Trading in the Old Times.--The Native Difficulty.--Virtue its own
Reward.--Rule, Britannia.--Death of my Chief.--His Dying Speech.
--Rescue.--How the World goes round.
From the years 1822 to 1826, the vessels trading for flax had, when at
anchor, boarding nettings up to the tops; all the crew were armed, and,
as a standing rule, not more than five natives, on any pretence,
allowed on board at one time. Trading for flax in those days was to be
undertaken by a man who had his wits about him; and an old flax trader
of those days, with his 150 ton schooner "out of Sydney," cruising all
round the coast of New Zealand, picking up his five tons at one port,
ten at another, twenty at another, and so on, had questions, commercial,
diplomatic, and military, to solve every day, that would drive all
the "native department," with the minister at their head, clean out of
their senses.
Talk to me of the "native difficulty"--pooh! I think it was in 1822
that an old friend of mine bought, at Kawhia, a woman who was just
going to be baked. He gave a cartridge-box full of cartridges for her;
which was a great deal more than she was really worth: but humanity
does not stick at trifles. He took her back to her friends at Taranaki,
whence she had been taken, and her friends there gave him at once two
tons of flax and eighteen pigs, and asked him to remain a few days
longer till they should collect a still larger present in return for
his kindness; but, as he found out their intention was to take the
schooner, and knock himself and crew on the head, he made off in the
night. Yet he maintains, to this day, that "virtue is its own reward:"
"at least 'tis so at Taranaki." Virtue, however, must have been on a
visit to some other country (she _does_ go out sometimes), when I saw
and heard a British subject, a slave to some natives on the West Coast,
begging hard for somebody to buy him. The price asked was one musket;
but the only person on board the vessel possessing those articles,
preferred to invest in a different commodity. The consequence was, that
the above-mentioned unit of the great British nation lived, and ("Rule,
Britannia" to the contrary notwithstanding) died a slave: but whether
he was buried, deponent sayeth not.
My old _rangatira_ at last began to show signs that his time to leave
this world of care was approaching. He had arrived at a great age, and
a rapid and general breaking up of his strength became plainly
observable. He often grumbled that men should grow old, and oftener
that no great war broke out in which he might make a final display, and
die with _eclat_. The last two years of his life were spent almost
entirely at my house; which, however, he never entered. He would sit
whole days on a fallen puriri near the house, with his spear sticking
up beside him, and speaking to no one, but sometimes humming in a low
droning tone some old ditty which no one knew the meaning of but
himself, and at night he would disappear to some of the numerous nests,
or little sheds, he had around the place. In summer, he would roll
himself in his blanket and sleep anywhere; but no one could tell
exactly where.
In the hot days of summer, when his blood, I suppose, got a little
warm, he would sometimes become talkative, and recount the exploits of
his youth. As he warmed to the subject, he would seize his spear and go
through all the incidents of some famous combat, repeating every
thrust, blow, and parry, as they actually occurred, and going through
as much exertion as if he was really and truly fighting for his life.
He used to go through these pantomimic labours as a duty whenever he
had an assemblage of the young men of the tribe around him; to whom, as
well as to myself, he was most anxious to communicate that which he
considered the most valuable of all knowledge, a correct idea of the
uses of the spear, a weapon he really used in a most graceful and
scientific manner; but he would ignore the fact that "Young New
Zealand" had laid down the weapon for ever, and already matured a new
system of warfare adapted to their new weapons, and only listened to
his lectures out of respect to himself, and not for his science.
At last this old lion was taken seriously ill, and removed permanently
to the village; and one evening a smart, handsome lad, of about twelve
years of age, came to tell me that his _tupuna_ was dying, and had said
he would "go" to-morrow, and had sent for me to see him before he died.
The boy also added that the tribe were _ka poto_, or assembled, to the
last man, around the dying chief. I must here mention that, though this
old _rangatira_ was not the head of his tribe, he had been for about
half a century the recognized war chief of almost all the sections, or
_hapu_, of a very numerous and warlike _iwi_, or tribe, who had now
assembled from all their distant villages and pas to see him die. I
could not, of course, neglect the invitation, so at daylight next
morning I started on foot for the native village. On my arrival about
mid-day, I found it crowded by a great assemblage of natives. I was
saluted by the usual _haere mai!_ and a volley of musketry. I at once
perceived that, out of respect to my old owner, the whole tribe from
far and near, hundreds of whom I had never seen, considered it
necessary to make much of me,--at least for that day,--and I found
myself consequently at once in the position of a "personage." "Here
comes the pakeha!--_his_ pakeha!--make way for the pakeha!--kill those
dogs that are barking at the pakeha!" Bang! bang! Here a double barrel
nearly blew my cap off, by way of salute: I did for a moment think my
head was off. However, being quite _au fait_ in Maori etiquette by this
time, thanks to the instructions and example of my old friend, I fixed
my eyes with a vacant expression, looking only straight before me,
recognized nobody, and took notice of nothing; not even the muskets
fired under my nose or close to my back at every step, and each, from
having four or five charges of powder, making a report like a cannon.
On I stalked, looking neither to the right or the left, with my spear
walking-staff in my hand, to where I saw a great crowd, and where I of
course knew the dying man was. I walked straight on, not even
pretending to see the crowd: as was "correct" under the circumstances;
I being supposed to be entranced by the one absorbing thought of seeing
"mataora," or once more in life my _rangatira_.
The crowd divided as I came up, and closed again behind me as I stood
in the front rank before the old chief, motionless; and, as in duty
bound, trying to look the image of mute despair: which I flatter myself
I did, to the satisfaction of all parties. The old man I saw at once
was at his last hour. He had dwindled to a mere skeleton. No food of
any kind had been prepared for or offered to him for three days: as he
was dying it was of course considered unnecessary. At his right side
lay his spear, tomahawk, and musket. (I never saw him with the musket
in his hand all the time I knew him.) Over him was hanging his
greenstone _mere_, and at his left side, close, and touching him, sat a
stout, athletic savage, with a countenance disgustingly expressive of
cunning and ferocity; and who, as he stealthily marked me from the
corner of his eye, I recognized as one of those limbs of Satan, a Maori
_tohunga_. The old man was propped up in a reclining position, his face
towards the assembled tribe, who were all there waiting to catch his
last words. I stood before him and I thought I perceived he recognized
me. Still all was silence, and for a full half hour we all stood there,
waiting patiently for the closing scene. Once or twice the _tohunga_
said to him in a very loud voice, "The tribe are assembled, you won't
die silent?"
At last, after about half an hour, he became restless, his eyes rolled
from side to side, and he tried to speak; but failed. The circle of men
closed nearer, and there was evidence of anxiety and expectation
amongst them; but a dead silence was maintained. Then suddenly, without
any apparent effort, and in a manner which startled me, the old man
spoke clearly out, in the ringing metallic tone of voice for which he
had been formerly so remarkable, particularly when excited. He spoke.
"Hide my bones quickly where the enemy may not find them: hide them at
once." He spoke again--"Oh my tribe, be brave! be brave that you may
live. Listen to the words of my pakeha; he will unfold the designs of
his tribe." This was in allusion to a very general belief amongst the
natives at the time, that the Europeans designed sooner or later to
exterminate them and take the country; a thing the old fellow had
cross-questioned me about a thousand times: and the only way I could
find to ease his mind was to tell him that if ever I heard any such
proposal I would let him know, protesting at the same time that no such
intention existed. This notion of the natives has since that time done
much harm, and will do more, for it is not yet quite given up.
He continued--"I give my _mere_ to my pakeha,"--"my two old wives will
hang themselves,"--(here a howl of assent from the two old women in the
rear rank)--"I am going; be brave after I am gone." Here he began to
rave; he fancied himself in some desperate battle, for he began to call
to celebrated comrades who had been dead forty or fifty years. I
remember every word--"Charge!" shouted he--"Charge! _Wata_, charge!
_Tara_, charge! charge!" Then after a short pause--"Rescue! rescue! to
my rescue! _ahau! ahau! rescue!_" The last cry for "rescue" was in such
a piercing tone of anguish and utter desperation, that involuntarily I
advanced a foot and hand, as if starting to his assistance; a movement,
as I found afterwards, not unnoticed by the superstitious tribe. At the
same instant that he gave the last despairing and most agonizing cry
for "rescue," I saw his eyes actually blaze, his square jaw locked, he
set his teeth, and rose nearly to a sitting position, and then fell
back dying. He only murmured--"How sweet is man's flesh," and then the
gasping breath and upturned eye announced the last moment.
The _tohunga_ now, bending close to the dying man's ear, roared out,
"_Kia kotahi ki te ao! Kia kotahi ki te ao! Kia kotahi ki te po!_" The
poor savage was now, as I believe, past hearing, and gasping his last
"_Kia kotahi ki te ao!_"--shouted the devil priest again in his ear,
and shaking his shoulder roughly with his hand--"_Kia kotahi ki te
ao!--Kia kotahi ki te po!_" Then giving a significant look to the
surrounding hundreds of natives, a roar of musketry burst forth. _Kia
kotahi ki te ao!_ Thus in a din like pandemonium, guns firing, women
screaming, and the accursed _tohunga_ shouting in his ear, died "Lizard
Skin," as good a fighting man as ever worshipped force or trusted in
the spear. His death on the whole was thought happy; for his last words
were full of good omen:--"How sweet is man's flesh."
Next morning the body had disappeared. This was contrary to ordinary
custom, but in accordance with the request of the old warrior. No one,
even of his own tribe, knows where his body is concealed, but the two
men who carried it off in the night. All I know is that it lies in a
cave, with the spear and tomahawk beside it.
The two old wives were hanging by the neck from a scaffold at a short
distance, which had been made to place potatoes on out of the reach of
rats. The shrivelled old creatures were quite dead. I was for a moment
forgetful of the "correct" thing, and called to an old chief, who was
near, to cut them down. He said, in answer to my hurried call,
"By-and-by; it is too soon yet: _they might recover_." "Oh," said I, at
once recalled to my sense of propriety, "I thought they had been
hanging all night," and thus escaped the great risk of being thought a
mere meddling pakeha. I now perceived the old chief was employed making
a stretcher, or _kauhoa_, to carry the bodies on. At a short distance
also were five old creatures of women sitting in a row, crying, with
their eyes fixed on the hanging objects, and everything was evidently
going on _selon les regles_. I walked on. "_E tika ana_," said I, to
myself. "It's all right, I dare say."
The two young wives had also made a desperate attempt in the night to
hang themselves, but had been prevented by two young men, who, by some
unaccountable accident, had come upon them just as they were stringing
themselves up; and who, seeing that they were not actually "ordered for
execution," by great exertion, and with the assistance of several
female relations, whom they called to their assistance, prevented them
from killing themselves out of respect for their old lord. Perhaps it
was to revenge themselves for this meddling interference that these two
young women married the two young men before the year was out; in
consequence of which, and as a matter of course, the husbands were
robbed by the tribe of everything they had in the world (which was not
much), except their arms. They also had to fight some half-dozen duels
each with spears; in which, however, no one was killed, and no more
blood drawn than could be well spared. All this they went through with
commendable resignation; and so, due respect having been paid to the
memory of the old chief, and the appropriators of his widows duly
punished according to law, farther proceedings were stayed, and
everything went on comfortably. And so the world goes round.