the pa of Walker to pick up sticks for firewood. And there was a thick
fog lying close to the ground; and before the old woman had gone far
she saw a black line of something coming out of a cloud of fog, and as
she was wondering what this might be, she suddenly perceived that it
was a _taua_ of armed men, and they had got within fifty fathoms of
the pa,[32] so she cried aloud the cry of alarm--_Te Whakaariki e! Te
Whakaariki e!_--and instantly the people in the pa were alarmed,
started from sleep, and with their arms in their hands rushed
hurriedly to defend the gates. Then Walker called out to Te Tao Nui,
"Remain you here and defend our pa, and I will go out and fight." Then
Walker and his people rushed against the enemy. And when they were
doing this, another party of the enemy appeared at the opposite side
of the pa. Of this party the old chief Te Kahakaha was the leader.
Then, when Te Tao Nui saw this division and their numbers, which were
great, he said--"Now we have the enemy in full view; there are no more
of them in concealment." So he opened the gates on his side of the pa,
and rushed out with his people, and called out to charge. So Walker
charged at one side of the pa, and Tao Nui and his people on the
other. Walker being opposed to Heke, and Tao Nui to Te Kahakaha, the
fight began, and this was the greatest battle in the war. The best men
of both parties were there, and Heke was very desirous to destroy
Walker in one great fight before the soldiers should return; and
Walker, on his side, wished to show that he could fight Heke without
the aid of the soldiers. So now Walker charged Heke, and Heke fired
like thunder against Walker. I, your friend, was there! and as we
rushed on, Karere Horo was killed (he was our mad priest); and Taketu
was killed, and Te Turi, and Hangarau, and about nine others; and
Takare had both his eyes shot out, and Wi Repa and his brother, and
Hakaraia, the chief of the Ngati Pou, and a great many others, were
wounded. By the time all these people were killed or wounded, we were
close up to Heke's people, and began to fire. Heke's men being so
near, and standing too close together, we did not miss them; we had
revenge for our friends who had fallen. We pressed Heke hard. Not one
of us remembered the light of this world, nor thought of life. Then
the enemy began to fall back, and we followed them close till we came
to a hill side, where they turned and charged us. But we fell back a
little then, and got behind the stone wall of a kumera field, and
fired at them from behind the low wall, and drove them back, having
killed and wounded several. They then returned to the hill-side, and
began firing at us from about fifty fathoms' distance; but we were
sheltered by the low stone wall. Then we heard Heke shouting out to
charge us again, and so down they came upon us again. They greatly
outnumbered us, and the sound of their feet as they rushed on was like
the noise of a waterfall. We fully expected this time they would
finish us, but Walker cried out, "Stand firm! let them come close;
waste no powder." So we stood firm, and took aim over the stone fence,
and let them come so close that the smoke of our guns would pass by
their foremost men. Then we fired, and some of our _toa_, jumped over
the wall and ran at them with the tomahawk, upon which they fled away
to the hill-side again, leaving their dead and wounded in our hands.
Then some of our young men, being hot with the fight, cried out to eat
them raw at once; but this was a foolish proposal, for although we
were fighting against Heke, we were all Ngapuhi together, and more or
less related to each other. Had we been fighting Waikato or Ngatiawa
of the south, it would have been quite correct. So Walker and the
other chiefs would not allow it.
[Footnote 32: The natives estimate distances by fathoms and tens of
fathoms. A _kume_ is ten fathoms.]
While this was going on on Walker's side, Te Tao Nui and his family
were fighting against the division of Te Kahakaha and the Wharepapa at
the other side of the pa; but Te Kahakaha knew by the sound of the
firing that Heke had lost ground and was falling back, so he fell back
also slowly, intending to join the right of his division to Heke's
left, so as to fill up the opening which had been made by Heke falling
back, and then to renew the battle. But, in falling back, his men lost
heart, and Te Tao Nui pressed him hard; so, to encourage his men, he
advanced to the front, calling loudly, "_Whakahokai!_" and, as he ran
forward, his men followed. He was quite naked, and only armed with a
light spear. He came on lightly, like a young man, seeking a man for
his spear; and he rushed upon one of the warriors of the Ngati Pou,
but before he got close enough to strike, a shot struck him on the
breast, and came out at his back, which turned him quite round. Then
another shot struck him on the back, and went out at his breast. Then
he sank to the ground, saying--"Fight bravely, O my family and
friends! for this is my last battle." So he lay quiet there, but did
not immediately die, for he lingered to see once more the young man
Heke, who was the representative of Hongi, his old companion in many
wars.
When Te Kahakaha had fallen, the battle would have been quickly lost
but for the Wharepapa, the old chief of the Ihutai. He was a brave old
warrior, and had also fought in the wars of Hongi Ika. He came forward
laughing, and calling on his tribe to stand firm, for he wanted to
save the body of Te Kahakaha. So the Ihutai stood firm, and for a time
the fight became stationary in that place.
At this moment a boy came running to Heke, where he stood opposed to
Walker on the extreme right of the battle. The boy ran up to Heke and
cried, "The old man has fallen." Then Heke said, "What old man?" The
boy answered, "Te Kahakaha." Then Heke said, "Is he quite dead?" and
the boy answered again, and said, "He is quite dead, and the people
are falling back, and his body will be taken by the enemy." When Heke
heard this his heart rolled about in the hollow of his breast. He
threw away his cloak and gun, and ran naked and unarmed all along the
front of the battle until he came to the place where the old man was
lying. And here he met many men who were running away, and he quickly
drove them back to the fight, for they were terrified by his look--his
appearance was hardly that of a man. Then he came to where the old man
lay, and having knelt down, pressed his nose to the nose of the dying
man, and said, "Father, are you slain?" And the old man said, "Son, I
am slain; but in whose battle should I die if not in yours? It is good
that I should die thus." Then Heke ran amongst the people and called
out to charge; but many had fled. The tribe of Ihutai alone remained,
and some few others. They, however, charged desperately, and drove
back Te Tao Nui a short distance. Then Heke tore a cartridge-box from
the body of a dead man, and cried out to the Ihutai to hold back the
enemy a short time while he should get away the body of the old man.
Then he ran away to where he had seen Te Atua Wera standing on the
path trying to rally those who were flying, and to collect them on
that spot to fight again. This Atua Wera, you already have heard, is
the wisest priest and prophet of all the Ngapuhi, and he stood there
in the path stopping the flying people with his club. But who can bind
a flowing river? Tall men with long tattooed faces ran by like a
stream, and were deaf to his call, but he had about twenty men who
stood firm. Then Heke came running up and cried out, "Advance at once
and carry off the old man while it can be done." Then Te Atua Wera
said, "Give me a gun and some cartridges; I have only a club." Then
Heke held out the cartridge-box, and said, "Take a gun from one of the
people," and being mad with haste, and rage, and grief, he began to
buckle the cartridge-box round the waist of the priest. But Te Atua
Wera perceived that there was blood on the cartridge-box, so he
started back and said, "Where did you get this?" Then Heke cried out,
"Where should I get it? is not this war?" So then the priest saw that
Heke himself, the chief of the war, had been the first himself to
transgress the sacred rules, and had touched the bloody spoils of the
slain. So he said to Heke, "The Maori Atua are arrayed against us, the
spirits of the dead are now angry; we are lost; and you, Heke, are now
no longer invulnerable.[33] Go not to the front, or you will meet with
misfortune. Leave the old man where he is, it cannot now be helped;"
and having said this, Te Atua Wera took the cartridge-box on the end
of his club, and threw it away, club and all, into the high fern.[34]
Then Heke roared out, "What care I for either men or spirits? I fear
not. Let the fellow in heaven look to it. Have I not prayed to him for
years? It is for him to look to me this day.[35] I will carry off the
old man alone." And Heke's eyes rolled towards heaven, and he ground
his teeth. Then he ran forward to carry off Te Kahakaha, but ten of
the men who were with Te Atua Wera followed him, for they were ashamed
to see the chief go alone and unarmed to carry off his ancient friend,
but Te Atua Wera remained where he was.
[Footnote 33: The priest had promised Heke that he should be himself
personally invulnerable so long as the old superstitious war customs
were observed, but which Heke had in this instance broken.]
[Footnote 34: This whole scene between Heke and Te Atua Wera is
described exactly as it occurred. I have heard it described by several
eye-witnesses, one of whom was the Atua Wera himself, and they all
gave the same account. The native priests proscribe many rules and
observances to the people, and prophecy good fortune, _provided_ none
of these rules be broken, well knowing that some of them will to a
certainty be broken by the careless and incorrigible Maori. In case of
the failure of any of their predictions, they have the excuse that
some sacred rule had been broken. In this particular instance the Atua
Wera, seeing the battle going against Heke, took advantage of his
having handled the bloody cartridge-box; the people having been
forbidden to touch anything having the blood of the enemy on it, until
certain ceremonies of purification had been performed after the
battle, to render plunder or spoil lawfully tangible.]
[Footnote 35: Heke had been for years a Christian, according to the
Maori notion of Christianity, which was then, if not now, a mere
jumble of superstition and native barbarism. Here Heke says, that
because he _prayed_ to the "fellow in heaven"--by which he means that
at stated periods he had for some years made use of certain words
which were supposed to gain the favour of "the European God"--that in
consequence that God should favour him now if he was able. The word
_karakia_ which Heke made use of does not mean prayer as we understand
that word. _Karakia_ properly signifies a formula of words or
_incantation_, which words are supposed to contain a _power_, and to
have a positive effect on the spirit to whom they are addressed,
totally irrespective of the conduct or actions, good or bad, of the
person using them. The fact is that the Maori has, perhaps, the lowest
religious character of any human being; his mental formation seems to
have the _minimum_ of religious tendency. The idea of a supreme being
has never occurred to him, and the word which the missionaries use for
God (_Atua_) means indifferently, a dead body, a sickness, a ghost, or
a malevolent spirit. Maui, the Atua, who they say fished up the island
from the sea, is supposed to have _died_ long ago by some, and all
agree that he no longer exists.]
All this which I have told took but little time, for in battle when
men's eyes shine there is no listlessness. But by this time Heke's men
to the right were quite defeated by Walker, and running away; but
Walker pursued them, slowly and with caution, for the ground was
covered with brushwood, and rocks, and high fern, and the enemy though
defeated were still more numerous than we were, and we followed
slowly lest we might fall into an ambush.
So Te Atua Wera sat on a stone beside the path waiting for the return
of Heke, and soon he saw that the battle was lost, for people came
running past in great numbers, and among them came the men who had
gone with Heke, and they brought with them the body of the old man, Te
Kahakaha, which Heke had gone with them to bring away. The fire of Te
Tao Nui now began to come closer, and the bullets were cutting down
the fern all round them, and the Atua cried out to the bearers of the
body to inquire for Heke, and they said he was close behind them. So
Te Atua waited some time longer, but Heke did not come, and the enemy
were getting near, and his mind was disturbed, for he had a
presentiment of evil. At this moment Hoao, a very noted Ngapuhi
warrior, came jumping over the fern, and seeing the Atua Wera, he
shouted, "Turn--face the enemy, for Heke has fallen, and unless
quickly rescued will be taken." Te Atua said, "Where is he?" The man
said, "Here in the hollow, where I have hid him in the high fern, but
could not carry him off myself." Te Tao Nui had now got close, and
some of his men had actually passed where Heke lay, but had not
discovered him. So now Te Atua Wera saw it was his time to do his
part, so he called out "Come, follow me to die for _Pokaia_.[36]"
Three men started forward at this call; they ran to where Hekewas,
and bore him off. In doing so they were more than once surrounded by
the enemy, but the fern and brushwood were so thick that they got off
unperceived. The fern and brushwood would not, however, have saved
them had it not been for the Atua Wera, who, by his continual
_karakia_ (incantations) rendered the bearers of Heke invisible to the
enemy. The three men who carried off Heke were all from Hokianga; they
were all elderly men, and practised warriors. Their names were _Ta
Pura_, _Hoao_, and _Te Ngawe_.
[Footnote 36: In the agitation caused by hearing that Heke had fallen,
the Atua Wera called Heke by the name of _Pokaia_. This was the name
of Heke's father, a celebrated cannibal warrior and desperate savage.
His closing scene took place in the country of the Ngatiwhatua, where,
having gone in a war expedition, he and his 300 men were killed and
eaten, almost to a man, by the Ngatiwhatua, who in their turn were all
but exterminated by Hongi Ika in revenge for Pokaia.]
So Heke lost in this battle many of his best old war chiefs, he was
himself badly wounded and defeated, and escaped with difficulty to the
fort at Ohaeawae, to which place he was chased by Walker and Te Tao
Nui. These misfortunes would not have happened had not Heke been so
thoughtless as to handle the bloody spoils of the dead, before the
proper ceremonies had rendered them common. But there is nothing in
this world so deaf to reason or so disobedient as a warrior--when he
is enraged he only listens to his own courage, and, being led away by
it, dies.
After this battle Heke remained some time at Ohaeawae, and Walker
stayed at Te Ahuahu, the fort which Te Tao Nui had taken. Walker
buried Heke's dead which had been left on the field, and there was a
great lamentation at both forts, for the number of killed on both
sides was great.
Heke, and Kawiti, who had again joined him, now enlarged, and
strengthened, and completely finished the pa at Ohaeawae, where they
were stopping. It was originally but small, and belonged to Pene Taui,
but they now completely finished it, and made it a perfect Maori fort
in every respect. The inside fence was made of a very hard wood which
does not splinter much; the posts of this fence were about one fathom
in the ground, and the fence over ground was about four fathoms high.
The posts were stout, and some of them would require thirty men with
ropes to raise them. Inside this fence was the trench in which the men
stood to fire; their faces only reached the level of the ground
outside the fort. The loopholes, through which the men fired, were
also only level with the ground outside, so that in firing the men
were very slightly exposed. Outside of all was the _pekerangi_, which
is a lighter sort of fence put up to deaden the force of shot before
it strikes the inner one, and also intended to delay a storming party,
so that while they would be pulling it down, the men behind the inner
fence might have time to shoot them. This pekerangi was nearly as high
as the inner fence, and stood little more than half a fathom outside
of it; it was made of a strong framework, and was padded thickly with
green flax to deaden the force of shot. It was also elevated about a
foot from the ground, so that the men behind the inner fence,
standing in the ditch, could shoot through the loopholes in the inner
fence _under_ this outside fence; also at different distances along
the _kaue_ (curtain) there were _koki_ (flanking) angles, capable of
containing many men, so that a storming party would be exposed to a
fire both in front and flank, and in these angles were put large ship
guns. The men inside, in the inner trench, were also protected from a
flanking fire by _pakeaka_ (traverses), which crossed the trench at
intervals; also inside the place were many excavations under ground
covered over with large logs of timber, and over the timber earth. In
these pits the men could sleep safe from the shot of the big guns of
the soldiers. There were also high platforms at the corners of the
inner fence, from whence could be seen all that an enemy might be
doing outside.
When this fort was completely finished and provisioned, the priests
(_tohunga_) took, according to ancient custom, the chips of the posts,
and with them performed the usual ceremonies, and when they had done
so they declared that this would be a fortunate fortress; so it was
made sacred (_tapu_,) as were all the men who were to defend it.
This fortress being now quite finished and ready for war, the soldiers
came from Auckland to attack it, and also came the sailors and _Pakeha
Maori_ (Militia). They landed at the Bay of Islands, came up the Keri
Keri in boats, and from thence to the Waimate along the cart road.
They brought with them two very small brass guns, and two very short
iron ones (mortars). The short iron guns looked like potato pots, and
we laughed at them, and thought of Heke's saying of "What prize can be
won by such a gun?" We however, notwithstanding our laughing, thought
they must have some use, or the soldiers would not have brought them.
At last, after remaining several days at the Waimate, the _taua_
advanced against Ohaeawae. The soldiers, sailors, and other pakeha
might be in number about eight hundred, and we Maori were four
hundred. The enemy did not attempt to oppose our advance, which was
very good; for the soldiers were so heavy loaded with cloths, and tied
up with belts, and had such heavy cartridge-boxes and also little
water casks, hanging to their sides, and packs on their backs, besides
the musket and bayonet, that we all said that if we Maori were loaded
in that way, we should neither be able to fight nor to run away. Great
is the patience of the soldiers!
At this time Heke was very ill, and expected to die from his wound
which he had received at the great fight at Te Whatuteri. So his
people took him away to his own place at Tautora, and Te Atua Wera and
sixty men remained there with him. Many, also, of the men who had been
at the fight with Walker at Te Whatuteri had returned home, so there
remained at the pa at Ohaeawae only Kawiti, Pene Taui, and one hundred
men.
So the soldiers encamped before the pa at the distance of about two
hundred fathoms. There was a little hill on their right, rather
advanced towards the pa. Walker took possession of this hill, and
encamped upon it with about sixty men. This hill overlooked both the
pa and the camp of the soldiers, and from it everything could be seen
that was going on. The rest of the Maori encamped at a short distance
behind the soldiers; and on the left of the soldiers, and a little
advanced, were placed the four little big guns, two of brass and two
of iron.
So now both parties being face to face and close to each other, they
were very watchful. Some of the soldiers stood all night watching
between the camp and the pa, and the people in the pa watched also,
and the watch-cry resounded among the hills. This was the cry of the
pa: "Come on, soldiers, for revenge; come on! Stiff your dead are
lying on Taumata tutu. Come on! Come on!"[37] Then in answer was heard
the watch-cry of Walker: "Come on, O Ngapuhi, for your revenge, come
on! We have slain you in heaps on the battle-field. Come on! Come on!"
So passed the first night before Ohaeawae.
[Footnote 37: "Whai mai e te hoia, ki tetahi utu maua akato wharoro
ana koe, kei Taumata tutu--whai mai! whai mai!"--The watch-cry.]
Next morning the four little big guns began to fire at the pa, but
they did no damage. Some of the shots stuck fast in the large posts,
but did not go through; others went between the posts, making a mark
on each side, but leaving the posts standing as strong as ever. As for
the men in the pa, they were all in the trenches, and the shots which
came through the fence went over their heads, and did them no harm.
After the guns had fired a few times, the people in the pa began
firing at them with muskets, and soon killed one sailor, and wounded
some others. So the men left the guns for the rest of that day, but in
the night they took them away, and placed two of them on the hill
where Walker had encamped, and the other two on the level ground
between that hill and the soldiers' camp. They also made banks of
earth to shelter them, so that the men who fired them were safer than
they had been the day before, when they had only a little green flax
to cover them, which was of no use.
Next day the guns began to fire again, and continued until night; and
also a great number of soldiers, sailors, and Maori scattered
themselves about the pa, and fired at it with muskets, but could do no
harm; and this went on for several days, but the fences of the pa
remained standing, and not much injured. I think, however, that
although the guns were smaller than they should have been, if they had
been continually fired at one place, an opening in the fence would
have been made at last; but instead of doing this, when they had been
fired for half a day at one part of the fence, then the soldiers would
begin firing at some other part of the pa, and then the people would
come out of the trenches and repair any damage which had been done at
the place at which the guns had been fired at first. We Maori did not
think the soldiers did wisely in this respect, but they may have had
some reason for it which we could not understand, for we don't know
much about big guns; as was also seen at Ohaeawae, for there were four
big guns in the pa, larger than those of the soldiers, and they were
fired at us very often, but they never hit any one. My idea is, that
big guns are no use to knock down a pa, unless they are very big
indeed. But the Maori say that in future wars they will build forts
where it will be hard, and take a long time, to bring big guns; and
when the soldiers after much pains get them there, they will leave the
pa at once, and go somewhere else where it will take a long time to
follow them, and so on till the soldiers are tired of dragging big
guns about the country, after which both parties will be armed with
muskets only, and the Maori can use these arms as well as the
soldiers. This is what I have heard say, and I think it a very correct
thought.
So the firing of big guns and muskets went on day after day, but no
opening was made in the face of the pa; but the chief of the
soldiers[38] did not care much for this, for he wanted every day to
send his men to rush up to the pa, to pull down the fence with their
hands, or pull it down with ropes, and so get in. But Walker and the
other chiefs always prevented this, as they knew that all the soldiers
would be killed before they could get in in this way. Every one of the
Maori were of this opinion, and also some of our old pakeha friends
who were with us, and who knew the appearance of the Maori in war.
Nevertheless, the chief of the soldiers wished every day to send his
men to rush up to the pa; and so, at last, we heard so much of this
that we began to be very melancholy, and Walker told me that he felt
sick in the stomach when the chief of the soldiers spoke to him about
it, it seemed so great a waste of men's lives. We all became, as I
have said, very melancholy, for we all began to see that it would be
done at last, and we grieved, therefore, for our friends the soldiers,
who we knew would be all killed. But what vexed us most was, that so
fine a war party as ours should be beaten by such a small number of
people as were in the pa, only because the chief of the soldiers was a
foolish, inexperienced person.[39]
[Footnote 38: Colonel Despard.]
[Footnote 39: The pa at Ohaeawae was attacked against the advice of
the friendly native chiefs, who well knew its strength, and the
certain repulse to be expected. They called Colonel Despard anything
but a soldier, and the term "foolish and inexperienced" is the
_mildest_ they applied to him.]
At last the chief of the soldiers thought of sending for a very large
gun from a ship of war at the Bay of Islands, which would be large
enough to break down the fence. If he had done this at first an
opening would soon have been made, and the fort taken without many men
being killed; but as it was, this gun when it came was of no use, for
the chief of the soldiers did not wait till it had broken down the
fence, but attempted to take the pa without this having been done.
This gun was placed at the foot of the hill where Walker had his
camp, and it was not fired many times before it became apparent that
should it keep on firing till next evening, a large opening would be
made in the fence; so we began to think that the chief of the soldiers
would have patience, and wait till this should be done.
Now on this same day, when this big gun began to fire, thirty men came
out of the pa unperceived, and coming through a wood in the rear of
Walker's camp, at a time when Walker and most of his men were absent,
they rushed in and plundered it, killing one soldier who was there,
and also one Maori, and wounded also a pakeha, the son of a
missionary. They pulled down Walker's flag and took it away, and
having fired a volley at the camp of the soldiers, ran off to their
pa, leaving one man killed, who was killed by Tara Patiki, and not by
the soldiers, as I have heard say. I am sure of this, for I saw Tara
Patiki shoot him. They were close upon us before we saw them, and we
had great difficulty to escape, but we both jumped into the fern, and
ran down the hill as hard as we could. I fired my gun right into the
middle of them, but as only one man was killed, I suppose my shot
missed.
When the soldiers saw that Walker's pa was taken, they came out of
their camp, and charged up the hill; but when they came to the top,
they found that the enemy were gone, and had taken away everything
valuable they could find; they found the soldier who had been killed.
He had been sent there by the chief of the soldiers to take care of
one of the little big guns which had been removed up to that place,
so he was killed there; but I have heard that the chief of the
soldiers when he wrote his letter to Auckland, to tell the Governor
about this matter, said that this soldier was killed in charging up
the hill; but this is not true, for I and many others got to the top
of the hill before the soldiers, and when we got there the enemy were
gone, and the dead soldier was lying there where he had been killed,
close to the small big gun.
This affair, however, made the chief of the soldiers quite mad, so
that same evening he ordered all his men to rush upon the pa and pull
it down with ropes, or climb over it with ladders, or any way they
could; he also sent to Walker to tell him what he was about to do.
Walker spoke against it, as he had done before, and advised to wait
one day more, till the big gun had made an opening for the soldiers to
rush through quickly; otherwise, he said they would be all killed, and
not get in at all. But the chief of the soldiers would not wait. So
when Walker saw the attack would be made he offered to attack also at
another face of the pa, and also twenty young men, cousins of Hauraki,
the young chief of Te Hikutu, who was killed at Waikare, came and
asked leave to go with the soldiers; but the chief of the soldiers
would not let them go; neither would he consent to Walker's making an
attack, lest meeting the soldiers in the pa, his men might be mistaken
for the enemy.
When we saw that the attack was determined upon, and just going to
take place, we were all in a great state of agitation, and knew not
what to think. Most said all the soldiers would be killed; but then we
thought, on the other hand, that perhaps these European warriors could
do things above the understanding of us Maori, and so perhaps they
might take the pa. But all thought the chief of the soldiers very
wrong to attempt the thing before an opening had been made for the
soldiers to enter by. Also, Toby (Lieutenant Philpots), who was chief
of the sailors, and a very brave gentleman, had walked close up to the
fence of the pa, and along it, and, after having examined it, he
returned, and told the chief of the soldiers that the place could not
be taken by storm, unless it was first breached. When Lieutenant
Philpots went up to the pa, the people were firing at every one who
showed himself, and at first they fired at him; but he walked straight
on, not caring about the shots which were fired at him. So, when the
people in the pa saw that it was Philpots who had done this, they
ceased firing at him, and told him to go back, as they did not wish to
hurt him. So having examined the fence closely, he returned, but the
soldier chief did not mind what he said, and was angry, and spoke
rudely to him for having given his opinion on the matter.
So now the chief of the soldiers mustered his men and divided them
into parties. One party he stationed on the hill which was Walker's
camp, and with all the rest he went to the attack. And first came a
small party with a young chief leading them; these were all _toa_ who
had consented to die, so that those who followed might succeed. After
them came a party of about eighty men, and after these came the main
body of the soldiers; and with them also advanced the sailors, and the
pakeha Maori, carrying ladders. The sailors advanced without their
chief, for as yet he (Philpots) remained to fire some last shots from
the big gun. But there was with them a young chief called Pena (Mr.
Spain). So the whole attack moved on. We soon saw with great surprise
that the soldiers were not going to attack that part of the pa which
for so many days had been battered by the big guns, and where there
might have been some small chance of their getting in, for in that
direction the fence had been damaged in some degree, particularly by
the large ship gun. The soldiers, however, advanced as they had been
ordered against that part of the pa which had been built stronger than
any other, and which had not been fired at at all by the big guns. The
reason why this part of the pa was the strongest was, because it was
the part which had been originally built by Pene Taui as a pa for
himself. He had begun it at the beginning of the war, and built it at
his leisure, and made it very strong. And also that part of the pa was
the nearest to the forest; so all the largest and heaviest timber,
which was difficult to move, was put there. But when Heke and Kawiti
fell back to Ohaeawae, this original pa was found too small to hold
their people; so they enlarged it very much; but, being in a great
hurry, expecting the soldiers back from Auckland, they could not take
time to make the new part so strong as that which had been first
built by Taui; but, nevertheless, by working hard day and night, they
made it very strong.
So the soldiers marched on silently and in good order, in full view of
the pa, till they came opposite to the part they were about to attack,
and then they halted in a little hollow to prepare for the great rush.
But all this was done quietly, and in an orderly manner. The chiefs
did not make speeches, or jump, or stamp about as we Maori do to
encourage the men, but all was quiet, and silent, and orderly, as if
nothing uncommon was about to take place. I took great notice of this,
and did not know what to think; for, when we Maori have determined to
do a desperate thing like this, we are all like mad men, and make a
great clamour, rushing towards the world of darkness (_te po_) with
great noise and fury.
While the soldiers were advancing, Walker and all the people went and
took up a position behind the pa, so that in case the soldiers got in,
the retreat of the enemy would be cut off, in case they attempted to
escape in that direction.
Now the defenders of the pa perceived that the time of battle was
come, and all went to their stations, and the chiefs stood up and made
speeches, each to his own family. This was the speech of
Haupokeha--"Have great patience this day, O children and friends; we
have said 'Let us fight the soldiers,' and behold the rage of the
soldier is at hand; be brave and enduring this day; be victorious; the
parent who maintains us is the land--die for the land!--die for the
land!" Other chiefs spoke to the people, and some of the young men
left the trenches, and called to the old men to lead them out to fight
the soldiers in the open plain before the pa; but Haupokeha, in great
anger, said, "No; this shall not be done: return to your stations, and
you shall see the enemy walk alive into the oven: they are coming only
to their own destruction." At this moment the bugle sounded, and the
soldiers came charging on, shouting after the manner of European
warriors, and those who were on Walker's hill shouted also; and we
Maori behind the pa shouted also; and the whole valley resounded with
the anger of the pakeha! Soon the soldiers were within twenty fathoms
of the fort; and then the fire darted from under the pekerangi; the
noise of guns was heard, and the foremost soldiers fell headlong to
the ground. But the soldiers are very brave: they charged right on,
and came up to the pekerangi, which is the outer fence, and began to
tear it to pieces with their hands. Then Philpots, when he saw the
sailors charge, left the big gun and ran across the plain, and joined
them; and he, being a _toa_, shouted to his men to be resolute, and
destroy the fence; and then, with one pull, the sailors brought down
about five fathoms of the pekerangi; and then they were before the
true fence, which being made of whole trees placed upright and fixed
deeply in the ground, could not be pulled down at all. All this time
the fire from inside through the loopholes continued unceasingly, at
the distance of one arm's length from where the soldiers were
standing, and also a heavy fire came from a flanking angle at a
distance of ten fathoms; and in this angle there was a big gun; it was
heavily loaded with powder, and for shot there was put into it a long
bullock chain, and this was fired into the midst of the soldiers,
doing great damage. So the soldiers fell there, one on the other, in
great numbers; but not one thought of running away. And Philpots did
all a man could do to break down the inside fence, but it could not be
done at all; so he ran along this fence till he saw a small opening
which had been made to fire a big gun through, and he tried to get
through this opening, at the same time calling to his men to follow.
Then the people in the pa saw him, and about ten men fired at him, but
all missed, and he almost got into the midst of the place, still
calling on his men to follow, when a young lad fired at him, and
killed him dead at once. So he lay there dead with his sword in his
hand, like a toa as he was; but the noise and smoke, shouting and
confusion, were so great as to prevent his men from perceiving that he
was killed, and bearing off his body, for such is the appearance of
war. Also, a chief of the soldiers was killed (Captain Grant), and
another died of his wounds, and there was a long line of dead and
wounded men lying along the outside of the fence, and soon all would
have been killed, but the chief of the soldiers, seeing this, sounded
a call on the tetere (bugle) for them to retreat. And then, but not
before, the soldiers began to run back, taking with them most of the
wounded; but about forty dead were left behind, under the wall of the
pa. This battle did not take up near so long a time as I am telling of
it, and in it about one hundred and ten Europeans were killed or
wounded.
Great is the courage of the soldiers! They will walk quietly at the
command of their chiefs to certain death; there is no people to be
compared to them; but they were obliged to retreat. The number of men
in the fort was about one hundred and seventy, and the part attacked
was defended by the hapu of Pene Taui, in number just forty men. So
the war runners ran through all the north, saying--"One wing of
England is broken, and hangs dangling on the ground."
Before saying any more of this fight, I must tell you of two
slaves--one called Peter, who belonged to Kaetoke, and the other
called Tarata, who belongs to Ti Kahuka. Many years ago Tarata went to
England in a large ship, and having gone ashore to see what he could
see, he lost his way in the great town called London. So, in the
night, the police found him wandering about, and took him prisoner,
and put him in the whareherehere (watch-house), for they thought he
had stolen a bundle of clothes which he was carrying. In the morning
they brought him before the chief and accused him, but Tarata had not
been able to learn to speak English, so he could not defend himself,
or say from whence he came; so he thought he was going to be killed,
and began to cry. Just then a ship captain came into the house, and
seeing Tarata he knew he was a Maori, and spoke to him in Maori, and
told him not to be afraid, and then he turned to the chief of the
police and made a speech to him, and to all the people who were
assembled there to see Tarata killed, as he believed; but when the
ship captain had done speaking, the chief of the police was no longer
angry, and said, "Poor fellow, poor fellow;" and then all the people
present gave each a small piece of money to Tarata. Some gave
sixpence, some a shilling, and some a few coppers; the chief of the
police gave Tarata five shillings. When all the money was together
there was more than ever Tarata had seen before, so he was very glad
indeed; and a policeman went with him and showed him the way to his
ship, and took care of him, lest he should be robbed of his money.
After this Tarata returned to New Zealand, and many years after he
came with his chief to the war to help Walker. So at Ohaeawae, when he
saw the soldiers going to the attack, he thought of the goodness of
the people of England, and so he said, "I will go and die along with
these soldiers." Then, when Peter, the slave of Kaetoke, heard this,
he said, "I also am a pakeha; I have been reared since a child by the
Europeans; they have made me a man, and all the flesh on my bones
belongs to them." So these two slaves ran quickly and took their place
with the _wakaka_ (forlorn-hope, or leading party) of the soldiers,
but when the chief of that party saw them, he ordered them to return;
but they persisted in going on, so the soldier ran at them and cut at
them with his sword, and his soldiers were shouting and running on. So
the two slaves stood to one side, but would not return, and when the
soldiers had passed, they followed them up to the fence of the pa, and
stood there firing into it till the soldiers fell back, and
afterwards, when the soldiers retreated, they carried off one wounded
soldier who had been left behind.
After the fight, the chief of the soldiers sent some people with a
white flag to the pa, to ask permission to take away the dead soldiers
who lay beside the fence. They were told that they might come and take
them next day. Soon after the flag had returned it was night, and then
many near friends of Heke came from Kaikohe and entered the pa, for
they had heard that the soldiers had been beaten off, and this gave
them courage to come, which they had not before, and then late in the
night they joining with the men of the pa danced the war dance which
is appropriate to victory, and sang the song of triumph as they
danced, and the song sounded among the hills in the night like
thunder. This was the song--
E tama te uaua,
E taima te maroro,
Ina hoki ra te tohu!
O te uaua.
Kei taku ringa, e mauana.
Te upoko.
O te Kawau Tatakiha!
O youth, of sinewy force,
O men of martial strength,
Behold the sign of power!
In my hand I hold the scalp,
Of the Kawau Tatakiha.
And often in the night the watch-cry of the pa was heard, and this
was the cry of the pa--"Come on! come on! soldiers, for revenge, come
on! Stiff lie your dead by the fence of my pa--come on, come on!" And
also a great shouting and screaming was heard, which the soldiers
thought was the cry of one of their men being tortured; but the noise
was the voice of a priest who was then possessed of a spirit. But,
nevertheless, the body of one soldier was burned that night, for as
the people were mending the fence by torchlight there was a dead
soldier lying near, and they put a torch of kauri resin on the body to
light their work, which burnt the body very much, and caused the
report to be spread afterwards, when the body was found by the
soldiers, that the man had been tortured; but this was not true, for
the man was dead before the fire was thrown on the body.
During the night a report arose amongst the Maori of Walker's camp--I
don't know how or from what cause--that the soldiers were about to
decamp under cover of darkness, and that the chief of the soldiers had
proposed to shoot all his wounded men to prevent them falling alive
into the hands of the enemy. When we heard this we got into a state of
commotion and great alarm, and did not know what to do. I ran off to a
hut where an old pakeha friend of mine slept, and having aroused him,
I told him what I had heard, and asked him if such things ever had
been done by his countrymen, and also what he thought would be best
for us to do. My friend said nothing for some time, but lit his pipe
and smoked a little, and at last he said, "Such a thing has never yet
been done by English soldiers, and be assured will not be done
to-night; but, nevertheless, go you to all your relations and those
who will listen to your words, and make them watch with their arms in
their hands till daylight. I will do the same with my friends, for,
perhaps, the soldiers might go to-night to take away the wounded to
the Waimate and then return: who knows? And in the morning, perhaps,
the enemy may think they are gone away entirely, and may come out of
the pa; so, in that case, you and I will elevate our names by fighting
them ourselves, without the soldiers." So I and my pakeha friend
watched all night with the people, until the sun rose. But the
soldiers did not go away that night, so I suppose the report was
false, but it alarmed us much at the time, and some of us were very
near running away that night.[40]
[Footnote 40: This report actually was really spread in the camp the
night after the attack. It struck the natives with consternation, and
there are those who still believe that there was _some_ foundation for
it, and that a retreat had been talked of.]
When the morning came, a party went to bring away the bodies of the
dead. The people of the pa had drawn them to a distance from the
fence, and left them to be taken away, so they were taken and buried
near the camp; and when this was done, the soldiers began to fire on
the pa, and the war began again. But the body of the soldier chief who
had been killed was not given up, for much of the flesh had been cut
off. This was done by the advice of the tohunga, so that the soldiers
having been dried for food they might lose their _mana_ (_prestige_,
good fortune), and be in consequence less feared.
And the scalp had been taken from the head of Philpots to be used by
the tohunga in divination to discover the event of the war. This was
not done from revenge or ill-will to him, but because, as he was a
_toa_ and a chief, his scalp was more desirable for this purpose than
that of an ordinary person.
So the foliage of the battle-field was taken to the Atua Wera that he
might perform the usual ceremonies, and cause the people to be
fortunate in the war.[41]
[Footnote 41: Amongst other superstitious native customs, when a
battle has been fought, the victorious party send to their priest, no
matter how far he may be off, a collection of the herbage actually
growing on the field of battle; he takes it and performs with it
certain ceremonies, and sends back the messenger with his advice, &c.,
&c. This is called sending the _rahu rahu_ of the battle field. _Rahu
rahu_ is the name of the _fern_ which is the most common plant in the
North Island.]
When the people in the pa saw that, although the soldiers had lost so
many men, they were not dismayed, and seeing also that the inner fence
was beginning to give way before the fire of the big gun, they made up
their minds to leave the pa in the night, so that the soldiers should
not have an opportunity to revenge themselves. So in the night they
all left, and went to Kaikohe, without it having been perceived that
they were gone.
However, before they had been gone very long, Walker's people began to
suspect what had taken place, for the dogs in the deserted pa were
howling, and the watch-cry was no longer heard. So a man called
Tamahue entered it cautiously, and found it deserted. He crept on
softly, and in entering a house he put his hand on a woman who had
been left behind asleep, so he kept quiet to see if the sleeping
person would awake; and he began to believe that the people had not
left the pa, and was about to kill the sleeping person for _utu_ for
himself, for he did not expect to escape alive, there being so many
pits and trenches which he could not see in the dark. He, however,
thought it would be best first to examine the other houses. This he
did, and perceived that the place was deserted, for all the other
houses were empty. The only weapon Tamahue had was a tomahawk, for he
had lost his left arm at a great battle at Hokianga some years before,
and was therefore unable to use a gun. So he returned to the sleeping
person, and jumped upon her, and raised his hand to strike, for he did
not know it was a woman who was sleeping there, but thought it was a
warrior. But though he had but one arm he did not call to his brother,
who was close outside the pa, for he intended to strike the first blow
in the inside of this fortress himself. You must know that we Maori
think this a great thing, even though the blow be struck only against
a post or a stone. But Tamahue being naked, as all good warriors
should be when on a dangerous adventure, his bare knees pressed
against the breast of the sleeping person, and then he perceived it
was a woman, so he struck his tomahawk into the ground only, and
having taken her prisoner, he called his brother, and they returned
to the camp, and gave information that the pa was deserted.
Then all at once there arose a great confusion. All the Maori and most
of the soldiers ran off to the pa in the dark, and they tumbled by
tens into the pits and trenches, which were in the inside of the
place. The soldiers ran about searching for plunder, and quarrelling
with the Maori for ducks and geese. There was a great noise, every one
shouting at once, and as much uproar as if the place had been taken by
storm; and so this was how Ohaeawae was taken.
In the morning the soldiers dug up the dead of the enemy, nine in
number, being in search of the body of the soldier chief who had been
killed in the attack. They found the body and also that of the soldier
which had been burned; and besides the nine bodies of the enemy's men
which the soldiers dug up, there was also found the body of a woman
lying in the pa, which made ten the people of the pa had lost.
While the soldiers were doing this, all the Maori went in pursuit of
the enemy as far as Kaikohe; and when they got there a certain pakeha
met them, and spoke angrily to the chiefs for pursuing Heke's people,
and told us that our souls would be roasted in the other world for
making war on Sunday--for it was on Sunday this happened. So the
chiefs thought that perhaps it might be unlucky to fight on the
_ratapu_; they, therefore, only set fire to Heke's house at Kaikohe,
and returned to the camp at Ohaeawae. But before the war was over, we
all found that the soldiers did not mind Sunday at all when any harm
could be done on it; but when there was nothing else to do they always
went to prayers.
After this the soldiers burned the pa, and went back to the Waimate,
where they built a fort, and stayed some time, and there they buried
Philpots; and we Maori still remember Philpots, for he was a generous,
brave, and good-natured man. But now years have gone by, and his ship
has sailed away--no one knows where--and he is left by his people; but
sometimes a pakeha traveller may be seen standing by his grave. But
the Europeans do not lament so loudly as we do; they have perhaps the
same thought as some of us, who say that the best lamentation for a
_toa_ is a blow struck against the enemy.
While the soldiers were staying at Waimate, Kawiti left Kaikohe, and
went to his own place at the Ruapekapeka, and fortified it, making it
very strong; but Heke remained at Tautora, not yet cured of his wound.
There was a pa near Waimate, belonging to Te Aratua, and the soldiers
went to attack it; but when Te Aratua heard they were coming, he left
it, and so the soldiers took it, and burned it, without any
opposition.
Some time after this the soldiers left Waimate, and went to the Bay of
Islands, where others joined them. The sailors came also in the ships
of war, and with them came also the pakeha Maori; and there was a
great gathering, for the soldiers had heard that the fort of Kawiti at
the Ruapekapeka was completely finished and ready for war, and
therefore they prepared to attack it. Walker also, and the other
chiefs with their people, joined the soldiers as before; and when we
were all together we formed a grand war party--the greatest that had
been seen during the war. The soldiers forgot nothing this time. They
brought with them all their arms of every kind. They brought long and
short big guns, and rockets, and guns the shot of which bursts with a
great noise. Nothing was left behind. We were glad of this, for we
wished to see the full strength of the soldiers put forth, that we
might see what the utmost of their power was.[42]
[Footnote 42: The friendly natives never lost sight of the possibility
that they themselves might some day have to fight us. They therefore
scrutinized closely all our military proceedings, and were anxious to
see us do our very best, or rather, our _worst_, so that they might
know what they would have to contend against.]
So this great war party left the Bay of Islands, and went up the river
to attack Kawiti at the Ruapekapeka. They went in boats and canoes,
and having arrived at the pa of Tamati Pukututu, they landed the guns,
and powder, and provisions, and began making a road to the
Ruapekapeka. And after many days, the road being completed, the _taua_
advanced, and encamped before the Ruapekapeka.
During the first two days there was not much done, but when all had
been got ready, the soldiers began to fire in earnest--rockets,
mortars, ship guns, long brass guns--all burst out firing at once. We
were almost deaf with the noise, and the air was full of cannon balls.
The fence of the pa began to disappear like a bank of fog before the
morning breeze. So now we saw that the soldiers had at last found out
how to knock down a pa. But before the fence was completely broken
down, the chief of the soldiers ordered his men to rush up to the pa
as they had done before at Ohaeawae. The soldiers were about to do so,
for they are a very obedient people, when Moses, with much difficulty,
persuaded the chief of the soldiers not to let them go, by telling him
that he was only going to waste all his men's lives, and advising him
to wait till the fence was entirely gone before he made the attack. We
all disliked this soldier very much, and saw that he was a very
foolish, inexperienced person, and also that he cared nothing for the
lives of his soldiers; but we thought it a great pity to waste such
fine well-grown men as the soldiers were, without any chance of
revenge.
So the guns fired away, and after a few days the fence was completely
down in many places, for the shot came like a shower of hail; but not
many were killed in the pa, for they had plenty of houses under ground
which the shot could not reach; but they were out of all patience, by
reason of the pot guns (mortars). These guns had shot which were
hollow exactly like a calabash, and they were full of gunpowder, and
they came tumbling into the pa, one after another, and they would
hardly be on the ground before they would burst with a great noise;
and no sooner would one burst than another would burst; and so they
came one after another so fast that the people in the pa could get no
rest, and were getting quite deaf. These guns, however, never killed
any one. They are a very vexatious invention for making people deaf,
and preventing them from getting any sleep. One good thing about them
is, that, whenever one of the shots does not burst, a considerable
number of charges of powder for a musket can be got out of it; and
whenever one dropped close to any of the men in the pa, he would pull
out the _wicki_ (fuse), and then get out the powder. A good deal of
powder was procured in this way.
The pot guns are to make people deaf, and keep them from sleeping; the
rockets are to kill people and burn their houses. A rocket knocked off
the head of a woman in the pa, but did not hurt a child she had on her
back at the time. Another took off the head of a young man of the
Kapotai; another took out the stomach of a slave called Hi; he
belonged to the Wharepapa chief of the Ihutai. This slave lived till
night, crying for some one to shoot him, and then died. One man was
killed by a cannon ball which came through the fence and knocked his
leg off as easily as if it had been a boiled potato. The man was a
warrior of the Ngati Kahununu, from the south; when he saw his leg was
off above the knee, he cried out, "Look here, the iron has run away
with my leg; what playful creatures these cannon balls are!" When he
said this, he fell back and died, smiling, as brave warriors do.
There was not many killed in the pa, for the people kept under ground;
neither did the soldiers lose many men, for they kept at a distance,
and let the big guns and rockets do all the work. One evening a strong
party rushed out of the pa and attacked Walker's men, and a pretty
smart fight ensued. Now, this party were for the most part of the
Kapotai tribe, who had killed Hauraki at Waikare, and among Walker's
men were several young men, cousins of Hauraki, who had come to seek
revenge; and these young men fought with great spirit, and one of them
killed Ripiro, a Kapotai, and took his name.[43] Some others of the
Kapotai were killed, and others wounded, but none of Walker's men were
killed, and only a few wounded. Amongst the wounded, however, was that
brave warrior Wi Repa, who had three fingers of his left hand shot
off, being the second time he had been wounded during the war.
[Footnote 43: It is a common practice when a native has killed a man
of any note in battle, for the party who killed the other to
commemorate the exploit by taking the name of the dead man.]
By this time the fences of the pa were broken down very much, but the
people waited patiently, in expectation that the soldiers would come
on to the attack, for they thought that, though the soldiers would
take the place, they would be able to kill many of them, and then
escape into the forest behind the pa. But the guns and rockets kept
firing on, and the people began to be quite tired of hearing the
shells bursting all about them continually, when Heke, who had
recovered from his wound, arrived with seventy men. As soon as Heke
had observed the state of the pa, and how things were, he said, "You
are foolish to remain in this pa to be pounded by cannon balls. Let us
leave it. Let the soldiers have it, and we will retire into the forest
and draw them after us, where they cannot bring the big guns. The
soldiers cannot fight amongst the kareao; they will be as easily
killed amongst the canes as if they were wood-pigeons." So all the
people left the pa except Kawiti, who lingered behind with a few men,
being unwilling to leave his fort without fighting at least one battle
for it.
The next day after Heke's arrival was Sunday. Most of the soldiers had
gone to prayers; many of Heke's people were at prayers also, and no
one was in the pa but Kawiti, and a few men who were in the trenches
asleep, not expecting to be attacked that day. But William Walker
Turau (Walker's brother) thought he perceived that the pa was not well
manned, so he crept carefully up to the place and looked in, and saw
no one; but Kawiti with eleven men were sleeping in the trenches.
Turau then waved his hand to Walker, who was waiting for a signal, and
then stepped noiselessly into the fort. Then Walker and Tao Nui with
both their tribes came rushing on. The soldiers seeing this left
prayers, and with the sailors came rushing into the pa in a great
crowd--sailors, soldiers, and Maori all mixed up without any order
whatever. When the pa was entered the soldiers set up a great shout,
which awakening Kawiti, he started up with his eleven men, and saw
his pa was taken. How could it be helped? So he and his men fired a
volley, and then loaded again, and fired a second volley, which was as
much as he could do. Then they ran away and joined Heke at the rear of
the pa, where he called aloud to the Ngapuhi to fight, and not allow
his pa to be taken without a battle.[44]
[Footnote 44: Kawiti seeing that all the other forts had made so good
a defence wished not to abandon his without standing an assault. Heke,
however, who was the best general, saw the place would soon become
quite untenable from the fire of the artillery, and advised an
immediate retreat to the border of the forest; he, however, had great
difficulty to get Kawiti, who had a good deal of the bulldog in him,
to retreat. The old chief, however, _did_ fire a volley in the inside
of the place when the soldiers entered, which he considered saved his
honour, as it could not be said he left his fort without fighting.]
Then the Ngapuhi returned to attack their own pa, which was full of
soldiers, and creeping up behind rocks and trees they began to fire,
and called out in English, "Never mind the soldiers! Never mind the
soldiers!" They did this hoping to enrage the soldiers, and cause them
to leave the pa, and follow them into the forest; but most of the
soldiers remained in the pa firing through loopholes, for the back of
the pa which was now attacked by the Ngapuhi was yet entire, not
having been so much broken down by the big guns as the front side had
been. A few sailors and soldiers, however, went out at a little gate
at the back of the pa, but were no sooner out than they were shot by
the people behind the trees. At last some forty or fifty soldiers got
out, and a fight began outside. But Heke and the main body of his men
remained at a distance beside the thick forest, in hopes that the
party who were fighting the soldiers would soon fall back, and so lead
the soldiers to follow them into the forest, where Heke had his ambush
prepared for them. But these people did not retire as they should have
done, for a report was heard that Kawiti had been killed or taken, and
this enraged them so much that they would not retreat, and they
remained there trying to retake the pa. But they lost many men, for
hundreds were firing at them from loopholes in the pa, besides the
soldiers who were close to them outside. Many soldiers were killed or
wounded who might have escaped being hurt if they had got behind
trees; but these men did not care about covering themselves when they
might have done so. The Maori at one time charged, and there was among
them a young half-caste; he had in his hand a broad, sharp tomahawk
with a long handle, and he rushed upon a sailor, and using both hands
he struck him on the neck, and the head fell over the man's shoulders
nearly cut off. This was the only man killed by stroke of hand in this
fight.
At last Heke sent a man to tell the people to fall back; but they said
they would not do so, but would all die there, for Kawiti had been
taken. Then the messenger told them that Kawiti was safe and well with
Heke, and that he had just seen him; so when they heard this they fell
back at once, but the soldiers did not follow, being restrained by
their different chiefs. So the fight ended, and the Ruapekapeka was
taken, and this was the last fight of the war.
There were killed in this fight of Heke's people twenty-three men, and
Heke wrote their names in a book, and also the names of all others who
had fallen in the war.
How many men the soldiers had killed in the fight I do not know, but I
don't think they lost quite so many as the Maori, for most of them
were firing through the loopholes of the pa and out of the trenches,
and so were well sheltered. One soldier, as I have heard say, was shot
by another, because he was going to run away. I don't think it right
to do this. When a man feels afraid who is ordinarily of good courage,
it is a sign that he will be killed, and he ought to be allowed to go
away. It is bad to disregard omens. When a man feels courageous let
him fight, and he will be fortunate.
Next day, Heke, Kawiti, and all the people began to consult as to what
should be done; for the fort was taken, and they had no provisions,
and there was none at any of their other places--all having been
consumed or wasted during the war, and but little had been planted.
And the people told the chiefs that they could not live on fern root
and fight the soldiers at the same time. They began to say to the
chiefs, "Can shadows carry muskets?" They were much perplexed, and
some proposed to break up into small parties, and go and live with
different tribes who had not taken part in the war, but amongst whom
they had friends or distant relations. After talking over this plan
for some time it was found it would not do, for already some chiefs of
distant tribes had said they would give up any one who came to them to
the Governor, rather than bring a war against themselves. At last it
was proposed to write to the Governor to ask him to make peace. So the
letter was written and sent, but no one expected the Governor would
make peace so quickly. He, however, consented at once to make peace,
and so peace was made, and Heke's people were very glad indeed. But
the chiefs who had been on the side of the soldiers were very sorry,
for had the war been continued a little longer, Heke's people would
have been starved and scattered, and Walker's people could have taken
their land in various places; and, also, after they had been obliged
to scatter about the country to obtain subsistence, many would have
been taken prisoners, and they never would have had courage to fight
again.
When Heke saw that peace was sure to be made, he went away to Tautoro,
and said he did not want peace to be made, but that if the Governor
came to him and asked for peace he would consent. Heke is a man of
many thoughts. So Heke kept at a distance at his own place, and never
made peace with the Governor or Walker, until Walker at last came to
him, and then Heke said that as Walker had come to him there should be
peace, but that until the Governor came also and asked for peace, he
would not consider it fully made.
Well, no one thought that the Governor would go to see Heke, for we
think that whoever goes first to the other, is the party who asks for
peace. But the Governor _did_ go to see Heke, and shook hands with
him, but Heke has never gone to see the Governor; and now the war is
over, and Heke is the greatest man in this Island, and will be KING
by-and-by. All the Europeans are afraid of him, and give him anything
he asks for, or if they refuse he takes it, and no one dare say
anything to him.
Great is the courage of the Maori people! You have now heard how they
made war against the noble people of England, and were not quite
exterminated, as many expected they would be. But Heke, their chief,
is a very knowing man; he is learned even in European knowledge. I
will tell you how he has become possessed of this knowledge, which
enabled him to make war successfully against the soldiers. He has a
European friend who has been a very great warrior--a very experienced
warrior indeed. It was he who overcame the great soldier of France,
Buonaparte, and afterwards in a great sea-fight he defeated and killed
the great war-chief of England, Wellington. Besides, he gained many
other battles by sea and land, and he wrote all his wars in two books.
Now, he lent Heke the first of these books to show him how to fight
with the soldiers, which is the reason he has been so successful, but
if he had had the second book he would have taken Auckland, and been
King of New Zealand long ago; but he will get it by-and-by. I never
saw this book, and Heke never shows it to any one, for he wants to
keep all the knowledge to himself. Now, what are you laughing at? It
is no use to tell me that Wellington is alive yet. Heke's pakeha
killed him long ago--before you were born, perhaps. You are only a
young man; what do you know about it? The Wellington you mean is some
other Wellington; but the great soldier Wellington, of England, was
killed long ago by Heke's pakeha. The Governor is not near so great a
man as this friend of Heke's, and is afraid of him.[45]
[Footnote 45: Hundreds of natives believed firmly in this absurd story
before and during the war. In the present day (1861), when these notes
are written, "Young New Zealand" would only laugh at it. But formerly
this and other equally ridiculous tales were not only believed but had
very serious effects. Heke was not the author of the story, but he
found it to his hand, added the "_books_" to it, and turned it to his
account. His "pakeha friend" is still extant, as well as the other
"pakeha" who endeavoured to prevent Walker's people from taking our
part in the war, but they are not by any means such "great men" as in
the days when it was believed that one of them was the conqueror of
both Wellington and Buonaparte!]
This has been a great talk. What payment are you going to give me?
Give me that bottle of rum. I am _so_ thirsty with talking. Don't
shake your head; I _must_ have it. Oh, how sweet rum is! There is
nothing in the whole world so good. I know a pakeha, who says, if I
will get him a big pot, and some old gun-barrels, he will show me how
to make rum out of corn. Don't take that bottle away. Come, give it
me. You are a chief. Give me the bottle. You are not afraid of the
law. I am a great chief; _I_ am not afraid of the law. I will make
plenty of rum, and sell it to the pakeha, and get all their money, and
I will have a house, and tables, and chairs, and all those sort of
things for people to look at; and when the Governor comes to see me, I
will scatter money all about the floor, so that when the Governor sees
how much more money I have than he has, he will be quite ashamed, and
think himself not near so great a chief as I am. I will have fifty
pakeha servants, and they shall all work for me one day, and I will
make them drunk the next for payment, and the next day they shall
work, and the next get drunk, and there shall not be a watch-house in
the whole land.[46]
[Footnote 46: This _convivial_ scene with my friend the chief is no
fiction, but a faithful relation, like everything else in this book,
of what actually was said and done. It certainly does not come into
the "History of the War," but is inserted just to give some idea of
the state of things in the country districts, and the terms on which
the country settlers manage to exist with their native "friends." The
chief's _speculation_ in the distilling line is faithfully given word
for word, as he explained it to me. But it has never come to anything,
for although he actually got the "pakeha" to come to his place for the
purpose of making "rum" out of corn, when he got him there he
_plucked_ him to such an extent, not leaving him even a blanket on his
bed, that he ran for it, and the distillery in consequence came to
naught.]
The bottle is empty, get me another. Do now. You are my friend. Give
me the key! I will get it myself. You won't! I will break open the
door. I will tell the magistrate you have been giving me rum. You are
a slave. You are _all_ slaves. Your grandfathers have all been put in
the watch-house. You are afraid of the magistrate, the magistrate is
afraid of the Governor, and the Governor is afraid of Heke. You want
to rob us of our country, and to hang us up like dried sharks. You
_can't_. You are not able. You are cowards. _You_ are a coward! Kapai
Heke![47] (Here exit Ngapuhi chief head-foremost on to the grass-plat
before the door, and so ends the history of the war with Heke.)
[Footnote 47: Kapai Heke! tantamount to _Vive_ Heke! _In vino
veritas_--in his cups this stout defender of the pakeha lets out that
he in reality is an admirer of Heke, and in another war would probably
join him, being, as all the natives are, without any exception,
distrustful of the European, and suspecting we intend eventually to
rob them of their country. I think their chief reason for this belief
is that they themselves would treat us in that way were they able,
they being all plunderers and marauders, both by nature and practice,
and so "measure our corn in their own bushel."]
CONCLUSION.
Next morning my friend the chief got up, and shook himself into shape,
and begged a shirt and a pound of tobacco, neither of which I dare
refuse him, and he then took himself off quietly. I have not seen him
since, but received a letter from him the other day, beginning with,
"Great is my love to you," and ordering me to send him by bearer one
red blanket, and one cloth cap with a _gold_ band, as he is going to
Auckland to see the Governor, who he hopes to "talk" a horse and
twenty pounds from, on the strength of his services during the war.
Perhaps when he comes back he may tell me all about his journey, and
what he said to the Governor, and what the Governor said to him, all
of which I will write down in English, as I have this "great talk,"
which is all I am ever likely to get for my cap and blanket. It is to
be hoped the story will be worth the cost.[48]
[Footnote 48: I am happy to be able to announce to the whole world
that my friend the Ngapuhi chief has been to Auckland and returned
safe back, having been extremely well received by the Governor. I have
also to inform my friends that the chief has told me the whole story
of his journey, leaving out _nothing_; he has told me every word he
said to the Governor, and every word the Governor said to him, all of
which I have written in a book for the instruction and improvement of
future ages, together with a plan of attack, whereby Auckland would,
as he thinks, be taken, sacked, and burned, which this friend of mine
made just to wile away the time when not engaged in paying his court
to the Governor. I shall, however, reserve this last history till I
see what fortune this my _wakaka_ may have.]
* * * * *
Since the above was written, I am sorry to say that my old friend has
departed this life. He was, with his brother, shot dead some years ago
in a scuffle about a piece of land. In justice to the memory of my old
and respected friend I am bound to say, that, according to the very
best native authorities, his title to the land was perfectly clear
and good. A sense of impartiality, however, forces me also to declare
that the title of my _other_ friend who shot him, is also as clear as
the sun at noon; there can be no doubt of this. Both have clear
undoubted pedigrees, which prove them directly descended from the
"original proprietor." The only point of any consequence which made
against my friend's title, was the circumstance of his having been
shot dead. This has "made clear," as I am bound to confess, the title
of the other party, which now remains without a flaw. The only thing I
see against them is the fact that, during the last seven years, their
numbers have been much decreased by sickness, while it so happens that
the sons of my old friend, and also his brother's sons, have large
families of stout, healthy-looking boys. Good native casuists, on whom
I can place every reliance, tell me that possibly this may somehow or
other affect the title of the others. I don't know clearly how, for
though I have studied "native tenure" for thirty years, I find I have
even yet made but small progress. Indeed, I have lately begun to
suspect that the subject is altogether of too complicated a nature for
a European understanding. The only safe maxim I can give on native
tenure, after all my study, is as follows:--Every native who is in
actual possession of land, must be held to have a good title till some
one else shows a better, _by kicking him off the premises_.
PAKEHA MAORI.
GLOSSARY.
PAGE 2.
_No hea_--Literally, from whence? Often used as a negative answer to
an inquiry, in which case the words mean that the thing inquired for
is not, or in fact is nowhere.
PAGE 3.
_Mana_--As the meaning of this word is explained in the course of the
narrative, it is only necessary to say that in the sense in which it
is used here, it means dominion or authority.
_Tangi_--A dirge, or song of lamentation for the dead. It was the
custom for the mourners, when singing the _tangi_, to cut themselves
severely on the face, breast, and arms, with sharp flints and shells,
in token of their grief. This custom is still practised, though in a
mitigated form. In past times, the mourners cut themselves dreadfully,
and covered themselves with blood from head to feet. See a description
of a _tangi_ further on.
PAGE 3.
_Pakeha_--An Englishman; a foreigner.
PAGE 10.
_Tupara_--A double gun; an article, in the old times, valued by the
natives above all other earthly riches.
PAGE 11.
_Hahunga_--A _hahunga_ was a funeral ceremony, at which the natives
usually assembled in great numbers, and during which "baked meats"
were disposed of with far less economy than Hamlet gives us to suppose
was observed "in Denmark."
_Kainga_--A native town, or village: their principal head-quarters.
PAGE 12.
_Haere mai!_ _&c._--Sufficiently explained as the native call of
welcome. It is literally an invitation to advance.
PAGE 15.
_Tutua_--A low, worthless, and, above all, a poor, fellow--a "nobody."
PAGE 16.
_A pakeha tutua_--A mean, _poor_ European.
_E aha te pai?_--What is the good (or use) of him? Said in contempt.
PAGE 17.
_Rangatira_--A chief, a gentleman, a warrior. _Rangatira pakeha_--A
foreigner who is a gentleman (not a _tutua_, or nobody, as described
above), a _rich_ foreigner.
PAGE 18.
_Taonga_--Goods; property.
PAGE 21.
_Mere ponamu_--A native weapon made of a rare green stone, and much
valued by the natives.
PAGE 22.
_Taniwha_--A sea monster; more fully described further on.
_Utu_--Revenge, or satisfaction; also payment.
PAGE 26.
_Tino tangata_--A "good man," in the language of the prize-ring; a
warrior; or literally, a very, or perfect man.
PAGE 36.
_Taua_--A war party; or war expedition.
PAGE 46.
_Tena koutou_; or, _Tenara ko koutou_--The Maori form of salutation,
equivalent to our "How do you do?"
PAGE 49.
_Na! Na! mate rawa!_--This is the battle cry by which a warrior
proclaims, exultingly and tauntingly, the death of one of the enemy.
PAGE 62.
_Torere._--An unfathomable cave, or pit, in the rocky mountains, where
the bones of the dead, after remaining a certain time in the first
burying place, are removed to and thrown in, and so finally disposed
of.
PAGE 80.
_Eaha mau_--What's that to you?
PAGE 130.
_Jacky Poto._--Short Jack; or Stumpy Jack.
PAGE 131.
_Tu ngarahu._--This is a muster, or review, made to ascertain the
numbers and condition of a native force; generally made before the
starting of an expedition. It is, also, often held as a military
spectacle, or exhibition, of the force of a tribe when they happen to
be visited by strangers of importance: the war dance is gone through
on these occasions, and speeches declaratory of war, or welcome, as
the case may be, made to the visitors. The "review of the Taniwha,"
witnessed by the Ngati Kuri, was possibly a herd of sea lions, or sea
elephants; animals scarcely ever seen on the coast of that part of New
Zealand, and, therefore, from their strange and hideous appearance, at
once set down as an army of Taniwha. One man only was, at the defeat
of the Ngati Kuri, on Motiti, rescued to tell the tale.
PAGE 132.
_Bare Motiti_--The island of Motiti is often called "_Motiti wahie
kore,"_ as descriptive of the want of timber, or bareness of the
island. A more fiercely contested battle, perhaps, was never fought
than that on Motiti, in which the Ngati Kuri were destroyed.
PAGE 149.
_Ki au te mataika_--I have the _mataika_. The first man killed in a
battle was called the _mataika_. To kill the _mataika_, or first man,
was counted a very high honour, and the most extraordinary exertions
were made to obtain it. The writer once saw a young warrior, when
rushing with his tribe against the enemy, rendered almost frantic by
perceiving that another section of the tribe would, in spite of all
his efforts, be engaged first, and gain the honour of killing the
_mataika_. In this emergency he, as he rushed on, cut down with a
furious blow of his tomahawk, a sapling which stood in his way, and
gave the cry which claims the _mataika_. After the battle, the
circumstances of this question in Maori chivalry having been fully
considered by the elder warriors, it was decided that the sapling tree
should, in this case, be held to be the true _mataika_, and that the
young man who cut it down should always claim, without question, to
have killed, or as the natives say "caught," the _mataika_ of that
battle.
PAGE 152.
_Toa_--A warrior of preeminent courage; a hero.
PAGE 171.
_Kia Kotahi ki te ao! Kia kotahi ki te po!_--A close translation would
not give the meaning to the English reader. By these words the dying
person is conjured to cling to life, but as they are never spoken
until the person to whom they are addressed is actually expiring, they
seemed to me to contain a horrid mockery, though to the native they no
doubt appear the promptings of an affectionate and anxious solicitude.
They are also supposed to contain a certain mystical meaning.