Mana. -- Young New Zealand. -- The law of England. -- "Pop goes
the weasel." -- Right if we have might. -- God save the Queen. --
Good advice.
In the afternoon I went home musing on what I had heard and seen.
"Surely," thought I, "if one half of the world does not know how the
other half live, neither do they know how they die."
Some days after this a deputation arrived to deliver up my old
friend's _mere_. It was a weapon of great _mana_, and was delivered
with some little ceremony. I perceive now I have written this word
_mana_ several times, and think I may as well explain what it means. I
think this the more necessary as the word has been bandied about a
good deal of late years, and meanings often attached to it by
Europeans which are incorrect, but which the natives sometimes accept
because it suits their purpose. This same word _mana_ has several
different meanings, and the difference between these diverse meanings
is sometimes very great, and sometimes only a mere shade of meaning,
though one very necessary to observe; and it is, therefore, quite
impossible to find any one single word in English, or in any other
language that I have any acquaintance with, which will give the
meaning of _mana_. And, moreover, though I myself do know all the
meanings and different shades of meaning properly belonging to the
word, I find a great difficulty in explaining them; but as I have
begun, the thing must be done. It will also be a tough word disposed
of to my hand, when I come to write my Maori dictionary, in a hundred
volumes, which, if I begin soon, I hope to have finished before the
Maori is a dead language.
Now then for _mana_. _Virtus_, _prestige_, authority, good fortune,
influence, sanctity, luck, are all words which, under certain
conditions, give something near the meaning of _mana_, though not one
of them give it exactly; but before I am done, the reader shall have a
reasonable notion (for a pakeha) of what it is.
_Mana_ sometimes means a more than natural virtue or power attaching
to some person or thing, different from and independent of the
ordinary natural conditions of either, and capable of either increase
or diminution, both from known and unknown causes. The _mana_ of a
priest or _tohunga_ is proved by the truth of his predictions, as well
as the success of his incantations, _which same incantations,
performed by another person, of inferior mana, would have no effect_.
Consequently, this description of _mana_ is a virtue, or more than
natural or ordinary condition attaching to the priest himself, and
which he may become possessed of and also lose without any volition
of his own. When
"Apollo from his shrine,
No longer could divine,
The hollow steep of Delphos sadly leaving,"--
_Then_ the oracle had lost its _mana_.
Then there is the doctor's _mana_. The Maori doctors in the old times
did not deal much in "simples," but they administered large doses of
_mana_. Now when most of a doctor's patients recovered, his _mana_ was
supposed to be in full feather; but if, as will happen sometimes to
the best practitioners, a number of patients should slip through his
fingers _seriatim_, then his _mana_ was suspected to be getting weak,
and he would not be liable to be "knocked up" as frequently as
formerly.
_Mana_ in another sense is the accompaniment of power, but not the
power itself; nor is it even in this sense exactly "authority,"
according to the strict meaning of that word, though it comes very
near it. This is the chief's _mana_. Let him lose the power, and the
_mana_ is gone; but mind you do not translate _mana_ as power; that
won't do: they are two different things entirely. Of this nature also
is the _mana_ of a tribe; but this is not considered to be the
supernatural kind of _mana_.
Then comes the _mana_ of a warrior. Uninterrupted success in war
proves it. It has a _slight_ touch of the supernatural, but not much.
Good fortune comes near the meaning, but is just a little too weak.
The warrior's _mana_ is just a little something more than bare good
fortune; a severe defeat would shake it terribly; two or three in
succession would show that it was gone: but before leaving him, some
supernaturally ominous occurrence might be expected to take place,
such as are said to have happened before the deaths of Julius Caesar,
Marcus Antonius, or Brutus. Let not any one smile at my, even in the
most distant way, comparing the old Maori warriors with these
illustrious Romans, for if they do, I shall answer that some of the
old Maori _Toa_, were thought as much of in _their_ world, as any
Greek or Roman of old was in his; and, moreover, that it is my private
opinion, that if the best of them could only have met my friend
"Lizard Skin," in his best days, and would take off his armour and
fight fair, that the aforesaid "Lizard Skin" would have tickled him to
his heart's content with the point of his spear.
A fortress often assailed but never taken has a _mana_, and one of a
high description too. The name of the fortress becomes a _pepeha_, a
war boast or motto, and a war cry of encouragement or defiance, like
the _slogan_ of the ancient Highlanders in Scotland.
A spear, a club, or a _mere_, may have a _mana_, which in most cases
means that it is a lucky weapon which good fortune attends, if the
bearer minds what he is about; but some weapons of the old times had a
stronger _mana_ than this, like the _mana_ of the enchanted weapons we
read of in old romances or fairy tales. Let any one who likes give an
English word for this kind of _mana_. I have done with it.
I had once a tame pig, which, before heavy rain, would always cut
extraordinary capers and squeak like mad. Every pakeha said he was
"weather-wise;" but all the Maori said it was a "_poaka whai mana_," a
pig possessed of _mana_; _it had more than natural powers_ and could
foretell rain.
If ever this talk about the good old times be printed and published,
and every one buy it, and read it, and quote it, and believe every
word in it, as they ought, seeing that every word is true, then it
will be a _puka puka whai mana_, a book of _mana_; and I shall have a
high opinion of the good sense and good taste of the New Zealand
public.
When the law of England is the law of New Zealand, and the Queen's
writ will run, then both the Queen and the law will have great _mana_;
but I don't think either will ever happen, and so neither will have
any _mana_ of consequence.
If the reader has not some faint notion of _mana_ by this time, I
can't help it; I can't do any better for him. I must confess I have
not pleased myself. Any European language can be translated easily
enough into any other; but to translate Maori into English is much
harder to do than is supposed by those who do it every day with ease,
but who do not know their own language or any other but Maori
perfectly.
I am always blowing up "Young New Zealand," and calling them "reading,
riting, rethmatiking" vagabonds, who will never equal their fathers;
but I mean it all for their own good--(poor things!)--like a father
scolding his children. But one _does_ get vexed sometimes. Their
grandfathers, if they had no backs, had at least good legs, but the
grandsons can't walk a day's journey to save their lives; _they_ must
_ride_. The other day I saw a young chap on a good horse; he had a
black hat and polished Wellingtons; his hat was cocked knowingly to
one side; he was jogging along, with one hand jingling the money in
his pocket; and may I never see another war dance, if the hardened
villain was not whistling "Pop goes the weasel!" What will all this
end in?
My only hope is in a handy way (to give them their due) which they
have with a _tupara_; and this is why I don't think the law will have
much _mana_ here in my time,--I mean the _pakeha_ law; for to say the
worst of them, they are not yet so far demoralized as to stand any
nonsense of that kind, which is a comfort to think of. I am a loyal
subject to Queen Victoria, but I am also a member of a Maori tribe;
and I hope I may never see this country so enslaved and tamed that a
single rascally policeman, with nothing but a bit of paper in his
hand, can come and take a _rangatira_ away from the middle of his
_hapu_, and have him hanged for something of no consequence at all,
except that it is against the law. What would old "Lizard Skin" say to
it? His grandson certainly is now a magistrate, and if anything is
stolen from a pakeha, he will get it back, _if he can_, and won't
stick to it, because he gets a salary in lieu thereof; but he has told
me certain matters in confidence, and which I therefore cannot
disclose. I can only hint there was something said about the law, and
driving the pakeha into the sea.
I must not trust myself to write on these matters. I get so confused,
I feel just as if I was two different persons at the same time.
Sometimes I find myself thinking on the Maori side, and then just
afterwards wondering if "we" can lick the Maori, and set the law upon
its legs, which is the only way to do it. I therefore hope the reader
will make allowance for any little apparent inconsistency in my ideas,
as I really cannot help it.
I belong to both parties, and I don't care a straw which wins; but I
am sure we shall have fighting. Men _must_ fight; or else what are
they made for? Twenty years ago, when I heard military men talking of
"marching through New Zealand with fifty men," I was called a fool
because I said they could not do it with five hundred. Now I am also
thought foolish by civilians, because I say we can conquer New Zealand
with our present available means, if we set the right way about it
(which we won't). So hurrah again for the Maori! We shall drive the
pakeha into the sea, and send the law after them! If we can do it, we
are right; and if the pakeha beat us, _they_ will be right too. God
save the Queen!
So now, my Maori tribe, and also my pakeha countrymen, I shall
conclude this book with good advice; and be sure you take notice; it
is given to _both parties_. It is a sentence from the last speech of
old "Lizard Skin." It is to you both. "Be brave, that you may _live_."
VERBUM SAPIENTI.
HISTORY OF THE WAR IN THE NORTH OF NEW ZEALAND AGAINST
THE CHIEF HEKE, IN THE YEAR 1845;
TOLD BY AN OLD CHIEF OF THE NGAPUHI TRIBE.
PREFACE.
This little tale is an endeavour to call back some shadows from the
past: a picture of things which have left no record but this imperfect
sketch. The old settlers of New Zealand--my fellow pioneers--will, I
hope, recognize the likeness. To those who have more recently sought
these shores, I hope it may be interesting. To all it is respectfully
presented.
HISTORY OF THE WAR IN THE NORTH OF NEW ZEALAND AGAINST THE CHIEF HEKE.
Many years ago, Hongi Ika, the great warrior chief of New Zealand, was
dying.[6] His relations, friends, and tribe were collected around him,
and he then spoke to them in these words: "Children and friends, pay
attention to my last words. After I am gone, be kind to the
missionaries, be kind also to the other Europeans; welcome them to the
shore, trade with them, protect them, and live with them as one
people; but if ever there should land on this shore a people who wear
red garments, who do no work, who neither buy nor sell, and who always
have arms in their hands, then be aware that these are a people called
soldiers, a dangerous people, whose only occupation is war. When you
see them, make war against them. Then, O my children, be brave! then,
O friends, be strong! Be brave that you may not be enslaved, and that
your country may not become the possession of strangers." And having
said these words, he died.
[Footnote 6: Hongi was shot through the body at Mangamuka, in
Hokianga, of which wound he died, after lingering some years. The
speech here given was not spoken on the _day_ of his death, but some
time before, when he saw he could not recover.]
After this, years passed away, and the pakeha increased in numbers,
and were spread over the whole country, and traded with the Maori, and
lived with them, and the Maori were pleased with them, for they got
from them plenty of gunpowder, and tomahawks, and blankets, and all
the wealth of the pakeha became theirs, and there was no fighting
between them, but all lived together as friends.
More years passed away, and then came a chief of the pakeha who we
heard was called a Governor. We were very glad of his arrival, because
we heard he was a great chief, and we thought, he being a great chief,
would have more blankets and tobacco and muskets than any of the other
pakeha people, and that he would often give us plenty of these things
for nothing. The reason we thought so was because all the other pakeha
often made us presents of things of great value, besides what we got
from them by trading. Who would not have thought as we did?
The next thing we heard was, that the Governor was travelling all over
the country with a large piece of paper, asking all the chiefs to
write their names or make marks on it. We heard, also, that the
Ngapuhi chiefs, who had made marks or written on that paper, had been
given tobacco, and flour, and sugar, and many other things, for having
done so.
We all tried to find out the reason why the Governor was so anxious to
get us to make these marks. Some of us thought the Governor wanted to
bewitch all the chiefs,[7] but our pakeha friends laughed at this, and
told us that the people of Europe did not know how to bewitch people.
Some told us one thing, some another. Some said the Governor only
wanted our consent to remain, to be a chief over the pakeha people;
others said he wanted to be chief over both pakeha and Maori. We did
not know what to think, but were all anxious he might come to us soon;
for we were afraid that all his blankets, and tobacco, and other
things would be gone before he came to our part of the country, and
that he would have nothing left to pay us for making our marks on his
paper.
[Footnote 7: The Governor made some presents of no great value to some
of the natives who signed the Treaty of Waitangi, and a report in
consequence got about, as is related here, that he was paying a high
price for signatures. Many suppositions and guesses were made by the
ignorant natives of the part of the country alluded to in the story,
as to what could be the reason he was so desirous to get these names
written on his paper, and many suggested that he had some sinister
design, probably that of _bewitching_ them.]
Well, it was not long before the Governor came, and with him came
other pakeha chiefs, and also people who could speak Maori; so we all
gathered together, chiefs and slaves, women and children, and went to
meet him; and when we met the Governor, the speaker of Maori told us
that if we put our names, or even made any sort of a mark, on that
paper, the Governor would then protect us, and prevent us from being
robbed of our cultivated land, and our timber land, and everything
else which belonged to us. Some of the people were very much alarmed
when they heard this, for they thought that perhaps a great war
expedition was coming against us from some distant country, to destroy
us all; others said he was only trying to frighten us. The speaker of
Maori then went on to tell us certain things, but the meaning of what
he said was so closely concealed we never have found it out.[8] One
thing we understood well, however; for he told us plainly that if we
wrote on the Governor's paper, one of the consequences would be that
great numbers of pakeha would come to this country to trade with us,
that we should have abundance of valuable goods, and that before long
there would be great towns, as large as Kororareka, in every harbour
in the whole island. We were very glad to hear this; for we never
could up to this time get half muskets or gunpowder enough, or
blankets, or tobacco, or axes, or anything. We also believed what the
speaker of Maori told us, because we saw that our old pakeha friends
who came with us to see the Governor believed it.
[Footnote 8: When a native says anything for which he thinks he may at
some future time be called to account, he so wraps his ideas up in
figurative and ambiguous terms as to leave him perfectly free, should
he think fit, to give a directly contrary meaning to that which is
most obvious at the time he speaks. Some natives are very clever at
this, but it often happens that a fellow makes such a bungle of the
business as to leave no meaning at all of any sort. This is what the
narrator of the story means when he says, "the meaning of what the
speaker of Maori said was closely concealed," which is a polite Maori
way of saying that he was talking nonsense.]
After the speaker of Maori had ceased, then Te Tao Nui and some other
chiefs came forward and wrote on the Governor's paper; and Te Tao Nui
went up to the Governor, and took the Governor's hand in his and
licked it! We did not much like this; we all thought it so
undignified. We were very much surprised that a chief such as Te Tao
Nui should do so; but Te Tao Nui is a man who knows a great deal about
the customs of the pakeha; he has been to Port Jackson in a ship, and
he, seeing our surprise, told us that when the great pakeha chiefs go
to see the King or Queen of England they do the same, so we saw then
that it was a straight proceeding. But after Te Tao Nui and other
chiefs had made marks and written on the Governor's paper, the
Governor did not give them anything. We did not like this, so some
other chiefs went forward, and said to the Governor, "Pay us first,
and we will write afterwards." A chief from Omanaia said, "Put money
in my left hand, and I will write my name with my right," and so he
held out his hand to the Governor for the money; but the Governor
shook his head and seemed displeased, and said he would not pay them
for writing on the paper.
Now, when all the people saw this they were very much vexed, and began
to say one to another, "It is wasting our labour coming here to see
this Governor," and the chiefs began to get up and make speeches. One
said, "Come here, Governor; go back to England;" and another said, "I
am Governor in my own country, there shall be no other;" and Paapahia
said, "Remain here and be Governor of this island, and I will go to
England and be King of England, and if the people of England accept me
for their King it will be quite just; otherwise you do not remain
here." Then many other chiefs began to speak, and there was a great
noise and confusion, and the people began to go away, and the paper
was lying there, but there was no one to write on it. The Governor
looked vexed, and his face was very red. At this time some pakehas
went amongst the crowd, and said to them, "You are foolish; the
Governor intends to pay you when all the writing is done, but it is
not proper that he should promise to do so; it would be said you only
wrote your names for pay; this, according to our ideas, would be a
very wrong thing." When we heard this we all began to write as fast as
we could, for we were all very hungry with listening and talking so
long, and we wanted to go to get something to eat, and we were also in
a hurry to see what the Governor was going to give us; and all the
slaves wanted to write their names, so that the Governor might think
they were chiefs, and pay them; but the chiefs would not let them, for
they wanted all the payment for themselves. I and all my family made
our marks, and we then went to get something to eat; but we found our
food not half done, for the women and slaves who should have looked
after the cooking were all mad about the Governor, so when I saw that
the food was not sufficiently done, I was aware that something bad
would come of this business.[9]
[Footnote 9: This is a common native superstition. The natives believe
in omens of a thousand different kinds, and amongst others think it a
very bad omen if, on an occasion when any business of importance is on
hand, the food happens to be served underdone; or before a battle it
is a particularly bad omen.]
Next morning the things came with which the Governor intended to pay
us for writing our names, but there was not much tobacco, and only few
blankets;[10] and when they were divided some of the chiefs had
nothing, others got only a few figs of tobacco, some one blanket,
others two. I got for myself and all my sons, and my two brothers, and
my three wives, only two blankets. I thought it was too little, and
was going to return them, but my brother persuaded me to keep them; so
we got into our canoe to go home, and on the way home we began to say,
"Who shall have the blankets?" And so we began to quarrel about them.
One of my brothers then said, "Let us cut them in pieces, and give
every one a piece." I saw there was going to be a dispute about them,
and said, "Let us send them back." So we went ashore at the house of a
pakeha, and got a pen and some paper, and my son, who could write,
wrote a letter for us all to the Governor, telling him to take back
the blankets, and to cut our names out of the paper, and then my two
brothers and my sons went back and found the Governor in a boat about
to go away. He would not take back the blankets, but he took the
letter. I do not know to this day whether he took our names out of the
paper. It is, however, no matter; what is there in a few black marks?
Who cares anything about them?
[Footnote 10: These presents were given to the natives, and, in their
matter-of-fact manner, understood to be payment for signing the
treaty.]
Well, after this, the Governor died; he was bewitched, as I have
heard, by a _tohunga_ at the South, where he had gone to get names to
his paper; for this was his chief delight, to get plenty of names and
marks on his paper. He may not have been bewitched, as I have heard,
but he certainly died, and the paper with all the names was either
buried with him, or else his relations may have kept it to lament
over, and as a remembrance of him. I don't know. You, who are a
pakeha, know best what became of it; but if it is gone to England, it
will not be right to let it be kept in any place where food is cooked,
or where there are pots or kettles, because there are so many chiefs'
names in it; it is a very sacred piece of paper; it is very good if it
has been buried with the Governor.[11]
[Footnote 11: The Treaty of Waitangi.]
After the first Governor came the second Governor, but the towns and
numerous pakeha traders we expected did not come. We heard of a town
at Waitamata having been built,[12] and others farther South; but in
our part of the country there was no new towns, and the pakeha did
not increase in numbers, but, on the contrary, began to go away to the
town at Waitamata, to be near their chief the Governor, who lived
there, and many of us had no one left to sell anything to as formerly.
Tobacco began to be scarce and dear; the ships began to leave off
coming to Tokerau, Hokianga, and Mangonui. We inquired the reason of
this, but the few pakeha traders left amongst us told us different
stories. Some said that the reason tobacco was scarce and dear was,
because the Governor would not let it be brought on shore until he was
paid a large price for it, besides what was paid to the people of the
ship, who were the right owners of it. This we at first did not
believe, because you all said you were not slaves, not one of you, but
all free men. Others said that the reason ships did not come as
frequently as formerly, was because the Governor made them pay for
coming to anchor in the ports. Some said all the evil was by reason of
the flagstaff which the Governor had caused to be erected at Maiki,
above Kororareka, as a _rahui_, and that as long as it remained there
things would be no better; others again told us the flagstaff was put
there to show the ships the way into the harbour; others, that it was
intended to keep them out; and others said that it was put up as a
sign that this island had been taken by the Queen of England, and that
the nobility and independence of the Maori was no more. But this one
thing at least was true, we had less tobacco and fewer blankets and
other European goods than formerly, and we saw that the first Governor
had not spoken the truth, for he told us we should have a great deal
more. The hearts of the Maori were sad, and our old pakeha friends
looked melancholy, because so few ships came to bring them goods to
trade with. At last we began to think the flagstaff must have
something to do with it, and so Heke went and cut it down.
[Footnote 12: Auckland, the capital of New Zealand.]
When the flagstaff was cut down, there was a great deal of talk about
it, and we expected there would be fighting; but it all ended quietly.
The Governor, however, left off taking money from the people,[13] and
tobacco became cheap, and ships began to come as before, and all our
old pakeha friends were glad, because they had plenty of goods to sell
us, and so we all thought Heke was a man of great understanding. But
the Governor put up the flagstaff again, and when Heke heard this he
came and cut it down again; so this was twice that he cut it down.
[Footnote 13: After the flagstaff had been cut down, the
customs-duties were repealed, and, in consequence, tobacco and other
articles on which duties had been levied became cheaper. This fully
convinced the natives that there was some mysterious connection
between the dearness of different goods and the existence of the
flagstaff, which they now thought was the source of all evils, and
which will account for their determined persistence in cutting it down
so often, at all risks.]
Now, when the Governor heard that Heke had cut down the flagstaff a
second time, he became very angry, because he thought he could never
get any more money from the people, or the ships,[14] so he sent to
England, and to Port Jackson, and everywhere, for soldiers to come to
guard the flagstaff, and to fight with Heke.
[Footnote 14: This was really the belief of the natives at the time; I
have heard it said not once but fifty times. To tell the contrary was
perfectly useless; the flagstaff, and nothing but the flagstaff, was
"the cause of all the evil"--and there were not wanting ill-disposed
Europeans who encouraged this belief, as I think with the purpose to
bring on a war.]
It was not long before the soldiers came, and the flagstaff was put up
again; it was made larger and stronger than before, and pieces of iron
were fastened to it, to prevent its being cut down easily, and a house
was built under it for the soldiers, and the Governor told those
soldiers to remain there always to guard that flagstaff. There were
other soldiers at Kororareka and other places. I don't know how many,
but a great many. This was the first time that Heke began to think of
the last words of Hongi Ika, his relative, when he died at Mawhe. Heke
began to think much on these words, for Heke was now a chief amongst
the Ngapuhi, and he thought to stand in the place of Hongi, as,
indeed, he had a right to do.
Now, these soldiers had red garments; they did not work, or buy and
sell, like the other pakeha people; they practised every day with
their weapons, and some of them were constantly watching as if they
expected to be attacked every moment. They were a very suspicious
people, and they had stiff, hard things round their necks to keep
their heads up, lest they should forget, and look too much downwards,
and not keep their eyes continually rolling about in search of an
enemy.
Great, indeed, was the fear of the Maori when they heard of these
soldiers, for all the pakeha agreed in saying that they would attack
any one their chief ordered them to attack, no matter whether there
was any just cause or not; that they would fight furiously till the
last man was killed, and that nothing could make them run away. Fear
came like a cold fog on all the Ngapuhi, and no chief but Heke had any
courage left. But Heke called together his people, and spoke to them
saying, "I will fight these soldiers, I will cut down the flagstaff, I
will fulfil the last words of Hongi Ika. Be not afraid of these
soldiers, 'all men are _men_.'[15] The soldiers are not gods; lead
will kill them; and if we are beaten at last, we shall be beaten by a
brave and noble people, and need not be ashamed."
[Footnote 15: This is a native saying or proverb, meaning that in fact
one man is as good as another, or that the best or bravest man is
_but_ a man, and therefore not to be too much feared. The speech is a
literal verbatim translation.]
So Heke sent runners to all the divisions of the Ngapuhi, saying,
"Come, stand at my back; the red garment is on the shore. Let us fight
for our country. Remember the last words of Hongi Ika--_Kei hea koutou
kia toa_."
But the chiefs of the Ngapuhi _hapu_ said amongst themselves, "How
long will the fire of the Maori burn before it is extinguished?"
So the Ngapuhi chiefs would not join Heke for fear of the soldiers,
but said, "We will wait till a battle has been fought, and if he is
successful, then we will join him." So Heke, therefore, went with his
own family and people, and those of his elder relation Kawiti, and the
Kapotae, and some others, altogether about 400 men. He went to fight
with the soldiers at Kororareka, and to cut down his old enemy the
flagstaff.
Heke and Kawiti having arrived at Tokerau, and having fixed upon the
day of attack, they agreed that Kawiti should attack the town of
Kororareka, to draw off the attention of the soldiers who guarded the
flagstaff on the hill of Maiki, so that Heke should have an
opportunity to cut it down, for Heke had said that he would cut down
the flagstaff, and he was resolved to make his word true. When they
had formed this plan, and night was come, the priests of the war party
threw darts to divine the event.[16] They threw one for Heke, and one
for the soldiers, and one for the flagstaff: and the dart for Heke
went straight, and fair, and fortunate; but the dart for the soldiers
turned to one side, and fell with the wrong side up; so did that for
the flagstaff. When this was told the people they were very glad, and
had no longer any fear. Then Kawiti, who is himself a _tohunga_, threw
a _rakau_ for his own path--he threw one for himself and people, and
one for the soldiers, and one for the town. The dart for Kawiti went
straight and fair, but it turned wrong side up, which is the omen of
death; and so also did the dart for the soldiers go fair and straight,
but also turned wrong side up. And when Kawiti saw this, he said, "It
is good. Here have I two darts ominous of success, and bravery, and
death--our enemy will prove very strong and brave, they will suffer
much from us, and so will we from them. I am not displeased, for this
is war and not play." Then Heke and Kawiti stood up in the night, and
spoke long and with great spirit to their men, to give them courage;
and when they had done speaking, Kawiti remained where he was near the
sea, not far from the town; but Heke went inland, and before morning
he lay with his men in a hollow close to the flagstaff.
[Footnote 16: Before a war or any other important matter, the natives
used to have recourse to divination, by means of little miniature
darts made of rushes or reeds, or often of the leaf of the cooper's
flag (raupo). This was very much believed in, but of course the chiefs
and priests or _tohunga_ (such of them as did not deceive
_themselves_) could make the result favourable or otherwise as they
liked. There is an allusion to a custom of this kind (divining by
darts) in the Bible.]
Heke lay on the ground with his war party--close at hand were the
sleeping soldiers. Amongst those soldiers there was not one _tohunga_,
not a man at all experienced in omens, or they must have had some
warning that great danger and defeat was near; but there they lay
sleeping between the open jaws of war, and knew of no danger. This is
the only foolishness I see about the pakeha--they are quite ignorant
and inexperienced in omens, and, indeed, care nothing at all about
them.[17]
[Footnote 17: It astonished the natives greatly that the soldiers paid
no attention to omens, and also to see them every five minutes doing
something or another monstrously "unlucky."]
In the morning, before it was light, Kawiti rushed upon Kororareka.
The young men did not look for the light of this world; their only
thought was who should kill the first man, and elevate his name. But
the soldiers met them in the path, and the fight began. Pumuka then
gained a name; he killed the first man of the battle, but had not long
to rejoice, for he himself fell a _mataika_ for the pakeha.[18] Then
the Maori charged to revenge Pumuka; the soldiers met them; the
sailors charged sword in hand; a keen breeze of war was blowing then
on Kororareka! The best men of both sides were in front; the sword met
the tomahawk, and many fell; but of all the braves (_toa_) there, the
chief of the sailors was the bravest; no man could stand up before his
sword, and had he not been struck by a shot, the Maori would have been
defeated--four men like him would have killed Kawiti and all his war
party. This is what I have been told by Kawiti's people who were in
the fight. I did not see it myself, but was at every other fight in
the war.
[Footnote 18: The first man killed in a battle is called the
_mataika_. To kill the _mataika_ is thought a great distinction, and
young men will risk themselves to the utmost to obtain it. Many
quarrels arise sometimes after a fight, in consequence of different
individuals claiming the honour of having killed the first man. The
writer knows a man who in different battles has killed eleven
_mataika_.]
When Kawiti attacked Kororareka, the soldiers at the flagstaff on the
top of Maiki heard the firing, and left the flagstaff, and went
straggling about the hill-side, trying to see what was going on below.
They did not think of Heke or his words when he said he would cut down
the flagstaff, neither did they remember the orders of the Governor.
They were very foolish; for while they were trying to see the fight
between Kawiti and the soldiers and sailors, and thinking, perhaps,
that the Maori did not know how to conduct an ambush, Heke started
from the ground, and before they could turn round the flagstaff and
their fort was taken. Some of them were killed, others ran away, and
then the axes went to work, and the flagstaff was cut down. So this
was the third time it fell, and there it lies now.
During this time, the fighting was still going on at Kororareka; but
at last the Maori drew back, and the pakeha remained in the town. The
Maori were not beaten, neither were the soldiers. Pumuka had been
killed, and many others of Kawiti's people were killed and wounded;
several, also, of the pakeha had been killed, and their great _toa_,
the chief of the sailors, was almost dead. So the words of Kawiti
proved true: both he and his enemy had done bravely, and had equal
success, and both had suffered much.
In the afternoon the Maori began to perceive that the pakeha were
leaving the town, and going on board the ships, so they returned to
the town and began to plunder, and the people of the town plundered
also, so both parties quietly plundered the town of Kororareka, and
did not quarrel with one another. At last, all the town people and
soldiers went on board the ships, and then the ship of war fired at
the Maori people who were plundering in the town. The noise of the
firing of the ship guns was very great, and some of Kawiti's people
were near being hit by the lumps of iron. This was not right, for the
fight was over, and the people were only quietly plundering the town
which had been left for them, and which they had given fair payment
for; but, I suppose, the sailors thought their chief was dying, and
fired a volley (_waipu_) for his sake. So the sailors may have an
argument in their favour; but the Maori did not at the time think of
this, so in revenge they burnt Kororareka, and there was nothing left
but ashes; and this was the beginning of the war.
Well, you pakeha are a noble-minded people; it was very generous of
you to give up Kororareka to be plundered and burnt for _utu_ for the
Maori. If you had been beaten you could not have helped it; but as you
were not beaten, I say it was very noble of you to give up the town.
You are always giving us something, so you gave Kawiti and Heke a town
full of blankets, and tobacco, and money, and all sorts of property,
and rum! It was _very_ good of you. I wish I had been there.
When Kororareka was burnt, and all the Europeans had sailed to the
town at Waitamata, which we now began to hear was called Auckland,
then Heke went to stop at Ahuahu, and the news of the battle was heard
all over the country, and then many men came to join Heke, but no
whole _hapu_ came, for most of the Ngapuhi chiefs said, "Now tens of
thousands of soldiers will come to fight with Heke, and he will be
utterly destroyed." But when all Heke's people were together they were
about 700 men.
Now, when Thomas Walker Nene heard that the war had actually begun,
and that Kororareka had fallen, he called together his family and all
his friends, and said he would fight against Heke, and seek revenge
for his friends the pakeha people. Walker had been always a friend and
protector to the Europeans; and also Hongi Ika, Heke's relation, had
killed in former times Te Tihi, at Hokianga, and swallowed his eyes,
and Te Tihi was a _matua_ (elder relation) to Walker.
And Te Tao Nui came to join Walker, and brought with him all his
family and relations, many fighting men; only one man of his family
did not come--that man went to help Heke. Te Tao Nui had always, like
Walker, been a good friend to the Europeans, and he was also an
ancient enemy of Hongi Ika.
And the tribe of Ngati Pou came to help Walker. Formerly they had been
a great tribe, but Hongi Ika had driven them from their country and
slain most of their warriors; but they in return wounded Hongi, and he
died of that wound some years afterwards. They came to help Walker, in
search of revenge against Hongi Ika, for Heke and Hongi are the same.
This tribe of Ngati Pou brought forty men to help Walker, which was
all left alive by Hongi, but they fought well, for their hatred to
Hongi was great; they fought through the whole war, and never were
absent from any fight. The first man killed in the war between Walker
and Heke was killed by a Ngati Pou, and the first man who fell on our
side was a Ngati Pou, and the last man who fell in the war was also a
Ngati Pou; their chief, Hakaraia, was wounded, and several others of
the forty men were killed.
And all the young men of the Hikutu came to help Walker; they came to
practise war, and elevate their names; but their handsome and brave
young chief, Hauraki, fell at Waikare, for such is the appearance of
war; and many young men came from different tribes (_hapu_) to join
Walker, and to perfect themselves in the practice of war.
And I, your friend, went also with my two younger brothers, my four
sons, and my daughter's husband, and nine cousins (_teina keke_), and
three slaves--twenty men of us, all _tino tangata_, who had seen
war.[19] I went because when the ancestors of Heke fought against
mine, the ancestors of Walker came to help my forefathers, because
they were related to each other; so I and Walker are relations; but I
don't know exactly what the relationship is, for eleven generations
have passed since that ancient war; but Walker and I are aware that we
are related, and always come to each other's help in war.
[Footnote 19: This is a very good example of the manner in which a
native chief raises men for a war party; they are all his _relations_
with their different connections, and it is this which causes the
natives to be so careful to remember all who are, however remotely,
related to them. In a word, to be "a man of many cousins" is to be a
great chief.]
When Walker had got all his men together, they were in number about
500, and he went with them to Okaihau and built a pa, and Heke was at
Te Ahuahu with his men. Te Ahuahu is not far from Okaihau, and there
was fighting between them every day. Several of Walker's relations
were killed, and the brother of Te Tao Nui was also killed, and his
son badly wounded; but in every fight Heke lost most men, and had the
worst of the battle. So Heke sent a messenger to Walker, saying, "If
you go on this way, when the soldiers return there will be no one to
fight them. Who will there be to fight with you, and who to fight the
red garment?" But Walker said, in answer, "I will fight on till I
arrive at the end."
Then the messenger answered Walker, saying, "Behold the soothsayers
foretell your death."
Then arose quickly Karere Horo, our priest, who answered in a loud
voice, saying, "Your soothsayers speak falsely. What sin has Walker
committed that he should die in this war? I myself who now address you
shall die, and many others, but Walker shall live."
Then Heke's messenger, having saluted the people, took his gun and
departed.
Up to this time, no news had been heard from the Governor at
Auckland, and a pakeha came to the camp at Okaihau, and said to
Walker's people, "This is a bad thing you are doing, coming here to
fight with Heke. The Governor when he hears of it will be angry, and
so will the Queen. You are only wasting your powder, and getting
killed for nothing. The Governor will not give you any more gunpowder,
and you will get no pay. Moreover, you are not fighting at all for the
pakeha, or the Queen, you are fighting to revenge Te Tihi." Then
another pakeha who was in the camp, an old friend of Walker, arose and
spoke to the people, and said, "Pay no attention to what has been said
by this man. Both the Governor and the Queen will be well pleased to
hear of your opposing Heke, and so will all the pakeha people. You
will be ever after this looked on as true friends, and the Governor
will give you plenty of gunpowder to replace what you have expended.
Neither is this a war for Te Tihi, but for Kororareka; but if you
remember Te Tihi also, how can you help it?" When we heard this speech
we were encouraged, for we had begun to doubt whether we were doing
right when we heard the speech of the first pakeha.
On this same night the moon was eaten into by a star (eclipsed), and
the light of the moon was quite obscured, and we all thought this an
omen of great disaster to one party or the other in the battle to take
place next morning. The fight, however, in the morning was no great
matter; of Heke's people there were three killed and twenty wounded;
and eleven of our men were wounded, but none killed.
Walker's old pakeha friends gave him gunpowder, and rifles, and other
things, to enable him to fight Heke; and some of them came and stayed
at the camp, and fought amongst his men, to show him that he was right
in what he was doing, for Walker had not yet had any word from the
Governor, and was only fighting on his own thought.
Shortly after this, a letter came from the Governor, and with it the
Governor sent gunpowder, and lead, and blankets, and flour, and sugar,
and tobacco; so we saw then clearly that we were doing right. But
there was only one letter for both Walker and Te Tao Nui; so Te Tao
Nui was angry at this, for he thought there should have been a letter
entirely for himself, and he said he would leave the camp with all his
men. He had more men, at that time, than Walker; but, however, he
remained, and helped Walker to the last. After this, news came
frequently from Auckland, and before long we heard that the soldiers
were coming.
When Heke's people heard that the soldiers were coming, most of them
left him, and there remained but 200 men. Then Heke left Te Ahuahu,
and came and built a pa not far from Taumata Tutu, on the clear ground
by the lake; for he said he would fight the soldiers on the spot where
the last words of Hongi Ika had been spoken. The name of this pa of
Heke's was Te Kahika.
Now, when this new fort of Heke's was finished, the spirit of the
Ngakahi entered into the _atua wera_, who is the greatest _tohunga_ in
all the country of the Ngapuhi. So the Ngakahi spoke in the night to
Heke and his people, by the mouth of the _atua wera_, "Be brave, and
strong, and patient. Fear not the soldiers, they will not be able to
take this fort--neither be you afraid of all those different kinds of
big guns you have heard so much talk of. I will turn aside the shot,
and they shall do you no harm; but this pa and its defenders must be
made sacred (_tapu_). You must particularly observe all the sacred
rites and customs of your ancestors; if you neglect this in the
smallest particular, evil will befall you, and I also shall desert
you. You who pray to the God of the missionaries, continue to do so,
and in your praying see you make no mistakes. Fight and pray. Touch
not the spoils of the slain, abstain from human flesh, lest the
European God should be angry, and be careful not to offend the Maori
gods. It is good to have more than one God to trust to. This war party
must be strictly sacred. Be brave, be strong, be patient."[20]
[Footnote 20: This is word for word a literal translation of the
speech of the _atua wera_ to Heke's men. He was, however, supposed
only to speak the words of the _Ngakahi_ by whom he was at the moment
inspired.]
So Heke waited there at his fort at Mawhe, near Taumata Tutu, for the
coming of the soldiers; and before long they arrived at Walker's camp
at Okaihau, which was but a short distance from where Heke was. When
these soldiers arrived they were very much fatigued, and quite without
provisions, and not at all fit to go to fight. They had been two
nights on the road, one of which nights they lay out in the rain, and
they had but a small quantity of ammunition. They had come by a long,
bad road, up and down hill, though there was a good road open to them;
and they were quite worn out, and not fit to fight at all. What could
be the reason that the pakeha who knew the country did not tell the
soldiers to come up the Keri Keri in boats, and then along the cart
road to the turn-off to Okaihau? If they had done this, they could
have brought big guns in the boats, and provisions, and put them in
carts at the Keri Keri, and come along the cart road till they were
not far from Walker's camp. If they had done this, the big guns would
have knocked down the pa, for it was a very weak one, and it would
have been taken, and the war would have ended; for it was because this
very weak pa was not taken that the Maori kept on fighting, and caused
so many men afterwards to be killed on both sides. Heke certainly had
many friends amongst the Europeans, as why should he not?
But the soldiers had with them a light gun, called a rocket, and this
gun had a great name: it was said that it would go into the pa, and
twist and turn about in pursuit of the people until it had killed them
every one. When we heard this we were sorry for Heke and his people,
and were in great fear for ourselves lest it should turn round upon us
also.
When the soldiers had rested one night at Okaihau, they prepared to
attack Heke's pa; but early in the morning, when they were getting
something to eat, we observed many of them eating standing up; this
gave us a good deal of uneasiness, for it has an unlucky look to see
warriors before going to battle eating their food standing. They
should sit down and eat quietly, as if nothing was going to happen out
of common; but, as I have said before, the soldiers are very
inexperienced in these matters. When they had done eating, they formed
to march to attack Heke. What a fine-looking people these soldiers
are! Fine, tall, handsome people; they all look like chiefs; and their
advance is like the advance of a flight of curlew in the air, so
orderly and straight. And along with the soldiers came the sailors;
they are of a different family, and not at all related to the
soldiers,[21] but they are a brave people, and they came to seek
revenge for the relations they had lost in the fight at Kororareka.
They had different clothes from the soldiers, and short guns, and long
heavy swords; they were a people who talked and laughed more than the
soldiers, and they flourished their guns about as they advanced, and
ate tobacco.
[Footnote 21: That the sailors were quite a different _hapu_, though
belonging to the _iwi_ of England, and in no way "related" to the
soldiers, I have heard often stated by the natives, as well as by the
narrator of this story. Neither will we wonder at their having jumped
at this conclusion, after having compared "Jack," let loose for a run
on shore, with the orderly soldiers. I will here take occasion to
state that I shall not hold myself accountable for the many mistakes
and misapprehensions of my old friend the Ngapuhi chief, when he
speaks of us, our manners, customs, and motives of action; when he
merely recounts the events and incidents of the war, he is to be fully
depended on, being both correct and minutely particular in his
relation, after the native manner of telling a story, to omit
_nothing_. I have had, indeed, to leave out a whole volume of minute
particulars, such as this for instance: where a _pakeha_ would simply
say, "we started in the morning after breakfast," &c., the native
would say, "in the morning the ovens were heated, and the food was put
in and covered up; when it was cooked it was taken out, and we eat it,
and finished eating, then we got up and started," &c. In the course of
the narration I have translated, I have had to listen to the above
_formula_ about fifty times; the lighting of a pipe and the smoking
it, or the seeing a wild pig (describing size and colour, &c.), is
never omitted, no matter if it is five seconds before commencing a
battle. This is the true native way of telling a story, and it is even
now a wonder to them to see how soon a European tells the story of a
journey, or voyage, or any event whatever. If a native goes on a
journey of three days' duration, during which nothing whatever of any
consequence may have occurred, it will take him at least one whole day
to tell _all_ about it, and he is greatly annoyed at the impatient
pakeha who wants to get the upshot of the whole story by impertinently
saying, "Did you get what you went for?" To tell _that_ too soon would
be out of all rule; every foot of the way must be gone over with every
incident, however trivial, before the end is arrived at. They are
beginning now to find that in talking to Europeans they must leave out
one half at least of a story to save time, but the old men _can't_
help making the most of a chance of talking. To cut a story short
seems to them a _waste of words_ by _not_ speaking them, while we
think it a decided waste of words _to_ speak them. In old times the
natives had so few subjects for conversation that they _made the most_
of what they had, which accounts for their verbosity in trifling
matters.]
So the soldiers, sailors, and other Europeans advanced to the attack
of Heke's pa, and with them came also Walker and his men; but before
we had gone far, we observed the soldiers carrying on their shoulders
certain things made of cloth and wood; these things were rolled up,
and we did not know the use of them, so we asked what they were, and
were told they were _kauhoa_ on which to carry the dead or wounded!
This was the worst of all; there were those soldiers going to battle,
and actually carrying on their shoulders things to put themselves on
when they were dead! So we began to say one to another, "Those
soldiers walking there are all dead men. It only wants a few guns to
be fired, and they will be all killed." So some of the chiefs told
some of the chiefs of the soldiers what a dreadfully unlucky thing
they were doing, but they all laughed, and said that they came there
to fight, and that whenever people fought some one was sure to be
killed or wounded, and that it was right to have something to carry
them on. But our people said it was time enough to think of carrying a
man when he could not stand, and that by what they were doing they
were _calling_ for death and destruction; and they tried hard to get
the soldiers to throw away these things, but the soldiers would not
listen to them. So we all said, "This is not a war party here marching
on this plain, but a _mate_" (a funeral procession); so all the Maori
left the soldiers, and went and sat on the top of the hill called
Taumata Kakaramu, except about forty men, Walker's relations, who
would not leave him. We felt sorry for the soldiers; but we said, "Let
them fight their own battle to-day, and if they are successful we
will help them in every other fight." But no one could believe they
would be successful.
At last the soldiers and sailors got before Heke's pa; the main body
of the soldiers remained opposite to it, at the side next to Walker's
camp--the rest, about one hundred men, sailors and soldiers, went
round by the shore of the lake, which was on the right of the pa, and
so got behind it; and on that side there was but one slight fence, and
no _pekerangi_.[22] The soldiers had told us in the morning that they
would rush on both sides of the pa at once, and that it would be taken
in a moment, and that then they would come home to breakfast.
[Footnote 22: Heke's pa at the lake, the first we ever attacked, was
the weakest ever built by the natives in the war. Had it not been for
Kawiti's appearance just at the moment the storming party were about
to advance, and thus making a diversion, it would most certainly have
been taken, and as certain all its defenders killed or taken
prisoners; for if the soldiers had entered _then_, the friendly
natives, who were outside in great numbers, would have prevented any
escaping. As it turned out, however, the place was not taken, and this
gave the natives courage to continue the war, in the course of which
they acquired so much confidence, that now they think less of fighting
Europeans, and are less afraid of them, than of their own countrymen.]
So now the soldiers were in front of the pa, and also behind it; and
on the right was the lake, and on the left was Walker with about forty
men, and behind Walker there was a wood--he was between the wood and
the pa.
Then the soldiers who had the rocket gun went a little to the left
front of the pa, and set the gun upon its legs, and pointed it
straight at the pa. Then all the people on the top of Taumata Kakaramu
fixed their eyes on this gun. We watched it closely, and held our
breath, and had great fear for the people in the pa--for they were,
although against us, all Ngapuhi, the same _iwi_ as ourselves, and
many of them our near relations--and we never expected to see them
more by reason of this gun, we had heard so much of it. At last, a
great smoke was seen to issue from one end of the gun, and the rocket
came out of the other. At first it did not go very fast, but it had
not gone far before it began to flame, and roar, and dart straight
towards the pa. It had a supernatural appearance, and rushed upon the
pa like a falling star; but just as it was about to enter the pa it
swerved from its course, touched the ground outside, and then rose and
flew away over the pa, without doing any harm, and no one could tell
where that first rocket went to, for it was the _Ngakahi_, the
familiar spirit of the _atua wera_, who had blown upon it with his
breath and turned it away, according to his word when he spoke by the
mouth of the _tohunga_; for up to this time Heke and his people had
kept strictly all the sacred customs, and infringed none of them. So
the _Ngakahi_ remained guarding them from all danger.
When we saw that the first rocket had gone by the pa and done no harm,
we all gave a great sigh, and our minds were eased; a second rocket
was fired, and a third, and so till they were all gone, but not one
did any harm, for the _Ngakahi_ had turned them all away--not one
entered the pa.
Now, before the first rocket was fired, Heke came out of the front
gate of the pa to watch the effect of the rocket, and he stood outside
praying a Maori prayer, and holding with one hand to a post of the
fence. Then the first rocket was fired; it came very near him, and
passed away without doing any harm. Then another was fired, and missed
also; so when Heke saw this, he cried out in a loud voice, "What prize
can be won by such a gun?"[23] and this has become a saying amongst us
from that day; for whenever we hear a man boasting of what he can do,
we think of the rocket, and cry, "What prize can be won by such a
gun?"
[Footnote 23: "_E aha te kai e pahure i aia._" My translation is not
very literal; a literal translation would not give the sense to the
reader not acquainted with the Maori language; my free translation
gives it exactly.]
When the first rocket was fired it frightened all the dogs in the pa,
and they ran barking away over the plain; and also one slave ran out
of the pa. He was very much frightened, and he ran away by a path
which went between the hundred soldiers and sailors who were behind
the pa, and Walker's people, who were at the left side of it; and this
slave never stopped running till he came to a place called Kai Namu,
where Kawiti, who had marched all night to relieve Heke, had just
arrived. And this slave ran up to Kawiti and his people, and began to
cry out, "Oh, the soldiers have a frightful gun; it comes roaring and
flaming." Here Kawiti stopped him, and said, "I know all about all
sorts of guns; all guns will kill, and all guns will also miss; this
is the nature (_ahua_) of guns; but if you say one word more, I will
split your head with my tomahawk." So the slave became more afraid of
Kawiti than he was of the rocket, and he ran away back to Heke, and
told him that Kawiti with help was close at hand.
When all the rockets had been fired, then the hundred men, soldiers
and sailors, who were at the back of the pa, arose out of an old Maori
_pare pare_, where they had been sheltered, and giving a great shout,
turned to rush against the pa. Then Heke shouted to his men, "Now let
every man defend the spot he stands on, and think of no other; and I,
on my side, will look to the great fish which lies extended on our
front."[24] And as Heke was saying this, the soldiers and sailors had
begun to move towards the pa, when suddenly Kawiti with one hundred
and forty men appeared close upon their right, and fired upon them.
Then the soldiers turned quickly to the right and attacked Kawiti;
they were close to each other, and some fought hand to hand. The
soldiers, then, were pressed back, and forced to give way before the
rush of Kawiti and his men; but soon they rallied to the call of their
chiefs, and charged with the bayonet, and then a close fight ensued,
in which twenty of Kawiti's men were slain, and many wounded. Several
of them were chiefs, and among them was one of Kawiti's sons, being
the second son he had lost in the war; the other fell at Kororareka.
Kawiti's men then retreated, and the soldiers chased them as far as
the path in the hollow, which leads to Ahuahu, and there the last
Maori was killed by the foremost soldier. There is a stone placed
there where that Maori fell, and close to that stone by the side of
the path the soldier is also buried, for a shot from the pa struck
him, and he fell there. He was a great _toa_, that soldier; in this
fight whenever he pointed his gun a man fell, and he ran so fast in
pursuit that there was no escape from him; but he fell there--for such
is the appearance of war. The musket is a bad weapon, the worst of all
weapons; for let a man be as brave as he may, he cannot stand up
before it long. Great chiefs are killed from a distance by no one
knows who, and the strength of a warrior is useless against it.
[Footnote 24: The natives often call a line or column of men a fish,
and this term is just as well understood as our "column," "company,"
"battalion," &c. I will here say that though the native language is,
as might be supposed, extremely deficient in terms of art or science
in general, yet it is quite copious in terms relating to the art of
war. There is a Maori word for almost every infantry movement and
formation. I have also been very much surprised to find that a native
can, in terms well understood, and without any hesitation, give a
description of a fortification of a very complicated and scientific
kind, having set technical terms for every part of the
whole--"curtain, bastion, trench, hollow way, traverse, outworks,
citadel," &c. &c., being all well-known Maori words, which every boy
knows the full meaning of.]
As the soldiers chased Kawiti, the pa fired on them from the left, so
that they had Kawiti in front and the pa on the left, both firing,
and therefore lost many men; but having beaten Kawiti off, they
returned and took shelter in the Maori breastwork, and began again to
fire at the pa. So they fired, and the pa returned the fire, and the
main body of the soldiers who were at the front of the pa fired. Lead
whistled through the air in all directions, the whole country seemed
on fire, and brave men worked their work. Then Tupori, a chief who was
in the pa with Heke, saw that Kawiti had elevated his name, for he had
fought the soldiers hand to hand twice--once at Kororareka, and once
on this day; and seeing this, Tupori wished also to do something to
make his name heard; he therefore cried out for only twenty men to
follow him, and he would charge the soldiers. Then twenty men rushed
out of the pa with Tupori; they ran straight up the hill to the
breastwork, the soldiers firing on them all the time, but without
hitting one man. So Tupori and his twenty men came quite up to the
breastwork, and stood upon the top of the bank, and fired their
double-barrel guns in the soldiers' faces, and drove them out of the
breastwork. The soldiers retreated a short distance, and Tupori and
his people began collecting the bundles of cartridges which the
soldiers had left behind; and while they were doing this, the soldiers
suddenly came rushing upon them. Their charge was very grand, and
terrible to look at. They came rushing on in great anger, shouting and
_cursing_ at the Maori. So Tupori and his men ran away to the pa, and
as they ran the soldiers fired at their backs, and killed two men,
and wounded Tupori in the leg. The rest got safe into the pa, and took
Tupori and the two dead men along with them. Great is the courage of
Tupori! he has made his name heard as that of a _toa_. But it was not
right for the soldiers to curse the Maori, for up to this time nothing
wrong had been done on either side, and so the Maori were much
surprised to hear the soldiers cursing and swearing at them.
After this the soldiers fired at the pa all day, but only killed three
men, besides the two men killed in the charge of Tupori; these five
men were all killed belonging to the pa that day. When it was near
night, the soldiers went back to Walker's camp at Okaihau, taking with
them their wounded, and also two or three dead; but about ten dead
were left behind at Taumata Tutu, where they fell in the fight with
Kawiti.
So Heke remained in possession of the battle plain (_te papa_), and
his pa was not taken, and he buried the dead of the soldiers. But one
soldier who had been wounded, and left behind by the side of the lake,
was found next morning by two slaves, and they pretended they were
friends, and got his gun from him, and then they took him to the lake
and held his head under water till he was dead.
Next morning after the battle the soldiers returned to the Keri Keri,
and Walker went with his people to help them to carry the wounded. And
Hauraki, the young chief of the Hikutu, went also with thirteen of his
people to assist in carrying the wounded soldiers; but the rest of
his tribe, being one hundred men, remained behind at Okaihau, for it
was not expected there would be any more fighting for some days. But
when the soldiers and Walker's people came to the Keri Keri, the Maori
chiefs of Walker's party talked of attacking the Kapotai at Waikare,
in the Bay of Islands, because they were allies of Kawiti; so they
went and told their minds to the chiefs of the soldiers, who agreed to
do so, for they were angry at not having been able to take Heke's pa
at Taumata Tutu.
So when the soldiers and Walker's people came to the Bay of Islands,
they each separated a party to attack the Kapotai. They went up the
Waikare river in the night in canoes and boats, with great precaution,
hoping to surprise the Kapotai, and so to revenge their dead who had
fallen at Taumata Tutu; but before they got near to the pa, the wild
ducks in the river started up and flew over the pa, which alarmed the
Kapotai, and caused them to suspect that an enemy was coming up the
river, so they took arms and watched for the approach of the war
party. And soon the soldiers were near, but it was not yet daylight.
Then the men of the Kapotai called out, "If you are Maori warriors who
come in the night, come on, we will give you battle; but if you are
soldiers, here is our pa, we give it you." They soon discovered the
soldiers, and then they went out at the back of the pa, and left it
for the soldiers to plunder, as payment for Kororareka, which was very
right. So the soldiers and Walker's Maori plundered the pa of the
Kapotai, and killed all the pigs.
After the Kapotai pa had been plundered and burnt, Walker and his men
went in pursuit of the Kapotai, who had retreated into the forest, but
the soldiers remained behind on the clear ground near the pa. Walker,
Mohi, and Repa went into the woods with three hundred men, followed
the Kapotai, and overtook them. When the Kapotai perceived they were
followed, their anger was very great, so they turned, and fought with
great courage against Walker. Walker was not able to beat them, so
they remained a long time fighting in the forest. But Hauraki, the
young Hikutu chief, had, with his thirteen men, taken another path,
and he met the young chief of the Kopatai, who had with him sixty men,
and they were both young men and fighting for a name, so a desperate
fight commenced. Hauraki and his thirteen men thought not of the light
of the sun or the number of the enemy; their only thought was of war,
and to elevate their names. It was a close fight, and whenever the
rifle of Hauraki was heard a man fell, and soon he had killed or
wounded several of the Kapotai, who began to fall back. Then Hauraki
cried out to the retreating Kapotai, "Fly away on the wings of the
wood-pigeon, and feed on the berries of the wood, for I have taken
your land." Then a certain slave of the Kapotai said, "That is
Hauraki, a very noble born man. He is a chief of Te Hikutu, and of Te
Rarawa, and of Te Ngati Kuri." Now when Hari the young Kapotai chief
heard this, he cried aloud to Hauraki, saying, "Swim you away on the
backs of the fish of the sea,[25] there is no land for you here."
Then these two young warriors drew nearer to each other. Hauraki had
just loaded his rifle, but the caps which he had were too small, and
he was a long time trying to put on the cap. While he was doing this,
Hari fired at him, and the ball struck him on the breast and passed
out at his back; but so great was his strength and courage that he did
not fall, but took another cap and fixed it, and then fired at the
Kapotai chief, and the ball struck him on the side under the arm-pit,
and went out at the other arm-pit. So Hari staggered and fell dead.
When Hauraki saw this, he said, "I die not unrevenged," and then sank
gently to the ground. His people then seeing this, two of them led him
away towards the rear. The Kapotai also carried away their chief, and
then, enraged at his death, rushed upon the Hikutu, who were now only
eight in number, the rest having been killed or wounded. These eight
were _tino tangata_ (practised warriors), but were too few in number,
and had lost their chief; so when the Kapotai rushed upon them, they
lost heart and fled, and the Kapotai chased them, and soon the
foremost of the flying Hikutu overtook Hauraki and the two men who
were leading him off. Then Hauraki said, "Do not remain with me to
die, but hide me in the fern and escape yourselves, and go to my
relation Walker, and tell him to muster all his people, and come and
carry me off." So they all pressed their noses to the nose of
Hauraki, one after another. And tears fell fast, and the balls from
the guns of the Kapotai whistled round their heads, so while some
returned the fire of the enemy, others hid Hauraki in the long fern.
When this was done, they all fled, and escaped with great difficulty;
for while they were hiding Hauraki the Kapotai had surrounded them,
and they would never have escaped at all but for the great courage of
Kaipo and Te Pake, Hauraki's cousins, who broke through the Kapotai,
and opened a way for the rest.
[Footnote 25: In allusion to the fact of the war party having come by
water.]
Now, when Hauraki's eight men got on the clear ground, they found that
the soldiers were getting into the boats to go away, and Walker, Mohi,
and Repa had just come out of the forest from fighting with the
Kapotai, and Hauraki's cousins ran to Walker, and said "Our friend[26]
is left behind wounded in the forest, and likely to be taken by the
Kapotai." Then Walker was very much dismayed when he heard this, and
he and Mohi ran to the chiefs of the soldiers and desired them to
remain for a short time till he should rescue Hauraki, but the
soldiers could not understand what Walker meant, for the speaker of
Maori (the interpreter to the force) had already gone away in one of
the boats, and there was a great confusion, every one trying to get
away, and Walker's men were also getting into their canoes and going
away, and boats and canoes were running foul of each other, and the
creek was choked with them. Then came the Kapotai in great force with
their allies out of the forest, and commenced firing on the departing
_taua_ from a distance of about two hundred fathoms, so the soldiers
and Walker got away and returned to Kororareka, and left Hauraki lying
alone in the forest, for their bellies were full of fighting. So he
lay there till midnight, and the night was cold and wet, and he kept
continually thinking what a disgrace it would be to his family if he
should be taken alive.[27] And as he lay thus, he saw[28] the spirit
of the greatest warrior of all his ancestors, who said to him, "Arise!
Shall my descendant be taken alive?" Then Hauraki said, "I am a mere
man, not like unto my ancestors, half god and half man."[29] Then the
spirit said, "In the mind is the strength of the body. Arise!" So
Hauraki arose, and travelled a long way in the night till he found a
small canoe by the river side; then he pulled down the river towards
the Bay of Islands till the canoe upset; then he swam on shore, and
when he got to the shore he was almost dead; but near to where he
landed was the house of a pakeha, and the mother of this pakeha was
Hauraki's cousin, so that pakeha took him and concealed him in the
house, and took care of him, and before the middle of the day a party
of Walker's men arrived there in search of him. So they took him to
the Bay of Islands, and the doctors of the soldiers did what they
could to cure him, but without success. So his tribe, who had arrived
at Okaihau, carried him home to his own place at Hokianga, where he
died.
[Footnote 26: The natives when speaking to each other seldom mention
their chief except as "our friend," or, if he be an old man, as "our
leader." Speaking to Europeans, however, they often say our
_rangatira_, that having become the only word in use among the
Europeans to signify the chief of a tribe, though it may also mean
many other ranks, according as it is applied.]
[Footnote 27: That weakness is crime with the natives is a fact, and
in consequence the disgrace of being taken prisoner of war degrades a
native as much as with us it would degrade a man to be convicted of
felony. I have heard two natives quarrelling when one called the other
"slave," because his great-grandfather had been once made prisoner of
war. The other could not deny the traditional fact, and looked
amazingly chop-fallen. He, however, tried to soften the blow by
stating that even if his ancestor _had_ been made prisoner, it was by
a section of _his own_ tribe, and consequently by his own _relations_
he was defeated. Thus endeavouring to make a "family affair" of it.]
[Footnote 28: Poor Hauraki was no doubt delirious from the effects of
his wound, and no doubt thought he saw the vision he recounted when
his people found him.]
[Footnote 29: One of the ancestors of Hauraki, according to a
tradition of the Rarawa, hearing, even in the _Reinga_ (the Maori
Hades), of the warlike renown of one of his sons, became jealous of
his fame, and returned to this world. Emerging from amongst the waves
at Ahipara, on the west coast, where his son lived, he challenged him
to single combat. At the first onset the son had the worst. Then the
father said, "Had you been equal to your ancestors I would have
remained here as your companion in arms; but you are degenerate and a
mere man. I return to the _Reinga_, to be with the heroes of the olden
time." He then disappeared in the waves.]
When Hauraki died, and his body lay at Wirinake to be seen for the
last time by his relations, there was a great gathering of the Rarawa
and Ngapuhi, to fulfil the last rights due to a chief. And when the
_pihe_ had been sung,[30] then the chiefs arose one after another to
speak in praise of the dead. This was the speech of Te Anu, he who is
known as having been in his youth the best spearman of all the Ngapuhi
tribes. Bounding to and fro before the corpse, with his famous spear
in hand, he spoke as follows: "Farewell, Hauraki! go, taking with you
your kindness and hospitality, your generosity and valour, and leave
none behind who can fill your place. Your death was noble; you
revenged yourself with your own hand; you saved yourself without the
help of any man. Your life was short; but so it is with heroes.
Farewell, O Hauraki, farewell." At this time it was night, and the
sister and also the young wife of Hauraki went in the dark and sat
beside the river. They sat weeping silently, and spinning a cord
wherewith to strangle themselves. The flax was wet with their tears.
And as they did this the moon arose. So when the sister of Hauraki saw
the rising moon, she broke silence, and lamented aloud, and this was
her lament--the part I remember of it:--
It is well with thee, O moon! You return from death,
Spreading your light on the little waves. Men say,
"Behold the moon re-appears;"
But the dead of this world return no more.
Grief and pain spring up in my heart as from a fountain.
I hasten to death for relief.
Oh, that I might eat those numerous soothsayers
Who could not foretell his death.
Oh, that I might eat the Governor,
For his was the war!
[Footnote 30: The _pihe_ is a funeral chant sung standing before the
dead. It is a very curious composition, and of great antiquity, having
been composed long before the natives came to this country. Part of
the language is obsolete. It has allusions which point in a remarkable
manner to the origin of the natives, and from whence they have come.
They do not themselves understand these allusions, but they are clear
enough to any person who has taken the trouble to trace the race from
which they are derived through the Pacific Islands, far into north
latitude, next into Asia, and to observe the gradual modifications of
language and tradition occasioned by time and change of abode.]
At this time men came who were in search of these women, and prevented
the sister of Hauraki from killing herself at that time. They watched
her for several days, but she died of grief. But the wife of Hauraki
consented to live that she might rear her son, so that he might fight
with the Kapotai on a future day. So she called his name Maiki, which
is the name of the hill on which stood the flagstaff, the cutting down
of which was the cause of the war. He was, therefore, called by this
name, that he might always be reminded of his father's death.
The lament of the sister of Hauraki was sung by all the divisions of
all the Ngapuhi, from the west coast to Tokerau. And when Walker heard
it he was displeased, and said, "It is wrong to sing about eating the
Governor, for soon people who do not know the song well will make
mistakes, and sing, 'Oh, that I might eat Heke,' which would be the
worst of all. As for the priests or soothsayers, it is no matter; they
are all a set of fools." So now when people sing that lament, they
only say, "Oh, that I might eat the numerous priests" (_tini
tohunga_).
So Hauraki was taken to Te Ramaroa, a cave in the mountains, behind
Wirinake, where his ancestors are buried, and then three hundred men
of Te Hikutu, Natikuri, Te Rarawa, and Walker's people armed, and
entered the country of the Kapotai, to fire powder in remembrance of
Hauraki[31] (_paura mamae_.) They destroyed the cultivations, and got
much plunder; but the Kapotai retired to the forest, and would not
fight, for they knew this was a war party of the tribe of Hauraki, who
came bearing the weapons of grief (_patu mamae_), and, therefore, they
would not fight. So the _taua_ came to the spot where Hauraki had
fallen, and there fired many volleys of musketry in honour of the
dead, and then returned unmolested to their own country. The behaviour
of the Kapotai in this matter was correct. We all know that it was not
fear that prevented them from attacking us; they respected the grief
of the people and relations of Hauraki, and made way before them,
which was a noble thought (_whakaaro rangatira_).
[Footnote 31: It is a native custom, when any chief of importance has
been killed in fair fight, for his friends to form a party and enter
even the enemy's country, should he have fallen there, and fire some
volleys in his honour on the spot where he fell. This they call _paura
mamae_--powder of pain or grief. They, of course, do it at the risk of
being attacked, but the natives often allow the custom to be fulfilled
without molesting the party, although a party of this kind always
plunder and ravage all before them.]
When Heke heard of the death of Hauraki, he said, "Now, if I am slain
in this war, it matters not, for there is no greater Ngapuhi Chief
than Hauraki." What Heke said was true; but he said it to please Te
Hikutu, for Heke is a man of many thoughts.
At this same time, Te Tao Nui, who was at Okaihau, heard that most of
Heke's men had gone from Te Ahuahu to Ohaeawae to kill cattle for
food; for by this time Heke had abandoned his pa, near Taumata Tutu,
which the soldiers had attacked, and gone to another fort of his at Te
Ahuahu, to be near the cultivations. So Te Tao Nui took sixty men, and
went on a dark rainy night and took the pa at the Ahuahu by surprise,
and the people in it only fired two shots and fled. So Te Tao Nui
remained in possession of Heke's fort at the Ahuahu, and all Heke's
provision fell into his hands, and also the road to Ohaeawae was
opened, for this fort was on the path. Then Walker abandoned his camp
at Okaihau and joined Te Tao Nui in Heke's pa, and as they found there
plenty of provisions, they determined to remain there till the
soldiers should return again from Auckland.
But Heke was very much enraged to see his fort and provisions thus
snatched from him, and he determined to retake it before the soldiers
should return from Auckland to help Walker. So he sent messengers to
all parts of the country where he had friends, and to the old chiefs
who were still alive who had been companions of the great Hongi in the
old wars. And they came, and with them came Te Kahakaha, he who had
been Hongi's chosen friend. He had seen more battles than any man now
alive, and was a very brave and experienced leader. He came to assist
Heke, and to show him how his fathers had fought.
When Heke's war party had assembled, they were, in number, about eight
hundred men; and, after having rested a few days at Ohaeawae, they
marched before daylight to attack Walker and Te Tao Nui at Te Ahuahu,
and to retake Heke's pa. Walker, Tao Nui, Moses, and Wi Repa, with his
two brothers, were the principal chiefs of Walker's party at this
time, and they had with them only about three hundred men, for many of
Walker's friends had returned to Hokianga, to fetch pork and other
provisions, for they did not expect to be attacked so soon.