a set of tall, athletic, heavy-made men; they would, I am
sure, in the aggregate weigh some tons heavier than the same number of
men taken at random from the streets of one of our manufacturing towns.
They are now half way across the plain; they keep their formation, a
solid oblong, admirably as they advance, but they do not keep step;
this causes a very singular appearance at a distance. Instead of the
regular marching step of civilized soldiers, which may be observed at
any distance, this mass seems to progress towards you with the creeping
motion of some great reptile at a distance, and when coming down a
sloping ground this effect is quite remarkable.
The mimic opposition is now discontinued; the outpost rushes in at full
speed, the men firing their guns in the air as they run. "_Takina!
takina!_" is the cry, and out spring three young men, the best runners
of our tribe, to perform the ceremony of the _taki_. They hold in their
hands some reeds to represent darts or _kokiri_. At this moment a
tremendous fire of _ball_ cartridge opens from the fort; the balls
whistle in every direction, over and around the advancing party, who
steadily and gravely come on, not seeming to know that a gun has been
fired; though they perfectly well understand that this salute is also a
hint of full preparation for any unexpected turn things may take. Now,
from the whole female population arises the shrill "_haere mai! haere
mai!_" Mats are waving, guns firing, dogs barking; the chief roaring to
"fall in," and form for the war dance. He appears half mad with
excitement, anxiety, and something very like apprehension of a sudden
onslaught from his friends.
In the midst of this horrible uproar off dart the three runners. They
are not unexpected. Three young men of the _taua_ are seen to tighten
their waist-belts and hand their muskets to their comrades. On go the
three young men from the fort. They approach the front of the advancing
column; they dance and caper about like mad monkeys, twisting their
faces about in the most extraordinary manner, showing the whites of
their eyes, and lolling out their tongues. At last, after several
feints, they boldly advance within twenty yards of the supposed enemy,
and send the reed darts flying full in their faces: then they turn and
fly as if for life. Instantly, from the stranger ranks, three young men
dart forth in eager pursuit; and behind them comes the solid column,
rushing on at full speed. Run now, O "Sounding Sea," (_Tai Haruru_),
for the "Black Cloud" (_Kapua Mangu_), the swiftest of the Rarawa, is
at your back: run now, for the honour of your tribe and your own name,
run! run! It was an exciting scene.
The two famous runners came on at a tremendous pace, the dark mass of
armed men following close behind at full speed, keeping their formation
admirably, the ground shaking under them as they rushed on. On come the
two runners (the others are left behind and disregarded). The pursuer
gains upon his man; but they are fast nearing the goal, where,
according to Maori custom, the chase must end. Run, "Sounding Sea;"
another effort! your tribe are near in full array, and armed for the
war dance; their friendly ranks are your refuge: run! run! On came the
headlong race. When within about thirty yards of the place where our
tribe was now formed in a solid oblong, each man kneeling on one knee,
with musket held in both hands, butt to ground, and somewhat sloped to
the front, the pursuing native caught at the shoulder of our man,
touched it, but could do no more. Here he must stop; to go farther
would not be "correct." He will, however, boast everywhere that he has
touched the shoulder of the famous "Sounding Sea." Our man has not,
however, been caught, which would have been a bad omen.
At this moment the charging column comes thundering up to where their
man is standing; instantly they all kneel upon one knee, holding their
guns sloped before their faces, in the manner already described. The
_elite_ of the two tribes are now opposite to each other, all armed,
all kneeling, and formed in two solid oblong masses, the narrow end of
the oblong to the front. Only thirty yards divide them; but the front
ranks do not gaze on each other: both parties turn their eyes towards
the ground, and with heads bent downwards, and a little to one side,
appear to listen. All is silence; you might have heard a pin drop. The
uproar has turned to a calm; the men are kneeling statues; the chiefs
have disappeared--they are in the centre of their tribes.
The pakeha is beginning to wonder what will be the end of all this; and
also to speculate on the efficacy of the buck shot with which his gun
is loaded, and wishes it was ball. Two minutes have elapsed in this
solemn silence; the more remarkable as being the first quiet two
minutes for the last two days and nights. Suddenly from the extreme
rear of the strangers' column is heard a scream--a horrid yell. A
savage, of herculean stature, comes, _mere_ in hand, and rushing madly
to the front. He seems hunted by all the furies. Bedlam never produced
so horrid a visage. Thrice, as he advances, he gives that horrid cry;
and thrice the armed tribe give answer with a long-drawn gasping sigh.
He is at the front; he jumps into the air, shaking his stone weapon;
the whites only of his eyes are visible, giving a most hideous
appearance to his face; he shouts the first words of the war song, and
instantly his tribe spring from the ground. It would be hard to
describe the scene which followed. The roaring chorus of the war song;
the horrid grimaces; the eyes all white; the tongues hanging out; the
furious, yet measured, and uniform gesticulation, jumping, and
stamping. I felt the ground plainly trembling.
At last the war dance ended; and then my tribe (I find I am already
beginning to get Maorified), starting from the ground like a single
man, endeavoured to out-do even their amiable friends' exhibition. They
end; then the newcomers perform another demon dance; then my tribe give
another. Silence again prevails, and all sit down. Immediately a man
from the new-arrivals comes to the front of his own party; he runs to
and fro; he speaks for his tribe; these are his words:--"Peace is made!
peace is made! peace is firm! peace is secure! peace! peace! peace!"
This man is not a person of any particular consequence in his tribe,
but his brother was killed by our people in the battle I have
mentioned, and this gives him the right to be the first to proclaim
peace. His speech is ended and he "falls in." Some three or four others
"follow on the same side." Their speeches are short also, and nearly
verbatim what the first was.
Then who, of all the world, starts forth from "ours," to speak on the
side of "law and order," but my diabolical old acquaintance the
"Relation Eater." I had by this time picked up a little Maori, and
could partly understand his speech. "Welcome! welcome! welcome! Peace
is made! not till now has there been true peace! I have seen you, and
peace is made!" Here he broke out into a song, the chorus of which was
taken up by hundreds of voices, and when it ended he made a sudden and
very expressive gesture of scattering something with his hands, which
was a signal to all present that the ceremonial was at an end for the
time.
Our tribe at once disappeared into the pa, and at the same instant the
strangers broke into a scattered mob, and made for the long shed which
had been prepared for their reception, which was quite large enough,
and the floor covered thickly with clean rushes to sleep on. About
fifty or sixty then started for the border of the forest to bring their
clothes and baggage, which had been left there as incumbrances to the
movements of the performers in the ceremonials I have described. Part,
however, of the "_impedimenta_" had already arrived on the backs of
about thirty boys, women, and old slaves; and I noticed amongst other
things some casks of cartridges, which were, as I thought, rather
ostentatiously exposed to view.
I soon found the reason my friend of saturnine propensities had closed
proceedings so abruptly was, that the tribe had many pressing duties of
hospitality to fulfil, and that the heavy talking was to commence next
day. I noticed also that to this time there had been no meeting of the
chiefs, and, moreover, that the two parties had kept strictly separate:
the nearest they had been to each other was thirty yards when the war
dancing was going on, and they seemed quite glad, when the short
speeches were over, to move off to a greater distance from each other.
Soon after the dispersion of the two parties, a firing of muskets was
heard in and at the rear of the fort, accompanied by the squeaking,
squealing, and dying groans of a whole herd of pigs. Directly
afterwards a mob of fellows were seen staggering under the weight of
the dead pigs, and proceeding to the long shed already mentioned, in
front of which they were flung down, _sans ceremonie_, and without a
word spoken. I counted sixty-nine large fat pigs flung in one heap, one
on the top of the other, before that part of the shed where the
principal chief was sitting; twelve, were thrown before the interesting
savage who had "started" the war dance; and several single porkers were
thrown without any remark before certain others of the guests. The
parties, however, to whom this compliment was paid, sat quietly saying
nothing, and hardly appearing to see what was done. Behind the pigs was
placed, by the active exertion of two or three hundred people, a heap
of potatoes and _kumera_, in quantity about ten tons, so there was no
want of the raw material for a feast.
The pigs and potatoes having been deposited, a train of women
appeared--the whole, indeed, of the young and middle-aged women of the
tribe. They advanced with a half-dancing, half-hopping sort of step, to
the time of a wild but not unmusical chant, each woman holding high in
both hands a smoking dish of some kind or other of Maori delicacy, hot
from the oven. The groundwork of this feast appeared to be sweet
potatoes and _taro_, but on the top of each smoking mess was placed
either dried shark, eels, mullet, or pork, all "piping hot." This treat
was intended to stay our guests' stomachs till they could find time to
cook for themselves. The women having placed the dishes, or, to speak
more correctly, baskets, on the ground before the shed, disappeared;
and in a miraculously short time the feast disappeared also, as was
proved by seeing the baskets flung in twos, threes, and tens, empty out
of the shed.
Next day, pretty early in the morning, I saw our chief (as I must call
him for distinction) with a few of the principal men of the tribe,
dressed in their best Maori costume, taking their way towards the shed
of the visitors. When they got pretty near, a cry of _haere mai!_
hailed them. They went on gravely, and observing where the principal
chief was seated, our chief advanced towards him, fell upon his neck,
embracing him in the most affectionate manner, and commenced a _tangi_,
or melancholy sort of ditty, which lasted a full half-hour; during
which, both parties, as in duty bound and in compliance with custom,
shed floods of tears. How they managed to do it is more than I can tell
to this day; except that I suppose you may train a man to do anything.
Right well do I know that either party would have almost given his life
for a chance to exterminate the other with all his tribe; and
twenty-seven years afterwards I saw the two tribes fighting in the very
quarrel which was pretended to have been made up that day. Before this,
however, both these chiefs were dead, and others reigned in their
stead.
While the _tangi_ was going on between the two principals, the
companions of our chief each selected one of the visitors, and, rushing
into his arms, went through a similar scene. Old "Relation Eater"
singled out the horrific savage who had begun the war dance, and these
two tenderhearted individuals, for a full half-hour, seated on the
ground, hanging on each other's necks, gave vent to such a chorus of
skilfully modulated howling as would have given Momus the blue devils
to listen to.
After the _tangi_ was ended, the two tribes seated themselves in a
large irregular circle on the plain; into this circle strode an orator,
who, having said his say, was followed by another, and so the greater
part of the day was consumed. No arms were to be seen in the hands of
either party, except the greenstone _mere_ of the principal chiefs; but
I took notice that about thirty of our people never left the nearest
gate of the pa, and that their loaded muskets, although out of sight,
were close at hand, standing against the fence inside the gate: I also
perceived that under their cloaks or mats they wore their cartridge
boxes and tomahawks. This caused me to observe the other party more
closely. They also, I perceived, had some forty men sleeping in the
shed; these fellows had not removed their cartridge boxes either, and
all their companions' arms were carefully ranged behind them in a row,
six or seven deep, against the back wall of the shed.
The speeches of the orators were not very interesting, so I took a
stroll to a little rising ground at about a hundred yards distance,
where a company of natives, better dressed than common, were seated.
They had the best sort of ornamented cloaks, and wore in their heads,
feathers, which I already knew "commoners" could not afford to wear, as
they were only to be procured some hundreds of miles to the south. I
therefore concluded these were magnates or "personages" of some kind or
other, and determined to introduce myself. As I approached, one of
these splendid individuals nodded to me in a very familiar sort of
manner, and I, not to appear rude, returned the salute. I stepped into
the circle formed by my new friends, and had just commenced a _tena
koutou_, when a breeze of wind came sighing along the hill-top; my
friend nodded again, and his cloak blew to one side. What do I see?--or
rather what do I not see? _The head has nobody under it!_ A number of
heads had been stuck on slender rods, a cross stick being tied on to
represent the shoulders, and the cloaks thrown over all in such a
natural manner as to deceive any one at a short distance; but a green
_pakeha_, who was not expecting any such matter, to a certainty.
I fell back a yard or two, so as to take a full view of this silent
circle, and felt that at last I had fallen into strange company. I
began to look more closely at my companions, and to try to fancy what
their characters in life had been. One had undoubtedly been a warrior;
there was something bold and defiant about the look of the head.
Another was the head of a very old man, grey, shrivelled, and wrinkled.
I was going on with my observations when I was saluted by a voice from
behind with, "Looking at the eds, sir?" It was one of the pakehas
formerly mentioned. "Yes," said I, turning round just the least
possible thing quicker than ordinary. "Eds has been a getting scarce,"
says he. "I should think so," says I. "We an't ad a ed this long time,"
says he. "The devil!" says I. "One o' them eds has been hurt bad," says
he. "I should think all were rather so," says I. "Oh, no, only one on
'em," says he; "the skull is split, and it won't fetch nothin'," says
he. "Oh, murder! I see, now," says I. "Eds was _werry_ scarce," says
he, shaking his own "ed." "Ah!" said I. "They had to tattoo a slave a
bit ago," says he, "and the villain ran away, tattooin' and all!" says
he. "What?" said I. "Bolted afore he was fit to kill," says he. "Stole
off with his own head?" says I. "That's just it," says he. "_Capital_
felony!" says I. "You may say that, sir," says he. "Good morning," said
I, and walked away pretty smartly. "Loose notions about heads in this
country," said I to myself; and involuntarily putting up my hand to my
own, I thought somehow the bump of combativeness felt smaller, or
indeed had vanished altogether. "It's all very funny," said I.
I walked down into the plain, and saw in one place a crowd of women,
boys, and others. There was a great noise of lamentation going on. I
went up to the crowd, and there beheld, lying on a clean mat, which was
spread on the ground, another head. A number of women were standing in
a row before it, screaming, wailing and quivering their hands about in
a most extraordinary manner, and cutting themselves dreadfully with
sharp flints and shells. One old woman, in the centre of the group, was
one clot of blood from head to feet, and large clots of coagulated
blood lay on the ground where she stood. The sight was absolutely
horrible, I thought at the time. She was singing or howling a
dirge-like wail. In her right hand she held a piece of _tuhua_, or
volcanic glass, as sharp as a razor: this she placed deliberately to
her left wrist, drawing it slowly upwards to her left shoulder, the
spouting blood following as it went, and from the left shoulder
downwards, across the breast to the short ribs on the right side; she
then shifted the rude but keen knife from the right hand to the left,
placed it to the right wrist, drawing it upwards to the right shoulder,
and so down across the breast to the left side, thus making a bloody
cross on the breast. And so the operation went on all the time I was
there; the old creature all the time howling in time and measure, and
keeping time, also with the knife, which at every cut was shifted from
one hand to the other, as I have described. She had scored her forehead
and cheeks before I came; her face and body were one mass of blood, and
a little stream was dropping from every finger: a more hideous object
could scarcely be conceived. I took notice that the younger women,
though they screamed as loud, did not cut near so deep as the old
woman; especially about the face.
This custom has been falling gradually out of use; and when practised
now, in these degenerate times, the cutting and maiming is a mere form:
slight scratching to draw enough blood to swear by; but, in "the good
old times," the thing used to be done properly. I often, of late years,
have felt quite indignant to see some degenerate hussy making believe
with a piece of flint in her hand, but who had no notion of cutting
herself up properly as she ought to do. It shows a want of natural
affection in the present generation, I think; they refuse to shed tears
of blood for their friends as their mothers used to do.
This head, I found on inquiry, was not the head of an enemy. A small
party of our friends had been surprised, and two brothers were flying
for their lives down a hill-side; a shot broke the leg of one of them
and he fell. The enemy were close at hand; already the exulting cry
"_Na! na! mate rawa!_" was heard; and the wounded man cried to his
brother, "Do not leave my head a plaything for the foe." There was no
time for deliberation. The brother _did not_ deliberate; a few slashes
with the tomahawk saved his brother's head, and he escaped with it in
his hand, dried it, and brought it home. The old woman was the mother,
the young ones were cousins: there was no sister, as I heard, when I
inquired. All the heads on the hill were heads of enemies, and several
of them are now in museums in Europe.
With reference to the knowing remarks of the pakeha who accosted me on
the hill on the state of the head market, I am bound to remark that my
friend Mr. ---- never speculated in this "article;" but the skippers of
many of the colonial trading schooners were always ready to deal with a
man who had "a real good head," and used to commission such men as my
companion of the morning to "pick up heads" for them. It is a positive
fact that some time after this the head of a live man was sold and paid
for beforehand, and afterwards honestly delivered "as per agreement."
The scoundrel slave who had the conscience to run away with his own
head after the trouble and expense had been gone to to tattoo it to
make it more valuable, is no fiction either. Even in "the good old
times" people would sometimes be found to behave in the most dishonest
manner. But there are good and bad to be found in all times and places.
Now if there is one thing I hate more than another it is the
raw-head-and-bloody-bones style of writing, and in these random
reminiscences I shall avoid all particular mention of battles,
massacres, and onslaughts; except there be something particularly
characteristic of my friend the Maori in them. As for mere hacking and
hewing, there has been enough of that to be had in Europe, Asia, and
America of late; and very well described too, by numerous "our
correspondents." If I should have to fight a single combat or two, just
to please the ladies, I shall do my best not to get killed; and I
hereby promise not to kill any one myself, if I possibly can help it.
I, however, hope to be excused for the last two or three pages, as it
was necessary to point out that in the good old times, if one's own
head was not sufficient, it was quite practicable to get another.
I must, however, get rid of our visitors. Next day, at daylight, they
disappeared: canoes from their own tribe had come to meet them (the old
woman with the flint had arrived in these canoes), and they departed
_sans ceremonie_, taking with them all that was left of the pigs and
potatoes which had been given them, and also the "fine lot of eds."
Their departure was felt as a great relief; and though it was
satisfactory to know peace was made, it was even more so to be well rid
of the peacemakers.
Hail, lovely peace, daughter of heaven! meek-eyed inventor of Armstrong
guns and Enfield rifles; you of the liquid-fire-shell, hail! Shooter at
"bulls'-eyes," trainer of battalions, killer of wooden Frenchmen, hail!
(A bit of fine writing does one good.) Nestling under thy wing, I will
scrape sharp the point of my spear with a _pipi_ shell; I will carry
fern-root into my pa; I will _cure_ those heads which I have killed in
war, or they will spoil and "won't fetch nothin'": for these are thy
arts, O peace!