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, greet 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 his 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 or 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 recognises 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
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
goodwill. 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
tattooing, 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, and it 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 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 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, or
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; 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." (Be careful not to
read _rations_.) 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 or 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 were 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. _Takini!
takini!_ 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 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; 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 outdo even their amiable friends'
exhibition. They end; then the new-comers 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, commenced a _tangi_, or
melancholy sort of ditty, which lasted a full half hour, and 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 began the war
dance, and these two tender-hearted individuals did, for a full half
hour, seated on the ground, hanging on each other's necks, give 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, and 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, and 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 had feathers in their
heads, 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,--his cloak blew to one side. What do I see?--or
rather what do I not see? _The head has no body under it!_ The heads
had all been stuck on slender rods, a cross stick tied on to represent
the shoulders, and the cloaks thrown over all in such a natural manner
as to deceive anyone 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. I began to feel
as if 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 whole air 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. I 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. I 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; then from the left shoulder
downwards, across the breast to the short ribs on the right side; then
the rude but keen knife was shifted from the right hand to the left,
placed to the right wrist, drawn 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 was a mere clot 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 mere form,
mere 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 enquiry, was not the head of an enemy. A small
party of our friends had been surprised; 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; the wounded man cried to the 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; and the old woman was the mother,--the
young ones were cousins. There was no sister, as I heard, when I
enquired. 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
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!