OUR CLASSIC GROUND.
When the history of New Zealand comes to be written, and when a new
generation finds time to look back upon the country's past, that also
having grown with the coming years, a new want will imperceptibly
arise. A desire will develop in people's minds for something to
reverence. Out of the crudest materials will be erected monuments to
the past, and the older these become the more they will be esteemed,
while the events they speak of will come to be regarded as of greater
and greater importance. So it has been with England; so it has been in
America; so it will be in Australia and New Zealand. Nay, already the
first symptoms of the feeling are beginning to appear among us.
America has gathered all the force of sacred memories round Plymouth
Rock and Bunker Hill, Manhattan and Yorktown, and other places
commemorative of the crises, or romantic episodes, of her history.
So, in like manner, shall our descendants find spots connected with
the long ago, whose tales shall serve to quicken the glow of patriotic
sentiment in their hearts.
Laugh, reader, if you like. The early events of our history seem so
trivial to you now. You cannot get up any enthusiasm about them,
anyhow. Yet future generations will have another and more generous
feeling. A time will come when crowds of tourists, guide-book in hand,
will rush from southern cities to "do" those quiet places that now
seem utterly forgotten. Take my word for it; that of a man who never
romanced!
Probably there will be spots of more or less renown scattered up and
down throughout all the country. But the region destined to be most
widely known and justly celebrated, held in high regard from its wealth
of associations with the earliest days of our history, and esteemed
not lightly either for its natural scenery, is that comprised within
the three counties of Bay of Islands, Mongonui, and Hokianga. Already,
even, this is worthy to be named the classic ground of New Zealand.
Some of our little community in the Kaipara go up into the Bay not
infrequently. We have good friends living up in that part, and we go on
pleasure as well as on business. Dandy Jack is up there oftenest of
any, for he does some trade in those districts in horses and cattle.
One or two of us go to help him, and we have, on certain occasions,
joined land-surveying expeditions, whose head-quarters were in the Bay.
So that, on the whole, we know the three counties tolerably well.
Our route from here lies through the Maungaturoto bush, and up to
Mangapai and Whangarei, a distance of forty-and-odd miles. Beyond that
is another stretch of about the same distance, before the Kawakawa is
reached. The greater part of the way lies through dense forest, but
there is a track along which it is possible to ride. This is called
a road in these parts, but as the most experienced bushman is apt to
lose it altogether on occasions, its actual character may be guessed.
I believe Dandy Jack did once accomplish the whole journey to the
Kawa-kawa in two days. As a rule, however, it takes us four. The
nature of the track is not adapted for quick riding, so that twenty or
twenty-five miles is about as much as we can make in the day.
We have to camp out at nights, of course, except the one night we put
up at Whangarei, but this is no uncommon experience for us. There are
some creeks to be crossed that are rather ugly when full of water; one
or two must be swum sometimes. It is a fearful and arduous job to bring
cattle along this road, as might be expected. Some are pretty sure
to be lost out of the drove, while some will get stuck in the mud of
marshes and crossings, and a rare job it is to extricate them.
Once we had a pack-horse with us, laden with stores and utensils for
a surveyor's camp. He was led with a rope as we rode. Just at one of
the worst parts he broke away and bolted, kicking and bucking as he
went, the result being that the baggage went flying in all directions.
It took us half a day or more to recapture the horse, and to pick up
his scattered load. This will serve to illustrate some of the pleasing
incidents of travel in the bush.
On one occasion Old Colonial, Dandy Jack, and I were camped somewhere
beyond Whangarei. We were making the journey up to fetch down some
cattle. We were in a little dingle beside a small stream. The huge
fire was blazing merrily in front, lighting up the tree-trunks with
weird effect, and making the shadows of the forest round us seem more
profound. Near by our horses were tethered, and we lay, now our supper
was done, rolled in our blankets, pipes in mouth, and heads pillowed on
our saddles.
We were talking of some improvements that had been recently effected
in the settlements, and from that we got to speculating on the future.
Dandy Jack was wearily sighing for the good time when there should be
a decent road constructed along this route.
"Wonder whether I shall live to see it;" he said.
"Of course you will," replied Old Colonial, who is nothing if not
optimistic in his views.
"I tell you what; we shall all live to see not only a good road through
this, but farms and settlements and hotels along it!"
"Bravo!" returned Dandy Jack. "Then I'll start a coach to run from
Kawa-kawa to Whangarei, and on to Mangawai, or across to Te Pahi,
perhaps. Might pick up some trade, don't you think?"
"I reckon your coach would be a failure, old man," continued Old
Colonial. "I expect to see a railway one of these days, connecting
Auckland with the Bay, and all the places between. Not much room for
your coach then!"
"Oh, they'll not make a railroad up here this century."
"I expect they will, though," said our chief, impressively.
"And, look here! I'll tell you what's going to help make business for
it. The Bay and Hokianga are our classic ground."
"Classic ground?"
"Certainly. Here are the places where Captain Cook came, and Tasman,
and all the early voyagers. Here's where the first missionaries
came; where colonization commenced; where British sovereignty was
established. Here's where the history of the early days has got to be
written. Here's where Hongi lived, and Hone Heke after him; where the
first Maori war was fought; where battles were won, and pas stormed,
and treaties signed. This is the most illustrious district in the whole
colony. Whatever memories we've got date from here. I tell you that
streams of tourists will want to come and see these places some day. We
ought to make more of them now than we do."
So rhapsodized Old Colonial, after a manner that occasionally affects
him, while the forest gleamed redly round us with the reflection of
our camp-fire, and a bittern boomed in mockery and remonstrance from a
neighbouring swamp. I heard Dandy Jack softly murmuring to the trees—
"Meet nurse for a poetic child;
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood!
Land of the mountain and the flood!"
And when Old Colonial attempted to continue—
"If this isn't classic ground, what is, I should like to know?
Posterity will—--"
Dandy Jack cut him short with a loud declamation from "Locksley
Hall." But I remembered the allusion to classic ground, in spite of
our merriment at the time, and, accordingly, it finds effect in this
chapter.
The little settlement of Mangapai is much like those we are accustomed
to in the Kaipara. It is situated on a creek and inlet of the Whangarei
Harbour. But the township of Whangarei itself, some eight miles further
north, is in a considerably more advanced stage than anything we can
show.
The harbour is something like our Kaipara, only of less extent. It
is a considerable inlet of the sea, with Heads at the entrance, some
tidal rivers, and creeks navigable for a short distance. There is
direct communication by sea with Auckland, kept up by means of sundry
schooners and sailing-craft. The large steamer _Iona_, which plies
between Auckland, Bay of Islands, and Mongonui every week, calls at
Whangarei Heads on each trip for passengers. A small steamer plies
within the harbour itself.
Whangarei township is a remarkably favourable specimen of a bush
settlement. It stands on a river, and is about seventeen miles distant
from the Heads. The little town occupies a flat, rendered very
picturesque by the gardens about the houses, and by a surrounding
amphitheatre of bush-clothed heights. There is a church, hotels,
stores, schools, mills, streets and roads, even a local newspaper, to
bear evidence to the energy and prosperity of the settlers.
The district round about the Whangarei waters is rich soil for the most
part, mainly covered with bush in its natural condition. Settlement
took place here a good many years before it was begun in the Kaipara,
consequently more improvement has been effected. The pioneer farms and
homesteads show a surprising amount of comfort. They have lots of grass
for pasturage, and two or three thousand acres of plough-lands in the
aggregate as well.
Then there are two special industries in the place. One is
lime-burning, the product being sent to supply Auckland demands for
it. The other is coal-mining. A mine was opened here some years ago,
and was afterwards flooded and consequently closed, remaining unworked
for some time. It has now again been re-opened, and is in full swing
of work, though the operations are only carried out in a small way
comparatively.
One would think that the road, so called, connecting two settlements of
such relative importance as Whangarei and Kawa-kawa, would be a better
one than it is. The distance is between forty and fifty miles, and
there is no settlement between. The road is just a track, along which
it is possible to ride and drive cattle. A good part of the way lies
through heavy bush.
But there is really very little traffic between these places, and what
there is can be best transacted by sea. It is the general fashion in a
country like this. Each settlement requires water-communication with
Auckland, and cares little at present for anything else. A settler
makes a road down to the river, or to the settlement on the river,
sufficient for his own purposes, and as short as possible. That is all
he particularly wants. The necessity for roads between settlements, and
to open up the back-country, only grows gradually with time. Of course
in other parts of the colony, where there is not water everywhere as in
the North, the case is widely different. A good road or a railway is
the first and chief thing needed there.
At Kawa-kawa we are in the Bay of Islands, and consequently within
the classic ground. Indeed, south-east of Kawa-kawa is the site of
the famous pa of Ruapekapeka, which was a strong native fortress,
constructed with a degree of skill, and science almost, that astonished
military engineers.
The Kawa-kawa river gives its name to the district. There is a good
deal of settlement and pioneer-farming round here and in Pakaru
district, but the chief industry of the place is coal-mining. A
hundred to a hundred and fifty colliery hands are employed, forming,
with their families, a good nucleus of population. Manganese and cement
are also mined here.
The seam is twelve and a half feet thick; and the output about three
thousand tons a month. There are some half-dozen miles of railway,
connecting the mine with a suitable shipping-place, near where
the river joins the waters of the bay itself. A fleet of coasters
is constantly employed carrying coal to Grahamstown and Auckland.
Extensive coal-beds exist in many parts of the North, but Whangarei and
Kawa-kawa are the only workings at present. I have seen some carbonized
cocoa-nuts extracted from the Kawa-kawa mine, which prove that the
cocoa-nut palm must once have grown here, though it does not now.
There is nothing particularly classic about a colliery village,
however, although it may be situated in a primeval solitude, and amid
woodland scenery, where axe and spade are busy converting the wilds
into cultivated farms. The river winds down through grand mountainous
tracts, and then we find ourselves on the bosom of the gloriously
beautiful bay, the most picturesque and most romantic of all places in
the North—more, the home of the first chapters of our history.
I will not go so far as to say that the Bay of Islands is as lovely as
Sydney Harbour, nor can I allow that it throws certain choice bits of
scenery in the Kaipara and the Hokianga estuaries entirely into the
shade. But it certainly is a most picturesque place. The views are so
varied, so wholly unique; and the stories connected with every corner
of the bay throw such a romantic halo over the whole, that I feel quite
justified in endorsing the opinion that the Bay of Islands is, and
always must be, the most remarkable place in Northern New Zealand.
The entrance of the bay is guarded by two great rocky headlands, Cape
Wiwiki and Cape Brett. These stand some twelve miles apart, and the
distance from them to the back of the bay is about twenty miles. But
numerous inlets open up into the land, and four considerable creeks,
the Keri-keri, Waitangi, Kawa-kawa, and Waitari fall into the bay,
forming large estuaries at their junction with it. The promontories,
headlands, and indentations of the shores, together with the hundred
islands and islets that thickly stud the waters, diversify the scenery
very much, and cause you to think, as you sail or row between them,
that you are gliding from river into river and from channel into
channel, with broad lake-like reaches interspersed.
About fifteen miles from Cape Brett, and on the same side of the bay, a
promontory of considerable size juts out. Upon the inner side of this
stands Kororareka, capital of the Bay, and its port of entry.
Officialism has recently been trying very hard to alter the name of
this place into Russell, which action is much deprecated by settlers,
who insist upon retaining the old native name. The reason for the
proposed change is not very clear, and why this particular town should
have been so singled out is equally inexplicable to the unofficial
mind. It seems to be a great pity, in any case, to bestow such names
as Smithville, or Russell, or New London upon growing settlements,
the future cities of a future nation. It is a pity because they are
not distinctive, nor expressive of the country upon which they are
grafted. How much better to retain the old native names, which carry
with them sound and meaning both original and peculiar. Educated
Americans are beginning to find this out, and to regret the loss of an
indigenous character, which springs from the vulgarity and confusion
of their nomenclature. How much better are such names as Pensacola or
Tallahassee, than New Orleans or New York?
In New Zealand native names have been very largely retained, though
less so in the south than in the north. But jacks in office are for
ever trying to perpetuate their own names, or those of individuals whom
they toady, by making them do duty for towns or counties or rivers. It
is a "vulgarian atrocity," similar to that which moves a cockney soul
to scratch its ignoble appellative upon pyramid or monolith.
In this particular instance, it is a positive shame to hurl such an
insulting degradation into our classic ground. Kororareka, under
that name, is the oldest settlement in the colony. It is intimately
associated with early history. Kororareka—"The Beach of Shells"—was
once a native kainga. Then it became a whaling station, and earned
notoriety as a piratical stronghold, and the pandemonium of the
Pacific. From that it was erected into the first capital of the colony,
metropolis and seat of government for all New Zealand, under Mr. Busby,
the British resident, and, in 1840, Captain Hobson, the first governor.
It was plundered and burnt by Heke and Kawiti, and was a central point
of the first Maori war.
Kororareka is a quiet little village now, and is never likely to
grow into much more, unless it should become a manufacturing centre.
Other places must take the trade of the district eventually. Hence,
Kororareka will always rest its chief claim to note upon its past
history; so to call it Russell is to spoil its little romance. It is
an outrageous vandalism, a nonsensical piece of spite or idiotcy that,
in a philological and sentimental sense, is almost to be regarded as a
crime.
As you come into sight of Kororareka from the bay, you are favourably
impressed by its appearance. The town stands upon a wide flat, bordered
by a high beach of white shingle and shells, from the centre of which
a large wharf runs out for shipping to come alongside. A street of
houses, stores and hotels principally, faces the beach, and gives the
place all the airs of a miniature Brighton or Margate. Some other
straggling streets run back from this.
The background is a low grassy range, evidently farm-lands. This range
shuts out all view of the bay on the other side of the promontory.
To the right it merges into the mountain tract that sentinels the
Waitari and Kawa-kawa estuaries. On the left rises an abrupt and wooded
hill, fissured with many romantic little glens and hollows. From this
eminence, to which a road winds up from the town through the woods, a
most magnificent view is obtainable. A great part of the panorama of
this island-studded harbour lies stretched below one's feet; and on the
highest crest is a certain famous flagstaff.
Kororareka is not very large. The resident population is probably
not more than two or three hundred. Farming industry round it is
comparatively small. Its communication overland with other places is
not good, and the hilly character of the contiguous land presents great
difficulties in the way of the formation of roads. The place depends on
its harbour, which is much used by whalers, who come here to tranship
or sell oil, and to take in supplies. Quiet and dead-alive as it seems
in general, there are times when a number of vessels are assembled
here, and when bustle and business is consequently pretty brisk.
Before settled government and colonization overtook New Zealand,
this spot had achieved an unsavoury reputation. Originally a native
town, it had gradually become the resort of whaling-ships. Traders
established themselves here, and a rowdy population of runaway sailors,
ex-convicts, bad characters, and debauched Maoris filled the place.
Drunkenness and riot were the general order of things; and it was even
said that Kororareka was developing into a nest of pirates. There was
no sort of government to restrain the evil, and man's passions, as
usual, were transforming a natural Eden into a moral hell.
During these days of anarchy there is no doubt that Kororareka was a
sad thorn in the side to the missionaries, who were achieving wonderful
results among the native tribes. The wanton profligacy of whites in
Kororareka infected their converts, and interfered sadly with the
Christianizing of the Maoris. Moreover, other places of a like nature
began to spring up here and there on the coasts.
One would have thought that sober, God-fearing men would have hailed
the establishment of British government, and would have done much to
further colonization. Such, however, was far from being the idea or
action of the early missionaries. So far as the missionaries in New
Zealand were themselves concerned, they would seem to have turned a
very cold shoulder to such of their countrymen as adventured thither,
independently of the missions. So we are informed by one or two
travellers who visited the country between 1814 and 1840. Nor is this
feeling at all to be wondered at, considering the class of men who came
to Kororareka. The European adventurers who came to New Zealand then
were so generally of a loose and lawless order, that it is scarcely
matter for surprise that missionaries should have looked askance at
every white man they saw.
This feeling spread to the Societies at home in England, and was,
doubtless, much exaggerated among their more zealous, but less
large-minded supporters. It became mingled with a desire to preserve
New Zealand for its aboriginal race; to convert and civilize that
people; and to foster their self-government under the direct influence
of the missionaries. And it must be borne in mind that the missionaries
were really unacquainted with the extent of the country, and with the
actual number of its native inhabitants; while people in England had
very vague ideas regarding their antipodes.
A party was formed in England, which has been styled "the Exeter Hall
party." The persons adhering to its views did all in their power to
prevent English colonization, or English government being established
in New Zealand. The merits of the question as between them and their
opponents need not concern us now.
The existence of such a place as Kororareka was felt to be a curse to
the whole of the South Sea, and did not fail to affect even Sydney,
two thousand miles away. There were not wanting some to press upon
the Imperial Government the necessity of annexation and of active
steps being taken. The Exeter Hall party, however, frustrated their
endeavours, actuated thereto by motives that time has shown to have
been founded on miscomprehension and mistake.
Guided by the Exeter Hall influence, and by representations made by the
missionaries, the Imperial Government took a decided step in 1835. They
recognized New Zealand as independent, treated with a confederation
of Maori chiefs, and bestowed a national flag upon the country, thus
forfeiting the claim acquired from Captain Cook's original discovery.
Mr. Busby was appointed to be British resident at Kororareka; as,
however, he had no force to act with, he was unable to preserve order
in that place, and he had neither influence nor power wherewith to
uphold the dignity of his office and of the country he represented.
Persons in England who had been desirous of seeing New Zealand
converted into an appanage of the British crown, covered their
disappointment by forming an association, styled "The New Zealand
Company," much upon the basis of the old East Indian Company. They
proceeded to form settlements upon a system of their own; a pioneering
expedition being sent out in 1839, and the first body of emigrants
landing at Port Nicholson in 1840. Their action, together with the
outcry caused by the condition of things at Kororareka, caused the
Imperial Government to reverse its former policy.
Another circumstance operated to hasten the Government's decision.
French Roman Catholic missions had been established in New Zealand,
and were gaining many converts among the Maoris. In 1837 a French
nobleman, one Baron de Thierry, purchased a large area in Hokianga,
and sought to establish himself there as a sovereign prince. Then the
French Government prepared to annex the islands as a possession of
France.
In January, 1840, Captain Hobson arrived at Kororareka in command of
H.M.S _Rattlesnake_, instructed to hoist the British standard, which
he only succeeded in doing a few hours before a French ship arrived
for a similar purpose. Captain Hobson at once found a staunch ally in
the person of Tamati Waka, a powerful Ngapuhi chief. By this man's
influence the Christianized chiefs of the North were gathered together,
and induced to sign the famous Treaty of Waitangi, on March 5, 1840.
That instrument is the title-deed of the colony. It was the formal
cession of sovereignty to Queen Victoria, by the principal men of the
Maori nation.
The missionaries have been severely criticized for the policy and
line of action adopted by them, and by the Exeter Hall party at
home. Doubtless much might be said on either side, were it in any
way desirable to reopen a somewhat bitter controversy. One thing is
certain, that nowhere, and at no time, have missionaries of the Church
of England, and of the Wesleyan body, found their labours followed
by more signal success than in New Zealand; and the zeal, fortitude,
and high-souled devotion of the pioneers of the gospel in our Brighter
Britain, must surely win the admiration of even the enemies of
Christianity.
Not far from Cape Wiwiki, on the northern shore of the Bay of Islands,
and half a day's sail away from Kororareka, is a spot of great
interest. Sheltered within high craggy headlands, and shut out from the
open bay by a rocky and bush-clothed island, is a bright and peaceful
little cove. There are but few signs of life here; the place looks
almost deserted. A couple of houses are visible, divided by rising
ground; and a farm lies round them, bounded by hills wearing the
evergreen verdure of the forest.
Walking about this farm, you perceive that it is not of very great
extent—a hundred acres or so, probably. But you are at once struck
with something that is strange to you, after the pioneer homesteads of
the Kaipara. The turf is old and smooth, the fields are drained and
level, the ditches are embanked, the hedges full-grown and thick, the
imported trees are in maturity. Everything denotes that this is no new
clearing. Abundant evidence is all around to testify to the truth of
what the hospitable farmer will tell you, namely, that the cultivation
here is sixty years old.
This place is Te Puna, ever to be renowned as the site of the first
mission, established here by the Rev. Samuel Marsden, in 1814.
The incentives those early missionaries had to go to New Zealand were
certainly not of an engaging kind. They knew that the natives were
a fierce and bloodthirsty set of savages, that they were constantly
at war among themselves, and were addicted to cannibalism. Although
some few individuals had visited Sydney, and seemed tractable
enough, assuring Mr. Marsden of their good will and power to protect
missionaries, yet there was no sort of certainty. The Maoris were known
to be badly disposed to strangers, on the whole, and many stories of
their treachery were current. Since Marion du Fresne, with fifteen men,
was killed by Maoris in the Bay of Islands, there had been various
instances of a similar kind. Only a year or two before, the ship _Boyd_
had been seized in Whangaroa Harbour, and her company, numbering fifty
persons, had been butchered and eaten.
With these facts before their minds to encourage them, Marsden and his
brave companions went unhesitatingly into what must have seemed the
very jaws of death, resolved to sow the gospel seed in this virgin
wild. In December, 1814, the Revs. Marsden, Kendall, King, and Nicholas
landed here at Te Puna. Public worship was held here for the first time
on Christmas Day.
At that period there was a large population on the shores and islands
of the bay, which has since disappeared or moved elsewhere, for the
most part. There would seem to have been a considerable kainga either
at or near Te Puna. Here, therefore, land was bought, houses and a
church of some kind put up, and the mission duly inaugurated. One of
the missionaries was actually accompanied by his wife, and she gave
birth to a son shortly after they landed. He was the first white man
born in New Zealand, and he still resides near the bay, with other
families descended from the same parents. Some of us have often
partaken of their hospitality.
There is no mission at Te Puna now, and only the two households for
population, but the original mission continued there a good many
years. Soon after its origination, another station was opened on the
Keri-keri river, about twenty miles from Te Puna. Here there is a stone
block-house, which was erected for defence, if necessary. It is now
used as a store. There is besides a most comfortable homestead, the
residence of a family descended from one of the early missionaries.
It is a very pleasant spot, with all the air of an English country
grange, save and except that block-house, and other mementoes of the
past that our hospitable hosts have been pleased to show us.
Some miles along the shore of the bay, from the point where the
Keri-keri estuary opens from it, we come to Paihia, at the mouth of
the Waitangi. This is directly opposite to Kororareka, from which
it is five or six miles distant. Just down the shore is a villa
residence, and one or two other houses, indicating the farm of a
wealthy settler. A splendidly situated home that, with its glorious
view over the picturesque bay, its surrounding gardens and orchards,
and its background of woods and mountains. Here was where the first
printing-press in New Zealand was set up.
Near by, but opening upon the Waitangi rather than on the bay, is a
deep, dark glen. At the bottom of it, and filling the lower ground,
are the wharès and cultivations of a good-sized Maori kainga. There
are some frame-houses, too, which show how civilized our brown
fellow-subjects are becoming. And from here we can row up the winding
Waitangi river to another point of interest.
Some miles above, the influx of the tides is stopped by high falls,
just as it also is in the Keri-keri river, close to the old station.
Waitangi Falls is the port for all the inland country on this side.
There is a young settlement here, and the place is remarkable for being
the spot where the famous treaty was signed. Moreover, the falls are
well worth looking at.
One of the most interesting stories relating to the Bay of Islands is
that of the first Maori war, which was waged around it from 1845 to
1847. It has been related often enough, and I can only find room for
some very brief details. Such as they are, they are mostly gathered
from the oral narrations of eye-witnesses, both English and Maori,
whose testimony I feel more inclined to believe than that of some
printed accounts I have seen.
Hone Heke was the leader of one of the sections into which the great
Ngapuhi tribe had split after the death of the celebrated Hongi Hika,
who expired March 5, 1828. Captain Hobson's friend, Tamati Waka,
was chief of another section; while Kawiti, another chief, headed a
third. These persons were then paramount over pretty nearly the whole
region lying between Mongonui and the Kaipara. They had been among
the confederate chiefs whom the British Government recognized as
independent in 1835; and their signatures were, subsequently to that,
attached to the Treaty of Waitangi.
Shortly after the proclamation of New Zealand as a British possession,
Governor Hobson, seeing that Kororareka was unsuited for a metropolis,
removed the seat of government to the Waitemata, and there commenced a
settlement which is now the city of Auckland. Order had been restored
in the former place, but its importance and its trade now fell away.
The Ngapuhi had some grievances to put up with. The trade of the Bay
was much lessened; import duties raised the price of commodities; while
the growing importance of Auckland gave advantages to the neighbouring
tribes, the Ngatitai, Ngapaoa, Waikato, and Ngaterangi, which the
Ngapuhi of the Bay of Islands had formerly monopolized. It needed but
little to foment the discontent of a somewhat turbulent ruler such as
Hone Heke.
In the year 1844 this chief, visiting Kororareka, and probably venting
his dissatisfaction at the new regime pretty loudly, was incited by
certain of the bad characters, who had previously had it all their
own way in the place. They taunted him with having become the slave
of a woman, showing him the flag, and explaining that it meant his
slavery to Queen Victoria, together with all Maoris. In such a way they
proceeded to work up his feelings, probably without other intention
than to take a rise out of the Maori's misconception of the matter.
Hone Heke took the thing seriously. He said that he did not consider
himself subject to any one. He was an independent chief, merely in
alliance with the British, and had signed the Treaty of Waitangi in
expectation of receiving certain rewards thereby, which it appeared had
been changed into penalties. As for the flag, if that was an emblem of
slavery, a Pakeha fetish, or an insult to Maoridom, it was clear that
it ought to be removed, and he was the man to do it.
Accordingly, he and his followers then present, marched at once up the
hill above Kororareka, and cut down the flagstaff that had been set
up there. Then they withdrew quietly enough. The settlers were much
disconcerted, having no means of coercing Heke, and not knowing to what
this might lead. However, they set the flagstaff up again.
Hone Heke appeared once more with his band, this time in fierce anger.
They cut down the restored flagstaff, and either threw it into the
sea, or burnt it, or carried it off. Heke also threatened to destroy
Kororareka if any attempt was made to fly the British flag again.
H.M.S. _Hazard_ now came up from Auckland, where considerable
excitement agitated the young settlement. The flagstaff was again
restored, and, this time, a small block-house was built round it, which
was garrisoned by half a dozen soldiers.
Now, Hongi Hika, previous to his death, had enjoined a certain policy
upon his successors. He had told them never to make war upon such
Pakeha as came to preach, to farm, or to trade. These were not to be
plundered or maltreated in any way. They were friends whose presence
could only tend to the advantage of the Maori. But the English
sovereign kept certain people whose only business was to fight. They
might be known by the red coats they wore, and by having stiff necks
with a collar round them. "Kill these wherever you see them," said
Hongi; "or they will kill you."
So Hone Heke sent an ultimatum into Kororareka, to the effect that,
on a certain specified day, he should burn the town, cut down the
flagstaff, and kill the soldiers. The attack was fixed for night, and
it came with exact punctuality. Most of the inhabitants took refuge
on board the _Hazard_ and some other craft then lying in the harbour;
while these prepared to guard the beach from a canoe attack. Captain
Robertson of the _Hazard_, with some forty marines and blue-jackets,
aided also by a party of settlers, took up a position on the landward
side of the town.
Hone Heke's own mind seems to have principally been occupied with
the flagstaff. The main attack he left to Kawiti, who had joined
him, with five hundred men. Heke himself, with a chosen band, crept
round unperceived through the bush, and lay in wait near the top of
the flagstaff hill, in a little dingle, which is yet pointed out to
visitors. Here they lay for some hours, awaiting the signal of Kawiti's
attack upon the town below. While in this position, Heke kept his men
quiet by reading the Bible to them, expounding the Scriptures as he
read; for all these Ngapuhi, whether friends or foes, were professed
Christians at that period.
By-and-by, the sound of firing and shouting in the town, together with
the blazing of some of the houses, attracted the attention of the
soldiers in the little block-house round the flagstaff. Unsuspecting
any danger close at hand, they came out on to the hill, the better to
descry what was doing below. Then Heke's ambush sprang suddenly up,
and rushed between them and the open door of the block-house, thus
capturing it, and either killing or putting the startled soldiers to
flight instantaneously.
Meanwhile a furious battle was taking place in Kororareka. Captain
Robertson and his small force were outflanked and driven in upon the
town, fighting bravely and desperately. But the numbers of the Maoris
were too great for them to contend with, and Robertson, with half his
men, was killed, the rest escaping with difficulty to the ships. Then
the victorious assailants rushed upon the devoted settlement, speedily
joined by Heke's band on the opposite side. The stores and houses
were plundered and set on fire, and soon Kororareka was a charred and
smoking heap of ruins, only the two churches being left absolutely
untouched. This was the first engagement during the war, and was a
decided success for the rebels. The fall of Kororareka took place March
11, 1845; Heke having first cut down the flagstaff in July of the
previous year.
The news reached Auckland a day or two later, and something like a
panic occurred there. The settlers were armed and enrolled at once, and
the place prepared for defence; for it was said that Heke and Kawiti
had determined to destroy that settlement as well. Had they been able
to march upon it then, it is possible that their attack could not have
been successfully withstood, so limited were means of defence at that
time.
But Tamati Waka, the stout-hearted friend of the British, led out his
section of the Ngapuhi at once, and took up arms against their kinsmen
under Heke. He prevented the rebels from leaving their own districts,
and thus saved Auckland, allowing time for reinforcements to reach
New Zealand, and so for the war to be carried into Heke's own country.
All through the campaign he did efficient service on our behalf,
contributing much to the final establishment of peace.
Tamati Waka Nene, to give him his full name, had been a savage
cannibal warrior in the days of Hongi. On one occasion then he had
led a taua, or war-party, of the Ngapuhi far to the south of Hauraki
Gulf, destroying and literally "eating-up" a tribe in the Kati-kati
district. Subsequently, he embraced Christianity and civilization, but
it is evident that the old warrior spirit was strong in him to the
last. He was an extremely sagacious and intelligent politician, fully
comprehending the advantages that must accrue to his race from British
rule. He enjoyed a government pension for some years after the war,
and, when he died, a handsome monument was erected over his remains
in Kororareka churchyard. It stands not far from where bullet and
axe-marks in the old fence still show the spot where Robertson fell.
When Heke found himself pledged to war, he sent intimations to all the
settlers living about Waimate, Keri-keri, and the north of the bay,
mostly missionary families. He said he had no quarrel with them, and
would protect their persons and property if they would trust him. Some
remained, and some took refuge in Auckland. Those who stayed were never
in any way molested; Heke kept his word to them to the letter. But of
those who fled he allowed his men to pillage the farms and houses, by
way of utu for not believing him.
As soon as the authorities were in a position to do so, a strong
force was sent into the Bay district, to operate in conjunction with
Tamati Waka's men in putting down the insurrection. Three engagements
were fought, resulting in advantage to the British. The rebels were
then besieged in the fortified pa of Ohaeawae, some twenty-five miles
inland. No artillery had been brought up, and the consequence was that
our troops were repulsed from before this pa again and again, with
severe loss. But the victory was too much for the rebels, who suffered
considerably themselves, and ran short of ammunition. One night they
silently evacuated the place, which was entered next day by the
British, and afterwards destroyed. Very similar experiences followed
shortly after at the pa of Okaehau.
Finally, in 1847, the insurgents were beleaguered in the pa of
Ruapekapeka, situated near the Waitari river. This they considered
impregnable, and it was indeed magnificently defended with earthworks
and palisades, arranged in such a manner as to excite the wonder and
admiration of engineers. A model of it was subsequently made and sent
home.
Some artillery had now been got up, with immense labour and difficulty
owing to the rugged character of the ground. These guns were brought to
bear upon the pa. But the Maoris had hung quantities of loose flax over
the palisades, which fell into place again after the passage of a ball,
and hid the breach it had made. Thus the besiegers could not tell what
they had effected, while the defenders were enabled to repair the gaps
unseen.
The pa was taken in rather a curious way. It happened that no
engagement had been fought on a Sunday, and the rebels, being earnest
Christians, and having—as Maoris have to this day—a respect for the
Sabbath, more exaggerated than that of the Scots even, concluded that
an armistice was a matter of course. When Sunday morning came, they
went out of the pa at the back to hold worship after their manner.
Tamati Waka's men, perceiving this, conquered their own Sabbatical
leanings, and, finding an opening, rushed into the pa, followed by the
British troops. The disconcerted worshippers attempted to retake the
pa, but were speedily routed and scattered.
This event terminated the war. The insurgents were broken and
disheartened, their numbers reduced, their strongholds captured, and
their ammunition exhausted. They soon all laid down arms and sued for
pardon. Ever since, all the sections of the rebel tribe have been
perfectly peaceable, and take pride in the epithet earned by Tamati
Waka's force, "the loyal Ngapuhi," which is now to be applied to the
entire tribe.
This first Maori war presents some considerable contrasts to those
which had afterwards to be waged with other tribes, in Wellington,
Nelson, Taranaki, and Waikato. It was characterized by humanity on both
sides, and by an approach to the usages of conflict between civilized
peoples. The Ngapuhi had had the missionaries among them longer than
any other tribe, and had benefited greatly from their teaching. Some
barbarity they still showed, perhaps, but their general conduct was
widely different from what it would have been twenty or thirty years
before.
At the attack on Kororareka, a woman and several other fugitives were
made prisoners. They were treated kindly, and next day Hone Heke sent
them on board the ships in the harbour. A settler informed me that
he was once conveying wounded soldiers in a bullock-dray, from the
front at Ohaeawae down to the bay. On the road, a party of Heke's men
suddenly appeared out of the bush and surrounded them. They were quite
friendly, however, grounding their arms for a sociable smoke and chat.
They counted the wounded soldiers, giving them fruit, and assisting
at the passage of a dangerous creek. At parting, they merely reminded
the soldiers that if they came back they would be killed, as they, the
rebels, intended to kill or drive away all the red-coats.
Waimate is the most important centre to the north of the Bay of
Islands; it lies about ten miles inland from Waitangi Falls. The roads
from Waitangi to Waimate, to Ohaeawae and Okaehau, are really good. A
buggy might even be driven along them with perfect ease. Only, between
Waitangi and Waimate there is a formidable creek, the bridge over
which is continually being swept away by floods. Then one must cross
by a difficult and shifting ford, and, if the creek be full, it may be
necessary to swim one's horse over, as once happened to me, I remember.
On proceeding inland in this district, the ground loses its ruggedness.
It is not flat, exactly, but it is only gently undulating, and not
so violently broken as in most other parts of the north. The soil is
volcanic, the ground mostly open, and much of it splendidly fertile,
like that of the Bay of Naples. There are extinct craters and old lava
streams here and there; but there has been no evidence of activity in
them within the memory of man or of Maori tradition. The district of
active volcanoes, solfataras, hot-springs, geysers, and so on, lies
beyond the limits of the Land of the Kauri altogether.
Waimate was settled by the early missionaries. It includes lands
held by the representatives of three parent Societies. It is a large
village, composed of residences that may well be termed villas. Nearly
all the inhabitants belong to missionary families, and they form a sort
of little aristocracy here to themselves. There is a kind of old-world
air about the place: it seems to be standing still while the rest of
New Zealand is progressing fast and furiously around it. The people
are the soul of kindly hospitality, but they are a little exclusive
from the very fact of having lived here all their lives, and of having
seen but little of the outside world. For the same reason, and because
new settlers do not come up, owing to the land not being readily
obtainable, they are somewhat averse from movement, and inclined to jog
along in a settled groove.
I know of no place in the colony that presents such a striking
resemblance to a quiet, stick-in-the-mud, rural locality of the old
country. The Europeans are the gentry, and the Maoris round might pose
as the rest of the population.
There is a handsome church at Waimate, but there is no hotel, though
there are very good ones at Waitangi and Ohaeawae. There are yards and
pens to accommodate a horse, cattle, sheep, and pig-market, which is
held here at regular intervals. Waimate is a great farming centre, some
of the lands about it having been under the plough for fifty years;
still, it is a trifle backward in its modes, the farmers not striving
to make a pile, but being content to keep themselves in competence.
This may also be esteemed a central point of modern Maori civilization.
There are a number of young families growing up at Waimate, amid the
softening influences of its homely refinement. Among them are an
unusual number of young ladies. Whatever may be the faults of the
place, with regard to its lack of energy and backwardness in farming
industry, it redeems them all by the abundant crop of first-class
British rosebuds it is raising for the delectation of hungry bachelors.
Well do I remember, once, Dandy Jack rejoining a party of us, who were
up at Kawa-kawa on business. There was such a look of beatified content
upon his face, that we all exclaimed at it. He told us he had been
stopping at a house where there were ten lovely girls, between the ages
of fourteen and twenty-six. He had come to bring us an invitation to
go and visit there, too. Within half an hour every horse was saddled,
and every individual of us, having completed his most killing toilette,
was on the road to this bush-nursery of Beauty!
Six or eight miles from Waimate we come to Ohaeawae, a place of very
great interest. The most conspicuous object is the beautiful church,
whose tall spire mounts from a rising ground in the centre of the
settlement. That church occupies the very site of the old pa, and, what
is more, it was built entirely at the expense, and partly by the actual
labour, of the very Maoris who fought the British here in Heke's war.
With the exception of the principal store and hotel, and possibly of
one or two other houses near, Ohaeawae is a Maori town. A few miles
further along the road is yet another straggling settlement, whose name
I forget, and all is mainly Maori. These natives here are even further
ahead than we are in the Kaipara. They have good frame-houses in all
styles of carpentering; they have pastures fattening their flocks and
herds and droves; they have their ploughs and agricultural machinery;
and fields of wheat, potatoes, maize, and what not. They use the
telegraph and the post-office for business or pleasure; they have their
own schools, police, and handicrafts of various kinds. In short, as a
body, they seem quite as much civilized as if they were white instead
of brown. I suppose that, round Ohaeawae and Okaehau and Waimate, the
Maori may be seen in the highest state of advancement to which he has
anywhere attained. But more of him anon.
Between these settlements and the Hokianga waters, the roads become
more inchoate again, and one passes through wild land, which gets more
and more covered with bush as one proceeds. Hokianga, though it has
its history of the early days, in common with the Bay, is far behind
it in progress. In fact, Hokianga is a long way less forward than the
Kaipara, and there are very few settlers in it. Its principal features
are steep and lofty ranges, and a rich luxuriance of forest. The
scenery is magnificent.
Winding along down the Waima or Taheke rivers, no eye so dull but must
admire the glorious woodland beauties around. Soft green willows sweep
the waters, and hide the banks below their foliage like some natural
jalousie. Above is a bewildering thicket of beauty. Ferns, fern-trees,
fern-creepers, every variety of frond, mingled with hanging masses of
white star-flower, pohutukawa trees one blaze of crimson, trees and
shrubs of a hundred varieties. And above tower lofty ranges, covered
to the topmost summit with dense impenetrable woods, sparkling and
gleaming with a thousand tints in the brilliant sunshine and clear
atmosphere.
As the boat travels down the stream, teal and wild-duck splash and
glide and scuttle and fly before it. The wild birds of the bush, that
some will have it are becoming extinct, are here to be seen in greater
numbers than anywhere else I know of. Those rare green and scarlet
parrots tumble and shriek on the summits of the trees, while the large
purple sultana-ducks peep forth occasionally.
Here and there some vista opens, disclosing a little Maori kainga,
or the house and clearing of a settler, who thinks more, perhaps, of
living amidst such natural beauty than of making a prosaic pile in any
less attractive spot. I love the Kaipara, and I am in honour bound to
deem Te Puke Tapu on the Arapaoa the acme and perfection of woodland
glory—but, in the Hokianga, splendid and magnificent, one forgets
other places.
Take that gorge of the main estuary, for example, just above Wirineki,
where the Iwi Rua raises its wild peaks, and sends its tremendous
shoulders with their ridgy backs and dark ravines, all clothed in
overwhelming wealth of forest, rushing down to the blue water. What can
one say but that it is simply sublime! As Wales is to Scotland, so is
this to the Yosemite.
There is but little industry in Hokianga. There are some sawmills, but
they are comparatively small, and do not add very largely to our timber
trade. There are some farms, but they, too, are small and doing little.
There are schools, but their work is limited.
The principal settlement is Hurd's Point, to which place a steamer
comes from the Manukau once a fortnight. It is claimed here that
this is actually the oldest settlement in New Zealand, prior even
to Kororareka. A man named Hurd came here early in the century, and
established a store for trade with the Maoris; sailing vessels from
Sydney occasionally communicating with him.
The Point is about sixteen miles from the Heads. There are somewhere
about a dozen good houses, two hotels and stores. A gentleman who lives
here has even more manifold occupations than our Mayor of Te Pahi. But
the population of this, and of the district generally, is mainly Maori,
or Maori half-breed. One can trace in Hokianga some reminiscences of
the French invasion, of Baron Thierry, and of the Pikopo, as the Maoris
term the Roman Catholic mission.
While the civilization of the Maoris has advanced further here and at
Ohaeawae than it has almost anywhere else, it is curious that some very
primitive kaingas lie to the north of Hokianga. I suppose that nowhere
in the North could you find places where there is less of Pakeha
civilization and more of ancient Maori manners, than in one or two of
these. They are completely secluded, and have scarcely any intercourse
with strangers.
At these places I have been hospitably entertained, in true Maori
fashion, and have found a large amount of genial, kindly friendliness.
Some of the elders had not forgotten Heke's war, in which they had
taken part. It seemed to them to be an event of yesterday only. They
spoke of it as of something amusing, a good joke on the whole, and
without any apparent feeling that there had been anything serious in it.
Yet these people questioned me eagerly about Akarana (Auckland), and
things among the Pakeha. I rose into immense dignity among them because
I had seen and could describe Te Kwini (the Queen), Te Pirinti Weri
(the Prince of Wales), Te Pirintiti Weri (the Princess of Wales), and
Te Pikanini (the young princes and princesses). All the inhabitants
of the kainga, men, women, and children, gathered round the fire in
front of my wharè to hear what I had to tell them. There was no end to
their questions, and a sort of rapturous excitement spread among them
as I dilated on the subject of our royal family. I think it would be
no difficult thing to raise a Maori legion for foreign service. And I
am quite sure that nowhere, in all the realm upon which the sun never
sets, has Queen Victoria more devoted and enthusiastic subjects than
she has among her "loyal Ngapuhi."
* * * * *
Such is a brief, a very brief account of our most interesting region,
crammed as it is with mementoes of the past, that will grow dearer
and more valued to this country as time recedes from them. I have but
glanced at some prominent features. It would take a volume or two to
contain all that might be written.
But when that railway which Old Colonial talks of is completed,
I intend to write a guide-book to the three counties, with full
historical details. It ought to be a good spec., you know, when crowds
of tourists are rushing to "do" our classic ground!