NGATOKORUA PA.
Departure from Ruakaka--A legend--Rough forest--Crossing the
Manganui-a-te-Ao--Scenery of the river--Mount Towai--The plains
in sight--Rapid rise in the country--Ruapehu from the west--The
Waimarino plains--Arrival at the _pa_--The chief's family--A
Hauhau chief--_Inter alia_--Pehi on the decay of the Maoris--A
war-dance--The mere.
We left Ruakaka with the best wishes of the natives, Te Pareoterangi
riding out some distance with us to put us in the right direction.
Our course now lay easterly up the valley of the Manganui-a-te-Ao,
and for thirty miles through another portion of the dense forest by
which we had come to reach the settlement, but by a route far more
difficult to travel, according to the account given to us of the
country by the natives, who informed us that we should have to cross
the Manganui-a-te-Ao ten times at various points, besides other streams
and innumerable creeks, before we could again reach the open country to
the north of Ruapehu. The river was still so flooded that the natives
earnestly advised us to remain, old Hinepareoterangi remarking, in her
jocose way, "If when you are gone the skies open and the great rains
descend, I will sit by the rushing waters and wait for your horses and
saddles; you will make splendid food for the eels." Notwithstanding
this grim joke of the chieftainess of the "heavenly crest," as the
clouds were still gathering, and another flood might detain us a week
or perhaps a month at Ruakaka, and possibly prevent us from ever
reaching Alexandra by the course we had planned, we determined to make
a desperate effort to push through. We therefore set out without delay,
and crossed the Manganui-a-te-Ao for the first time about a mile below
the settlement, at a very picturesque spot, but we had to descend
nearly 100 feet to the crossing-place, beyond which a higher bend of
the river appeared to be nearly 100 feet above us.
After gaining the opposite side we mounted above the stream to a bold
bluff, where once stood a _pa_ called Rotua, which was formerly one of
the most formidable strongholds of the valley, and Te Pareoterangi,
when he pointed it out, told us of an interesting legend connected
with it. On one occasion in years gone by the _pa_ was occupied by two
tribes, named respectively the Ngatitamakana and Ngatiatamire. Being at
war with other tribes, on one stormy night they were suddenly surprised
by the enemy under a noted chief named Tama Turaki, when, seeing all
chance of escape hopeless, they made a rope of native flax, and letting
themselves down the steep cliffs into the river, took up their position
in a stronghold further down the stream called Pukeatua. When, on the
following day, Tama Turaki found how the enemy had escaped, he followed
them with his tribe down the river in canoes, but the Ngatitamakana and
Ngatiatamire, being alive to his movements, conceived the bold idea
of consigning their savage pursuer into eternity by one fell swoop.
With this chivalrous aim in view, they hauled an enormous mass of rock
to the edge of the cliff on which the _pa_ was situated, and below
which the canoes of the enemy would pass, and just as they appeared
underneath the precipice the rock was hurled from above, and with a
thundering crash completely annihilated Tama Turaki and his band.
This enormous mass of rock, which may still be seen in the river, is
known to the natives as Parekura Huripari,[66] and is looked upon by
them even unto this day with that singular display of superstitious
veneration which forms one of the most marked characteristics of the
Maori race.
When Te Pareoterangi left us, which was about two miles out of the
settlement, he told us that we had a dangerous and difficult road
to go, and that it would be necessary to make all speed, lest the
flood should overtake us, and in that event he added, with true Maori
lightheartedness, "If the river don't land you again at Ruakaka you may
have to eat your horses." At the fourth crossing-place we had already
mounted to an altitude of 1200 feet, but to get to this point we had
traversed a hilly, broken region, covered in every direction with a
dense growth of _rimu_-trees. Throughout this portion of the country,
not only did the _rata_-vines coil about the giants of the forest in
every direction, but the "supplejacks" kept pulling us up at every
turn, while the rain, now descending in torrents, rendered the ground
and enormous roots of the trees which formed a complete network beneath
our feet, as slippery as glass.
Although we could only lead our horses through the forest, it was
necessary to ride them whenever we came to the crossing-places of the
Manganui-a-te-Ao, since at these points the water was in most places
over their backs, and often nearly over their heads, when they got
into the big holes that everywhere dotted the rugged channel of the
river. At the sixth crossing-place we had mounted to an altitude of
1460 feet, and here we were nearly coming to grief. The course across
the river was, like all other places, strewn in every direction with
enormous masses of rock, and the water came sweeping swiftly round
a great bend, where the cliffs rose up like a stupendous wall on
each side. The river here was about 100 feet wide, and in order to
get across, it was necessary for our horses to climb over a series
of huge boulders, and then on to the top of a big rock with a flat
top, from which they had to plunge off into a deep water-hole, with
a rapid only a few feet distant on the lower side. Turner, on his
plucky pony, took the first leap, and my own horse following, the snowy
waters, fresh from the glaciers of Ruapehu, nearly swept us out of
our saddles, and, for a moment, it seemed as if the ominous joke made
by old Hinepareoterangi before our departure, were about to become
true. At the seventh crossing-place the bed of the river was at an
altitude of 1541 feet, and here, as usual, we had fresh difficulties to
encounter. The masses of rock were of great size, and, while most of
the larger impediments of this nature were of trachytic formation, I
noticed several water-worn boulders, composed of a fossiliferous rock,
containing particles of shells, but all of which were too broken to be
easily recognizable. These boulders appeared to have been washed down
by the river for some distance.
All along the course of the Manganui-a-te-Ao the scenery was of the
wildest description; the steep cliffs and mountains towering above us
in the grandest confusion. In many places the colossal trees reached
their broad branches over the precipices that bordered the stream, in a
vivid canopy of green, while the foaming cascades beneath echoed with
a roaring sound through the deep valleys as the blue, dancing waters
swept onward in their precipitous course along the winding, rock-bound
ravine that formed the channel of this remarkable river.
Leaving the course of the river for a time, we made a wide _détour_
to the north, and passed along a range of rugged mountains which
marked an altitude of 2900 feet above the level of the sea. Here the
whole country was very broken, and it was nothing but one continuous
ridge after ridge and gully after gully, while we had to take our
horses along precipices where there was scarcely room for them to move
along, especially where they had to round the trunks and roots of the
stupendous _towai_-trees, which grew in wonderful luxuriance in this
elevated region. Night fairly overtook us on the mountains at a point
which marked an altitude of 3500 feet above the level of the sea. The
rain poured down incessantly, and we could hear the river roaring in
the distance somewhere beneath us, although we had not the remotest
idea where we were. We named this elevated point "Mount Towai," on
account of a magnificent tree of that species which grew close to the
spot where we pitched our tent.
We were up by the first streak of dawn, and, climbing a tree that
stretched out its trunk over the precipitous sides of Mount Towai,
looked anxiously to see whether we could get a glimpse of the open
plains, which we knew to be somewhere in the east. Beneath us wound the
deep ravines, covered with their primeval forests, and above the hills
in the distance we got a glance at a patch of open country through the
dense foliage. This seemed to us like a bright oasis, which had at last
come to break the dull monotony of the forest wilderness. We struck
camp at once, and descending 500 feet by a steep and slippery incline,
we gained the margin of the Manganui-a-te-Ao, and crossed the winding
stream for the ninth time, as it rolled down a deep gorge from its
source in the regions of eternal snow, as rugged and as rapid as ever.
Once on the opposite side, we climbed a steep ascent, and gained the
broad, open table-land at an altitude of 2850 feet. Thus, to arrive at
this elevation from Ruakaka, we had travelled over hills and mountains
the whole way, and yet in a distance of about thirty miles the country
had risen over 2000 feet from our point of departure, which stood at an
altitude of 800 feet.
Now that we had done eighty miles of forest travelling since we had
left the Murimotu Plains to reach the valley of the Whanganui, and
had spent eight days in the primeval wilderness, it is impossible to
describe with what delight we hailed the grand open country before
us. During our journey through the forest--that is to say, since we
first entered it from the Murimotu Plains--the weather had been mostly
wet, and even when the sun shone, the moisture kept dripping from
the trees like a perpetual shower-bath, and the dank, heavy feeling
of the air, caused by the endless vegetation through which we could
never see a hundred yards ahead, produced in the long-run a feeling
of intense weariness. Now, however, all nature looked radiant before
us, and the colossal form of Ruapehu, rising close to us on our right,
looked grander than ever. We now viewed the great mountain from the
north-west, an aspect from which we had not beheld it before, and the
forests on its sides were interspersed with patches of open country,
while the snow since last we had beheld it had crept down almost to
the base, and, mingling with the green of the vegetation, produced the
most beautiful effect as the mists of morning rolled away beneath the
glowing power of the sun.
The fine grassy expanse covered with a thick coating of white frost we
had now entered, we afterwards found was known to the natives as the
Waimarino, from the name of the river running through it, and which had
its source in Haurungatahi, a large, densely wooded mountain which we
could see in the distance to our right, and which formed an attractive
and beautiful object in the surrounding scenery. These plains
immediately to the north-west of Ruapehu were the same we had seen in
this direction some weeks before, when making the ascent of Tongariro.
We had been told by the natives at Ruakaka that if we kept across the
plains to the south-east for about ten miles in the direction of Mount
Haurungatahi, we should reach Ngatokorua, the _pa_ of Pehi Hetau Turoa,
one of the principal chiefs of the Whanganui tribes. We therefore
directed our course towards this place, the plains as we rode along
opening out into park-like expanses, fringed with dense forests on
either side.
When we arrived at the _pa_, early in the day, we were received by Pehi
and his people with a true Maori welcome.
One of the most remarkable features in connection with this place was
that everything about it had a neat and tidy appearance, unlike all
other settlements we had seen. It was situated at the foot of Mount
Haurungatahi, whose steep sides, clothed with dense forests, towered up
behind it. This mountain, we learned, was personified by the Maoris as
the wife of Ruapehu. The view in every direction from the settlement
was most enchanting, forest, plain, and mountain all combining to add
variety to the surroundings.
We were given comfortable quarters in the _wharepuni_ in which the
chief's family dwelt, and which consisted of a spacious building
constructed of _totara_, and spread about with clean white mats. We
found Pehi's family to consist of Ngaruma, his wife, a pleasant woman
with an almost Grecian cast of countenance, although a pure Maori;
Te Wao, the chief's henchman, and his wife Ngawini; Turongoiti, with
his wife Rauia; Rene, another native; and Hinekura, Rora, and Pureti,
the chief's three daughters. We were invited by Pehi to remain as
long as we liked, and the three days we sojourned with the old chief
formed the most agreeable stage of our long journey. There was only
one drawback, and that was that we had to sleep with thirteen others
in the _wharepuni_, and as there were always two charcoal fires kept
burning, the heat was at times--especially during the first part of
the night--intolerable, the thermometer often reaching as high as
100° Fahr., while outside it indicated from four to six degrees below
freezing-point. Unfortunately, it was always dark by six o'clock in the
evening, when the _wharepuni_ was closely fastened up, and we would
have to remain twelve hours in the stifling atmosphere until daylight.
At the first glance it struck me that Pehi Hetau Turoa looked and
walked a chief. Taken altogether, he was the finest specimen of his
race I had ever seen. In age he appeared to be sixty, or thereabouts,
but his stature was that of a well-conditioned athlete. He stood about
six feet three, as upright as a dart, big-boned and muscular, and in
his younger days he had the reputation of being one of the strongest
men of his time. His well-formed features were cast in the true Maori
mould, and he had a singularly massive and well-shaped head. Over his
closely clipped beard hung a thick moustache, and above this, again,
the blue tattooed lines wound round his nostrils, then over his face,
and ended in small circles over his brows. During the war Pehi had been
a noted Hauhau leader, but, unlike most of the warriors of his race I
had met with, he, as if anxious to preserve his military renown, moved
about with the air of a well-drilled soldier, while he possessed at all
times and in all his actions that genial yet dignified tone of manner
so characteristic of the Maori of the old school.
Pehi was at all times a host in himself, and being a man of singularly
original and witty train of thought, his conversation was very amusing.
Of an evening, when the _wharepuni_ was closed in, the whole _hapu_
would assemble, and squatting down on their mats round the small
charcoal fire, the old chief would relate the most singular tales,
and ask the most extraordinary questions. He recounted to us some
of his experiences in the Maori war, and then asked what nation was
at present at war with England? When informed that we were at that
time having a brush with Egypt, he inquired if that was not the place
where Christ was crucified, and when told that that incident occurred
in a neighbouring country, he ejaculated, "Ah, I know I was not far
out; a mile or two make no difference in a big event like that." He
next inquired what manner of men the Egyptians were, and whether they
danced the _haka_; and when I stated that the Egyptian dancing-girls
went through gyrations very similar to those of their dark sisters
at the antipodes, he replied, "Then if they dance the _haka_ we must
be descended from them. I believe the Maoris are one of the lost
tribes of Israel." He asked many questions about England, and the
descriptions of London especially amused him, and when told that they
had a railway there running underground, he expressed great surprise,
and asked how it was that the _taniwha_ we called the devil didn't
object to underground railways. He appeared very anxious to learn all
about the government of England, and when I had given him a _résumé_
of parliamentary procedure, he pointed towards Te Wao, his henchman,
who, strange to say for a Maori, was perfectly bald, and demanded,
in a serio-comic way, whether bald-headed men were allowed to sit in
the British Parliament, and when I pointed out that a bald-headed man
enjoyed equal parliamentary privileges with one having his head covered
with hair, he replied that the Maoris always looked with suspicion
on bald-headed men. All joined in the laugh at this remark, with the
exception of Pehi, who always looked particularly fierce and grim when
he cracked his jokes or hurled his shafts of satire.
Although Pehi was singularly jocund for a man of his age, yet when a
serious question was put to him he knew how to answer it in a clear and
deliberate way; and when I got Turner to induce the _rangatira_ to give
the apparent reason for the rapid decay of his race, he spoke thus:
"In former times we lived differently; each tribe had its territory.
We lived in _pas_ placed high upon the mountains. The men looked to
war as their only occupation, and the women and the young people
cultivated the fields. We were a strong and a healthy people then.
When the _pakeha_ came, everything began to die away, even the natural
animals of the country. Formerly, when we went into a forest and stood
under a tree, we could not hear ourselves speak for the noise of the
birds; every tree was full of them. Then we had pigeons and everything
in plenty; now many of the birds have died out. A few years ago there
was a big green parrot in these forests; now it is gone, and lots of
other things have gradually faded away. In those times the fields were
well tilled, there was always plenty of provisions, and we wore few
clothes, only our own mats of feathers. Then the missionaries came and
took our children from the fields, and taught them to sing hymns; they
changed their minds, and the fields were untilled. The children came
home and quoted Gospel on an empty stomach. Then came the war between
the _pakeha_ and the Maori that split up our homes, and made one tribe
fight against another; and after the war came the _pakeha_ settlers,
who took our lands, taught us to drink, and to smoke, and made us wear
clothes that brought on disease. What race," said the old chief, "could
stand against that. The Maori," he continued, "is passing away like
the _kiwi_, the _tui_, and many other things, and by-and-by they will
disappear just as the leaves of the trees, and nothing will remain to
tell of them but the names of their mountains and their rivers."
[Illustration: A CHIEF ARMED WITH "MERE" AND "HUATA."]
One morning, when we were sunning ourselves in front of the
_wharepuni_, I asked Pehi how the Maoris fought in battle. Without a
moment's hesitation he jumped up from where he had been seated, and,
casting aside his cape and appearing in nothing but a cloth around
his loins, entered a small _whare_, and emerged an instant afterwards
with a _huata_, or short spear, beautifully carved at the top to
represent a grotesque human head, from the mouth of which the tongue
protruded about three inches in the form of a spear-blade, while just
below the head was a long tuft of white dog's-hair bound with flax
stained a bright red. The shaft of the implement, made of _totara_
wood, and highly polished, was rounded at the top part, but widened
out in an oval form with sharp, bevelled edges towards the bottom
end. Flourishing this weapon about in the wildest way, jumping into
the air, making the most hideous grimaces, thrusting out his tongue,
and turning up his eyes till nothing but the whites were visible, the
old warrior yelled and danced about like a madman, now throwing up
his _huata_ in the air and catching it again, now sweeping it round
in a way that seemed to carry death in every stroke, the savage,
tattooed countenance of the old _rangatira_ working the while in a most
diabolical fashion. He made terrific and frantic cuts at each of our
heads, but so dexterous was he in the manipulation of his weapon that
he arrested it in every instance when within the eighth of an inch of
our skulls--which he jocosely told us were not thick enough to hurt the
_huata_.
[Illustration: A "MERE."]
When questioned as to the use of the _mere_, he informed us that it
was seldom used in war, except by the chiefs, and that it was more an
emblem of rank which was handed down as an heirloom in a tribe. The
greenstone _mere_ was so highly prized that to secure one in battle
appeared to be considered as an act of glory, just as the taking of
a stand of colours might be with us. The _mere_ was, however, always
considered as a formidable weapon in fight, as a blow from it, if
properly dealt, would break any bone in a man's body. When using it,
it was customary to aim at the head. It was also used by the chiefs to
cleave the skulls of the captured. He told us that the Maoris had never
accustomed themselves to the use of the bow and arrow, and that, when
fighting, they depended principally upon the _huata_ and other spears,
until the Europeans taught them the use of fire-arms.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 66: Literally, the battle-ground where the rock was thrown.]