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