THE LAND OF PROMISE
When the period of feasting and enjoyment, which invariably followed
upon the return of a successful Maori war party, had terminated at
Kawhia, Te Rauparaha immediately became involved in a fresh struggle
with Waikato. The cause of the hostility was remote; but, as Waikato
had vowed to drive him out, no pretext was too slight upon which to
base a quarrel. Thus the killing of one of their chiefs by a Taranaki
warrior, to whom Te Rauparaha was related, was sufficient to justify
the marching of a large war party against him. Their force advanced in
two sections: the one came down the inland track, and the other, which
was to actively engage Te Rauparaha, entered Kawhia from the sea. Two
_pas_, Tau-mata-Kauae and Te Kawau, speedily fell before the
invaders, and again Ngati-Toa were defeated at the battle of Te
Karaka, on the borders of Lake Taharoa, after an heroic struggle, in
which it is said that three hundred Ngati-Toa fought more than a
thousand Waikatos. These disasters were indeed darkening the outlook
for Ngati-Toa, and the position has been graphically described by one
native historian, who states that "the losses of the tribe of Te
Rauparaha were very great; by day and by night they were killed by
Ngati-Pou." Success had also attended the arms of the section of
Waikato who, under Te Wherowhero, had swept through the Waipa Valley
and across the forest plateau until they reached the Wai-Kawau
_pa_ on the sea-coast, just north of the Mokau River. This they
stormed and sacked by force of overpowering numbers, and, surfeited
with victory, they united with their comrades at Te Karaka, and then
triumphantly marched home.
With so many of his _pas_ obliterated and his warriors slain, Te
Rauparaha retired upon Te Arawi, a coastal stronghold built upon the
summit of a forbidding-looking rock, which at full tide is completely
surrounded by a breaking sea. Here he had leisure to reflect upon the
lessening radius of his freedom and to formulate his plans for
extricating his people from a position of increasing peril; and we may
fairly assume that it was now that his final decision to migrate from
Kawhia to Kapiti was taken. Once resolved on this course, he applied
himself systematically to the task of persuading his people to enter
into the spirit of the scheme, over which he himself had become so
enthusiastic, and which he now deemed necessary to their safety. The
task was by no means a simple one, for the impending danger was not so
apparent to all the tribe as it was to their chief; and, moreover,
there centred in the spot which he was asking them to leave the
traditions and associations of all the centuries which had passed
since their forefathers had first landed there from the pilgrim canoe.
They knew each nook and corner, from the caves to the hill-tops, every
point of which spoke to them of the beloved past. Here a rock which
had been a trysting-place in some tragic love affair, there a haunt of
spirits, yonder a burying-ground made sacred by the bones of their
ancestors, and there again a battlefield hallowed by the memory of the
fallen. Each of these was a tie dear to the Maori; and they were loath
to leave all that linked them to the past and face a future full of
doubt and uncertainty.
But the confidence which Te Rauparaha had inspired, and the prospect
of guns and ammunition in abundance, gradually overcame these
sentimental objections; and before long the Ngati-Toa people agreed to
follow their chief whithersoever he might lead. Te Rauparaha was,
however, prudent enough to recognise that his own section of the
tribe, though brave at heart, were few in numbers for so serious an
undertaking as the conquest of a new territory. As soon, therefore, as
he had secured the consent of his own tribe, he paid a visit to
Maungatautari, for the purpose of obtaining the co-operation of
Ngati-Raukawa. With them he was no more successful at first than he
had been with his own people. He pointed out their liability to
attack, the difficulty in obtaining guns, shut out as they were from
communication with the whalers, and the prospect of an easy victory
over the weakened tribes of the coast. But they were reluctant to give
up all that they possessed for a visionary and problematical success,
and it was not till quite a year later that he was able even partially
to break down their resistance. In pressing his claims upon the
Ngati-Raukawa, he was materially aided by a somewhat romantic incident
which occurred during his stay at Maungatautari. Although his mother
was a Ngati-Raukawa woman, and by virtue of that fact he could claim
chieftainship amongst them, Te Rauparaha was not regarded as a
particularly brilliant star in their peerage; but what he lacked in
pedigree was more than compensated for by his mental initiative and
personal courage. Conscious of his own power, he never lost an
opportunity of impressing it upon others; and it is therefore not a
matter for surprise that he made the death of the Ngati-Raukawa chief
the occasion of advancing his own claims to leadership.
[Illustration: _Photo by Jackson._
TE ARAWI PA, KAWHIA.
From which the Ngati-Toa migration commenced.]
Thus it was a fortunate circumstance for him that, while he was
advocating the conquest of Kapiti, Hape Taurangi, the great chief of
Maungatautari, was seized with a fatal illness, and, while the whole
tribe sat silently waiting for the end, the question of succession
seemed to trouble him, as he probably realised the absence of a
master-mind amongst his own sons. To them he put the question: "Can
you tread in my steps and lead my people to victory? Can you uphold
the honour of the tribe?" To these interrogations not one of his sons
replied, and the silent suspense remained unbroken, until Te
Rauparaha, springing from the ring of warriors, exclaimed, "I am able
to tread in your steps, and even do that which you could not do." The
apparent presumption of this speech was lost in the general
satisfaction, and, when Hape passed into the Great Beyond, Te
Rauparaha took over his wives and his leadership, the latter of which
he retained to his dying day.[48] But the measure of authority which
had passed to him on the death of Hape did not include the sole
direction of Ngati-Raukawa's affairs. The tribe still looked to their
natural leaders for guidance in domestic matters, and the new
influence gained by Te Rauparaha in their councils, though
considerable, was not sufficient to overcome the obduracy of the tribe
towards what they chose to regard as his chimerical proposal.
Nothing daunted, however, by the refusal of his kinsmen to participate
in his bold enterprise, Te Rauparaha proceeded with patient
deliberation to make his own arrangements. These involved the most
careful planning and delicate negotiation, for failure in any one
direction might wreck the whole scheme. The first consideration was to
secure safe conduct for his people through the territory of the
Taranaki tribes, and the establishment of resting-places where the
very old and very young could recover their strength, and where
sufficient food could be grown to carry them on to the next point of
vantage. To this end negotiations were entered into with the Ngati-Awa
and Ngati-Tama chiefs, who were more or less connected with Ngati-Toa
by inter-marriage. It would, however, be a mistake to elevate this
racial relationship into a bond of sincere friendship between these
tribes, for neither would have hesitated long about a proposal to
destroy the other, had a favourable opportunity presented itself.
Their attitude towards each other was distinctly one of armed
neutrality, which at any moment might have broken out into open
rupture. But even this negative attitude of the tribes proved useful
to Te Rauparaha, as it enabled him to approach Ngati-Awa and
Ngati-Tama with at least the semblance of friendship, while it
deprived them of open hostility as a reason for refusing his requests.
The concessions which the Ngati-Toa leader asked for were therefore
granted, though grudgingly; but he could no more persuade Ngati-Awa to
go with him than he could impress the Ngati-Raukawa; and when he
reminded them of the change which was coming over the system of Maori
warfare, and the weakness in which they would be left by his
departure, they laughed at his misgivings, boasted of their ancient
_mana_, and told him that his fears were altogether unworthy of a
chief of his standing. How dearly they paid for their lack of
foresight is told in the fall of Puke-rangiora _pa_ a few years later,
when the Waikatos swept down upon them and drove them flying into the
arms of the man whose counsel they had so carelessly despised.
Having thus diplomatically arranged an open road for the passage of
his people to the south, he found it equally essential to secure an
unmolested departure from the north. He therefore appreciated the
necessity of making terms with his old enemy, Te Wherowhero, of
Waikato, and in this important negotiation he availed himself of the
services of two Ngati-Mania-poto chiefs, who occupied the country
close to Kawhia and were on friendly terms with Te Wherowhero. These
chiefs paved the way for a conference, at which Te Rauparaha appears
to have been unusually candid with his old antagonist. He frankly
unfolded to him the details of his proposed migration, and, in
consideration of Te Wherowhero's guaranteeing him immunity from
attack, he, on his part, agreed to cede the whole of the Ngati-Toa
lands to the Waikato tribes after his people had vacated them. Such
easy acquisition of a valuable piece of country was not without its
influence upon Te Wherowhero. But he was even more impressed by its
strategic than by its inherent value. The migration of Ngati-Toa
would rid him of a troublesome enemy on the west, and enable him to
concentrate all his forces on his eastern frontier, where he would be
the better able to resist the aggressions of that other remarkable
figure in Maori history, Te Waharoa, should it ever occur to that
warrior to attack him. On the understanding, then, that Kawhia was to
be formally ceded to him, Te Wherowhero undertook not to molest the
migrating tribe, either during their preparations or on the actual
march.
The question of immunity from attack having been thus satisfactorily
disposed of, the next matter which Te Rauparaha had to consider was
the securing of an adequate supply of provisions for his people during
their pilgrimage. As it was impossible to complete the journey in a
single season, it was necessary not only that large quantities of food
should be carried with them, but that planting-places should be
established at various points along the route of march, where these
supplies could be renewed from time to time. None of these details
were overlooked, but all were worked out with mathematical exactitude
by the consummate organiser in whose brain the migration had been
planned; and the smoothness and precision with which these precautions
dovetailed together furnish a remarkable example of high organising
capacity. As a final preparation, it was necessary that the
disposition of his fighting men should receive some attention, because
he could not hope to conceal his real purpose from the people whose
country he was about to invade. It is true he did not anticipate any
serious opposition, because the defeats inflicted upon them by the
recent expedition under Tuwhare, Waka Nene, Patuone, and himself had
so reduced their strength as to render serious opposition impossible;
but, in view of the limited force at his command, and the unlikelihood
of increasing it, unnecessary waste had to be guarded against. He
therefore divided his warriors into suitable sections, and, appointing
a sub-chief to lead each company, he retained the supreme command of
affairs in his own hands. The carrying out of these varied
preparations had now occupied several months, and when all was ripe
for departure he paid a last visit to the surrounding tribes and
chiefs--to Kukutai, of Lower Waikato, to Pehi-Tukorehu, of
Ngati-Mania-poto, to Te Kanawa, of Waikato, bidding them good-bye,
and, as an example in good faith, he kept his word to Te Wherowhero,
saying to that chief: "Farewell! remain on our land at Kawhia; I am
going to take Kapiti for myself: do not follow me." At Mungatautari a
final effort was made to induce the Ngati-Raukawa to join him; but,
although there were evidences of weakening resistance, he had still to
wait several months before their objections were so far overcome as to
permit him any measure of hope that they would yet yield and follow
him. The tour of leave-taking at an end, Te Rauparaha returned to his
_pa_ at Te Arawi, and there summoned his people to prepare for the
fateful march. When all was ready, the blazing flaxstick was put to
the walls of the great carved house which had adorned the _pa_, and as
the smoke of its destruction arose, the whole tribe of fifteen hundred
souls passed through the gate which they were never again to enter.
In the case of unlettered peoples there is necessarily some difficulty
in determining the precise periods at which important incidents in
their history have occurred; and in this instance we have nothing to
guide us except the arrangement and comparison of subsequent events.
By this mode of reasoning we are led to the conclusion that the
migration from Kawhia must have occurred during the latter months of
the year 1821. But, whatever obscurity rests upon this point,
tradition is clear[49] that the circumstances under which the exodus
commenced were singularly auspicious. The day broke with a cloudless
sky, and, as the sun rose into the blue dome, the landscape for miles
was lit by the rosy tints of morn, rendering every peak and valley
more beautiful. On the route of march lay the hill of Moeatoa, and to
its summit the pilgrims climbed, in order to take a last fond look at
their ancient home. As they turned and gazed upon old Kawhia the
memories of the past came crowding back upon them, and it is easy to
understand their deep manifestations of sorrow at leaving their
ancestral domain. The softer sentiments associated with home and
country are not the exclusive prerogative of civilised beings. These
people, savage and ruthless though they were, thrilled with the same
patriotic feeling which prompted the Prophet of Israel to exclaim: "If
I forget thee, O Jerusalem! may my right hand forget her cunning." And
although their form of expressing it was neither so beautiful nor so
poetical, they were, nevertheless, quite as sincere when they cried
upon the mountain-side: "Kawhia, remain here! The people of Kawhia are
going to Kapiti, to Waipounamu." "The love of a New Zealander for his
land is not the love of a child for his toys," says a well-known
writer.[50] "His title is connected with many and powerful
associations in his mind, his affection for the homes of his fathers
being connected with their deeds of bravery, with the feats of their
boyhood, and the long rest of his ancestors for generations." And
there is no reason to suppose that these feelings were less active in
the Ngati-Toa at such a moment than they were in other Maori tribes.
The closing scene in the life of the Ngati-Toa at
Kawhia has been beautifully described by Thomas
Bracken, whose word-picture of the scene on Moeatoa
Hill is amongst the finest that came from his poetic
pen:--
"Beneath the purple canopy of morn,
That hung above Kawhia's placid sheet
Of waters crystalline, arose on high
The golden shield of God, on azure field,
With crimson tassels dipping in the sea!
And from its burnished face a shower of rays
Shot up the hills and gilt their spires and peaks
In lambent sheen, until the turrets seemed
Like precious ornaments of purest gold
On mighty altars raised by giant priests
In olden times, to offer sacred fire
As sacrifice unto the Fount of Light,
From whence the planets and the myriad stars
Drink their effulgence!
In the wild ravines
And gorges deep, the limpid babbling creeks
Sang matins as they left their mother hills
To mingle in united waters, where
They lost their little selves, and merged in one
Pellucid flood that gathered stronger life
From day to day! as God's great human church,
Now building on the earth shall gather all
The little sects and creeds and small beliefs
That split mankind into a thousand parts,
And merge them in one universal flood
Of boundless charity.
The dazzling points
Of morning's lances pierced the bursting hearts
Of all the flow'rets on the fertile slopes,
And waked red Kawhai's drops from sleep
And shook the dew buds from the Rata's lids,
Until its blossoms opened up their breasts
And gave their fragrance to the early breeze
That played amongst the Koromiko's leaves,
And stole the rich Tawhiri's sweet perfume,
And strung the flax-leaves into merry tune
To woo the Bell-bird from his nest, to ring
The Tui up to sing his morning hymns.
The scene was made for man, not savage man,
The cunningest of brutes, the crafty king
Of beasts! but Man the Spiritualised,
With all the light of knowledge in his brain,
With all the light of love within his heart!
And yet they were but savages who stood
On Moeatoa's hill, above the scene,
Mere savages, a step beyond the brute!
But still there were bright sparks of God-lit fire
Within their breasts! they loved their native vales
With heart and soul! for they had hearts and souls
Far nobler than some milk-faced races who
Have basked 'neath Calv'ry's sun for ages long,
And yet lie grov'lling in the nations' rear,
With hearts encased in earth too coarse and hard
For Calv'ry's glorious light to penetrate.
Poor savages! that Orient had not yet
Shed its benignant rays upon their souls,
To melt the dross that dragged them down to earth
In carnal bonds! they knew not yet the road
To reach the standard of their better selves.
Yet they were men in all save this! brave men
With patriots' hearts, for as they stood and gazed
O'er fair Kawhia's hills and vales
That stretched into the sea, o'er which their sires
In ages past sailed from Hawaiki's shores,
The tears ran down their tattooed cheeks, and sobs
Welled from their bosoms, for they loved the land
With all the love intense a Maori feels
For childhood's home! The hist'ry of their tribe
Was written there on every rock and hill
That sentinelled the scene, for these had known
Their deeds of prowess, and their fathers' deeds
Of valour! And the caverns held the bones
Of those from whom they'd sprung! Their legends wild,
And weird traditions, chained them to the place,
And ere they burst those links of love they gave
A long sad look on each familiar spot
And wailed above Kawhia's lovely vale:
Oh! Kawhia, remain,
Cavern, gorge, and bay,
Valley, and hill, and plain--
We are going away.
Oh! Kawhia, remain,
Take our tears and our sighs;
Spirits of heroes slain,
Rise up from Reinga, rise.
Oh! Kawhia, remain,
With thee, Tawhaki, stay;
Long may he o'er thee reign--
We are going away."
The first stage of the journey ended with the close of the fourth day,
when the _pa_ of Puohoki was reached; and here Te Rauparaha
decided to leave his wife Akau[51] and a number of the women and
children under a suitable guard, while he and the bulk of the people
pushed on as far as Waitara. Here they were received by the Ngati-Tama
and Ngati-Awa tribes, in whose _pas_ they were quartered for the
season; and, except that a spirit of parsimony seemed to pervade their
welcome, they had every reason to feel rejoiced at the success which
up to this moment had attended their venture.[52] After the lapse of a
brief period spent in perfecting his arrangements, Te Rauparaha
decided to return for his wife and her companions, and on reaching the
_pa_ where they were staying he learned to his great joy that
Akau had borne him a son. This infant lived to be the well-known
missionary chief, Tamihana te Rauparaha. Against the advice of his
tribe, Rauparaha had only taken a band of twenty warriors with him,
and on the journey back to Waitara his strategic abilities were tested
to the full to escape annihilation. Three days after his arrival he
left on his return journey, carrying his infant son in a basket on his
back. Knowing that he had left Kawhia, a party of the restless
Ngati-Mania-poto had crept down the coast in the hope of finding some
stragglers of his party whom they might conveniently kill. But instead
of meeting, as they had expected, a few irregulars, they came suddenly
upon Te Rauparaha himself near the mouth of the Awakino River. To some
extent the surprise was mutual, but the stress of the position was all
against Te Rauparaha. Supported only by a limited force and hampered
by the women and children, he was in serious difficulties, as the
enemy might cut off his retreat and then attack him in force. Suddenly
a brilliant idea struck him. Before the enemy approached within
striking distance he ordered twenty of the most active women to
disrobe and don the mats and headgear of fighting men. Then arming
each of them with a stone club, he placed them under the charge of
Akau, who was a woman of magnificent physique, with instructions to
march in the van brandishing their weapons after the manner of veteran
warriors. The more helpless women and children were placed in the
centre, while he and his fighting men covered the retreat. Misled by
the stratagem, the Ngati-Mania-poto were tricked into the belief that
the Ngati-Toa force was much stronger than it really was, and instead
of attacking they began to retire. Observing this, Te Rauparaha
immediately accelerated their panic by charging down upon them, and in
the skirmish which followed Tutakara, their chief, was killed by Te
Rangi-hounga-riri, Te Rauparaha's eldest son by his child-wife Marore,
who was rapidly making a name for himself as an intrepid warrior. But,
although the position was somewhat relieved, Te Rauparaha felt that
the danger was not yet at an end. He was experienced enough in native
tactics to know that the Ngati-Mania-poto would be tempted to return
at nightfall and renew the attack in the hope of avenging the death of
their chief. He therefore could not consider himself safe until the
Mokau River was crossed, and, unfortunately, when he reached its banks
the tide was full and the river was in flood. Nothing remained to be
done except to wait, but in order still to maintain the deception
twelve large fires were kindled, at each of which three women and one
warrior were stationed, while the chief and the rest of his followers
lay prepared for emergencies. It was also an injunction to the
sentinels at the fires to address each other occasionally in the
heroic language of the time. "Be strong, O people, to fight on the
morrow if the enemy return. Take no thought of life. Consider the
valour of your tribe." These stimulating exhortations, which were
intended for the enemy's ears as much as for their own, were
supplemented by fervid speeches from the women, whose shrill voices
were carried out into the night air as a warning to the enemy that
they would not lag behind their lords in the coming battle.
Meantime, Te Rauparaha lay waiting for the enemy, who never came.
Either having no stomach for another encounter with so redoubtable a
warrior, or still not understanding the true position, they wisely
declined to provoke a battle, about the result of which they could be
by no means sanguine. At midnight the tide turned, and the river fell
sufficiently to be fordable.[53] Leaving their fires burning, the
Ngati-Toa crept silently down to the bank, and, wading across, made
their way to the _pas_ of their friends, which they reached
amidst general rejoicing. Early next morning the scene of the previous
day's battle was revisited and the bodies of the slain enemy
recovered to make a feast, at which the sweet revenge harboured
against Ngati-Mania-poto was surfeited.
While the Ngati-Toa plans were developing in Taranaki, another
misfortune was falling upon the people of the southern districts from
the opposite direction. Towards the middle of 1820 a band of six
hundred warriors, under Apihai Te Kawau, of Ngati-Whatua, Te Kanawa,
and Tu-korehu, of Waikato and Ngati-Mania-poto, and other prominent
chiefs, longing for some new excitement, had journeyed down the east
coast through Hawke's Bay and the Wairarapa, for no particular purpose
except to kill, eat, or make slaves of whoever might fall into their
hands. In the course of this pilgrimage of blood they crossed over to
the west, and there attacked in succession the Muaupoko, Rangitane,
and Ngati-Apa tribes, upon whom they inflicted sore and mortal wounds;
and when they retired back to the north they left the conquest of
Kapiti a matter of comparative simplicity to Te Rauparaha. But they
were soon themselves to feel the sting of defeat. Passing into the
Taranaki country on their homeward march, they were set upon by the
Ngati-Awa people, who strenuously opposed their further progress at
Waitara. This was a strange reversal of all previous policy on the
part of Ngati-Awa, who had always been friendly to, and had frequently
co-operated with, the Ngati-Mania-poto and Waikato peoples on similar
raids. By some authorities this new antagonism has been attributed to
the sinister influence of Te Rauparaha, who was still at Ure-nui
waiting to harvest his crops. He had not forgotten the anxious moments
to which he had been subjected on the banks of the Waitara River, and
it would have been more than human on his part had he not sought to
balance accounts now that the opportunity offered. "By means of
plotting and deceit," says one writer, "he succeeded in rousing
Ngati-Awa--or the greater part of them--to take up his quarrel."
Whatever the cause of Ngati-Awa's hostility, the effect was a series
of determined and well-organised attacks upon the northern _taua_,
which ultimately drove them to seek refuge with a friendly section of
the Ngati-Awa in the famous Puke-rangiora _pa_. Here they were
besieged for seven months, fighting repeatedly, and, towards the end
of that period, suffering intense privations. Frequent attempts were
made to send intelligence of their straits through the enemy's ranks
to their friends; but so close and vigilant was the investment that
their messengers were invariably captured, and their heads fixed upon
poles and exhibited to the besieged in a spirit of exultant derision.
One, Rahiora, a young man of the Ngati-Mahanga tribe, did at length
succeed in evading detection, and travelling into the Waikato by
Kete-marae and Whanganui, thence by Taupo and Waipa, was able to
communicate to the great Te Wherowhero the critical plight of his
tribesmen. Te Wherowhero immediately made his call to arms, and soon a
numerous relief party was on its way to join the force already in the
field, which had vainly endeavoured to cut off Te Rauparaha at the
Mokau. The junction of these forces was successfully accomplished, and
the pride of Waikato's military strength, under two of the greatest
chiefs of that time, Te Wherowhero and Te Waharoa, marched southward
for the dual purpose of raising the siege of Puke-rangiora and of
attacking Te Rauparaha. Though they failed to reach within striking
distance of the beleaguered _pa_, their movement indirectly achieved
its object, for the advent of so large a force lightened the pressure
of the siege by drawing off a considerable number of the besiegers. Of
these Te Rauparaha took command, and to his strategical genius was due
the victory which he ultimately achieved on the plain of Motu-nui.
This plain stretches along the sea-coast between the Ure-nui and Mimi
Rivers. At this point the shore is bounded by perpendicular cliffs,
fully one hundred and fifty feet high, along which are dotted several
small _pas_, used as fishing-places in olden times. Away to the
eastward of the plain run the wooded hills, on the steep sides of
which rise the numerous streams which rush across the plain to the
sea. On the southern end of one of the spurs descending from the
range was built the strongly fortified Okoki _pa_, which was made the
point of assembly by the Ngati-Awa and Ngati-Toa warriors.
The Waikato _taua_ came on as far as a place called Waitoetoe on
the southern bank of the Mimi River, and there commenced to make a
camp preparatory to throwing down the gage of battle. To the watchers
in the Okoki _pa_ their fires had been visible for several miles;
and when it was seen that they had determined to pitch camp, there was
a general request that their position should be at once attacked.
Personally, Te Rauparaha preferred to take no risks until the portion
of his force which was still holding Tu-korehu in check at
Puke-rangiora should have come up. He, however, yielded to the
importunities of some of his chiefs, and consented to send out a
_hunuhunu_, or reconnoitring party, to test the mettle of the
enemy. To meet the possibility of the skirmish developing into a more
serious encounter, he took the precaution of concealing a strong
reserve force, composed of the older men, in the bed of one of the
wooded streams which ran close beneath the _pa_. Having
instructed Rangiwahia, of Ngati-Mutunga, in whose charge he left these
supports, he took eighty of the younger men with him, and advanced
across the plain by stealthy marches. So secretly was the movement
effected, that they were within a stone's-throw of the Waikato camp,
and had actually commenced the attack upon some of the Waikato
warriors, before their presence was discerned. In the first onset Te
Rauparaha's followers were roughly handled, and, in accordance with
their preconcerted plan, they began rapidly to fall back, sustaining
severe losses the while from the guns of the enemy. Their retirement
soon developed into a general retreat, which might have been much more
disastrous but for a fatal division of opinion which sprang up amongst
the Waikato leaders, as to whether or not the fugitives should be
pursued. Te Wherowhero was content to have repulsed them, and advised
resuming the interrupted work of building their shelters; but others,
not so cautious, urged immediate pursuit, and, these counsels
prevailing, the whole Waikato force was soon in full cry after the
retreating scouts. The chase was fierce and stern, and many a good
Taranaki warrior dropped upon the plain as he sped towards the _pa_,
for the pursuers kept up as hot a fire as their rapid movements
rendered possible. Seeing the men falling round him, a chief who was
running close to Te Rauparaha repeatedly urged him to turn and attack
the pursuers; but the crafty general, knowing that the time was not
yet, declined to forestall his prearranged strategy. He held on his
way, only urging his men to faster flight, while Te Wherowhero incited
his marksmen to single out the Ngati-Awa chiefs for death. Some two
miles of the plain had been covered, and the southern warriors were
nearing their supports. As the foremost reached the wooded gully, they
waited there to recover their breath, and allowed the pursuers to
close in upon them. Weary and blown with their long and exciting run,
the Waikatos came straggling up, innocent of the trap into which they
had fallen. At the psychological moment Te Rauparaha gave the signal,
and out dashed his veterans, fresh and eager for the fray, charging
down upon the exhausted and astonished Waikatos. Their chiefs who were
in the forefront of the chase were the first to go down, and their
numbers were perceptibly diminished as they were beaten back by
repeated charges across the blood-stained field. Te Wherowhero fought
through the reverse with supreme courage, engaging and vanquishing in
single combat no less than five of Taranaki's greatest warriors; and
to his fine defence and heroic example is attributed the fact that his
tribe was not completely annihilated on the field of Motu-nui. On the
other hand, it has been whispered that his companion in arms, Te
Waharoa, did not bear himself in this fight with his wonted gallantry.
Waikato paid a heavy toll that day. They left one hundred and fifty
men dead on the field, and the slaughter of chiefs was a conspicuous
tribute to their bravery--Te Wherowhero and Te Waharoa being the only
leaders of eminence to escape.
For some inexplicable reason, Te Rauparaha did not pursue his victory
to the bitter end, as was his wont.[54] This forbearance on his part
is especially surprising in view of the fact that Te Wherowhero had
specifically promised to remain neutral during the progress of the
migration. Possibly the consciousness that he would have done the same
thing himself induced him to take a lenient view of his old
antagonist's want of good faith; for there can be no doubt that the
bloody wars which were at this time ravaging the country had
completely sapped the old Maori sense of honour. "At the period in
question, more perhaps than at any other in the history of the race,
moral considerations had but little weight in determining the conduct
of either the individual or the tribe. Even the nearest relatives did
not hesitate to destroy and devour each other." There was thus nothing
unusual about Te Wherowhero's conduct; but his experience of Te
Rauparaha on this occasion was such that from that day onward he left
him severely alone.
The effect of these successive victories was to enhance enormously the
prestige and power of Te Rauparaha. He began to be regarded with
reverence by Ngati-Awa and with something akin to worship by
Ngati-Toa. As a tangible proof of the gratitude which his hosts felt
for the services which he had rendered them, food, which had been
grudgingly supplied up to this time, was now given in abundance to his
people, and, what was of even greater moment to Te Rauparaha,
adherents began freely to flock to his cause. But, although he had
beaten off both the Ngati-Mania-poto and Waikato tribes, the position
was still unsatisfactory to him from the point of view of numbers, and
so he resolved to make one more effort to persuade Ngati-Raukawa to
join him. Accordingly he journeyed back to Opepe, a village on the
shores of Lake Taupo, where he met young Te Whatanui, a chief destined
to become famous in after years as the protector of the Muaupoko
people whom Te Rauparaha wished to destroy. Upon the assembled tribe,
and upon Te Whatanui in particular, he again impressed the merits of
his scheme, pointing out the altered position occupied by the tribes
who had managed to become possessed of fire-arms, as compared with
those who had only wooden spears and stone _meres_. He dwelt upon the
fact that ships were beginning to frequent Kapiti, and that there they
could obtain guns, as Nga-Puhi had done at the Bay of Islands. He also
reiterated all that he had formerly told them about the fertility of
the soil and the ease with which the country might be conquered: but
in vain. Te Whatanui volunteered no sign of approval. He gave many
presents to Te Rauparaha, as marks of respect from one warrior to
another. He also made him a long oration, skilfully avoiding the
all-important topic upon which Te Rauparaha had travelled so far to
consult him; nor did the majority of his people conceal their
objection to coming under Te Rauparaha's immediate command, to the
exclusion of their own chiefs. Angered at this perversity, Te
Rauparaha shook the dust of Opepe from off his feet and proceeded to
Rotorua, and as far as Tauranga, where he sought the aid of the great
Te Waru. But he met with no success, for Te Waru had schemes of his
own which claimed his personal attention. While resting with the
Tu-hou-rangi branch of the Arawa tribe on his return to Rotorua from
Tauranga, Te Rauparaha (according to accounts) perpetrated an outrage
upon Nga-Puhi which was destined to inspire one of the most disastrous
wars and one of the most daring assaults known in Maori history. His
motive for "sowing the seeds of evil counsel" is not clear. By some it
is alleged a jealous envy of Nga-Puhi's success in procuring arms,
while others find it in the consuming desire for revenge for the death
of a young relative killed a few weeks before at the fall of the Te
Totara _pa_ at the Thames. Whatever the motive, before leaving he took
occasion to recite a _karakia_, or song, informing the Tu-hou-rangi
that there was a small band of Nga-Puhi travelling about in their
vicinity, and broadly insinuating that "death and darkness were very
good things." This hint, however enigmatical, was taken and acted
upon. When Te Pae-o-te-rangi, Hongi's nephew, and a company of his
Nga-Puhi followers arrived at the Motu-tawa _pa_, from which Te
Rauparaha had just departed, they were treacherously set upon and
killed by the Tu-hou-rangi people. It was to avenge the death of Te
Pae-o-te-rangi that Hongi performed the Herculean task of dragging his
canoes from Waihi, near Maketu, to Lake Rotorua, and on the island of
Mokoia slaughtered the unfortunate Ngati-Whakaue (Arawas), who had
been entirely innocent of the original crime.
Before quitting Rotorua, however, Te Rauparaha had the good fortune to
fall in with the Nga-Puhi chief Pomare,[55] who handed over to him a
few of the men who had accompanied him to the Lake district on a mission
of bloodshed. With this small reinforcement Te Rauparaha returned to
Taranaki and prepared to resume his journey southward, having in the
meantime enlisted the services of some four hundred Ngati-Awas under
one of the most famous men of his time, Rere-ta-whangawhanga, father of
Wi Kingi Rangitake.[56] The force at Te Rauparaha's command now
numbered about eight hundred fighting men and their families. With
these he resumed his march in the autumn of 1822, when the kumara had
been gathered in, and advanced without interruption or mishap until he
reached Patea. Here a slight skirmish took place, and six of the
invaders were killed, their deaths being immediately avenged by the
slaughter of some Waitotara people. From them a large canoe was
captured, and was employed in the transportation of some of the women
and children by sea, thus saving them the labour and fatigue involved
in the land journey. Te Rauparaha himself also travelled by water with
the women, but, with the exception of those required to propel the
canoes, the men continued on foot along the coast, capturing and
killing an occasional straggler who had lingered too long in the
vicinity of the warpath.
At the mouth of the Rangitikei River the canoe was drawn up on the
beach, and the whole party halted for several days. Hearing of their
arrival, the friends of Pikinga came down to the camp to welcome her,
but the remainder of the Ngati-Apa tribe fled to the hills and
concealed themselves amongst the mountain fastnesses. It would
therefore appear that the friendship which they afterwards alleged to
have existed between Te Rauparaha and themselves was not of a very
substantial character.[57] Nor did the marriage of their chieftainess
with Te Rangihaeata avail them much; for while the bulk of his people
rested by the river, odd bands of their fighting men were continually
scouring the country in search of some plump Ngati-Apa who was needed
to keep the ovens fully employed. While the weather continued fine, Te
Rauparaha was anxious to lose no more time than was absolutely
necessary. So soon, therefore, as his people had been refreshed by the
rest, he pushed on again, making his next stage the mouth of the
Manawatu River, where he harassed the Rangitane people by the inroads
of armed parties on their settlements. But comparatively few captures
were made, as the _pas_ were deserted immediately the inhabitants
scented the danger.
The migration which Te Rauparaha was thus conducting had for its
objective a sweet and fertile spot on the banks of the Ohau stream;
and when the remaining portion of the coast had been traversed without
opposition, and the tribe had reached its journey's end in safety,
preparations were at once made to establish them permanently on the
land. A _pa_ was built large enough to accommodate the whole
party, and ground was cleared for cultivations, in which the potato
was planted for the first time on this coast. Their nearest neighbours
were the Ngati-Apa, who held possession of the island of Kapiti, and
the Muaupoko tribe, who were settled round the shores of Lakes
Horowhenua and Papaitonga. In what light the former regarded the
aggression upon their borders it is difficult to say; but the latter
were evidently very ill at ease, for they had a heavy presentiment of
what the ultimate result would be. But how to avert the danger was no
simple problem, as they had learned enough in the stern school of
experience to recognise that victory in open battle was not to be
hoped for. Strategy was therefore determined upon. Learning from two
Whanganui chiefs, who were then on a visit to Horowhenua, that Te
Rauparaha's vulnerable point at this period was his desire to obtain
canoes, they resolved to tempt him with the bait to which he was most
likely to fall a victim. The ease with which the chief fell into the
trap was due to his excessive ambition and the further large schemes
towards which his aspirations soared.
He had heard strange stories of a treasure-trove of greenstone which
the Ngai-Tahu people had stored in their _pas_ over on the Middle
Island; and as he stood on the beach at Ohau and looked across the
Strait towards the hills of Waipounamu, he dreamed of this wealth and
how he could possess himself of it. Without a fleet of canoes to
convey his warriors over the intervening sea, the project of invasion
was visionary; but even with the frailest vessels he might make it a
reality, and at one bold stroke add to his dominions, gratify his
avarice, and satiate his hate by waging war upon the southern tribes.
Of canoes the Muaupoko had many. Residing as they did upon the shores
of two lakes, these vessels were almost as essential to them as
gondolas to the Venetians; and when they learned of Te Rauparaha's
eagerness to obtain what they possessed, a device was cautiously
planned by which they might rid themselves of a neighbour whose coming
they felt boded them no good. Into this conspiracy of murder the
Rangitane people of Manawatu were admitted; and for thus allowing
themselves to be made the cat's-paw of others they paid a bitter
penalty, for they succeeded in nothing except in arousing the eternal
hatred of the great chief, who seemed invulnerable alike to their
cunning and their force. The authors of the scheme were Turoa and
Paetahi, both of the Ngati-Apa tribe; and the willing instrument in
their hands was Toheriri, a leader of the Muaupoko, whose part was,
shortly after the arrival of the Ngati-Toa at Ohau, to send an
invitation to Te Rauparaha and a number of his followers to pay a
friendly visit to his _pa_ at Papaitonga. As already indicated,
the inducement held out to Ngati-Toa was the promise of a gift of
canoes, and, under the circumstances, a more artful pretence could not
have been conceived. "Canoes were at this time his great desire, for
by them only could he cross over to the island of Waipounamu," is the
explanation of the position given by Tamihana Te Rauparaha; and, if
the Muaupoko could gratify that desire, Te Rauparaha was not the man
to refrain from making a convenience of his enemies, as well as of
his friends. Accordingly he accepted the invitation, notwithstanding
the earnest remonstrances of his nephew and lieutenant, Te
Rangihaeata, who declared his irresistible conviction that murder,
rather than hospitality, was the secret of the Muaupoko invitation.
Rauparaha was in no mood to speculate about omens, good or evil.
Canoes he wanted, and canoes he would have, even if the gods or the
devils were against him. His unusual recklessness even carried him so
far that he selected only a few warriors to accompany him, and with
these he arrived, just at the fall of evening, at Papaitonga. The
party was, of course, received with the most profuse expressions of
friendship. Toheriri and his fellow-chief Waraki conducted their
visitors in state to view the canoes which were to be handed over in
the morning; but, on returning to the _pa_, they were careful to
conduct Te Rauparaha to a house at one end of the settlement, while
his followers were provided for at the opposite end. This fact appears
to have aroused no suspicion in the Ngati-Toa mind; for at night all
slept soundly, until the shouts of the combined Rangitane and Muaupoko
war parties were heard in the early morning as they rushed upon the
slumbering _pa_.
The assailants appear to have been too precipitate in their onset.
Instead of first surrounding the _whare_ in which Te Rauparaha
lay, they commenced the massacre of his followers at the other end;
and Toheriri, who was lightly sleeping in the same compartment as Te
Rauparaha, was compelled to go out and direct them to the particular
hut in which their common foe was lying. This delay was fatal to their
design, but fortunate for Te Rauparaha. In the absence of his host, he
stayed not to take his leave, but bursting through the _raupo_
wall which formed the end of the _whare_, he slipped away between
the houses; and when the tardy Rangitane rushed up to the hut, their
prey had flown, and nothing remained but to wreak their vengeance upon
the less distinguished victims, whom they slaughtered without mercy.
Included amongst these victims of treacherous onslaught were several
of Te Rauparaha's wives and children. Of the latter, however, two were
spared, Te Uira and Hononga, the former of whom was a daughter of his
child-wife Marore. The reason for this partial clemency is not clear;
apparently vengeance was satisfied by sending them prisoners to the
Wairarapa, where they afterwards became wives of men of renown in the
district.[58]
Amidst the chaos of treachery which surrounds this incident, it is
pleasant to record an act of chivalry of an heroic type. Amongst those
who accompanied Te Rauparaha on this eventful visit was his son,
Rangi-hounga-riri, who, it will be remembered, had distinguished
himself by slaying Tutakara, the chief of the Ngati-Mania-poto, when
that tribe attacked Ngati-Toa at the Awakino River. He, being strong
of body and lithe of limb, had managed to break through the attacking
cordon, and, had he chosen, might have made his escape. But, as he
hurried away, his ear caught the sound of a girl's piteous crying for
help. He recognised the voice as that of his sister, Uira. Heedless of
consequences he rushed back to the _pa_, and, forcing his way to
the side of the girl, placed his protecting arm around her, and fought
her assailants until overpowered by superior numbers. By his death, Te
Rauparaha lost one of his most intrepid lieutenants, and the Ngati-Toa
tribe one of its most promising leaders. As chivalrous as he was
brave, he was the type of chief whose nobility lifted the ancient
Maori above the level of the mere savage, and illustrated the manly
qualities which so impressed those early colonists who took the
trouble to understand the people amongst whom they had come. The
qualities are still there, and justify the hope that, by sound laws,
and sanitary and educational reforms, such as are now being effected,
it may yet be possible to stay the process of degeneration which set
in as the result of the first contact of the Maori with the European.
Te Rauparaha, having slipped from the snare of his enemies, plunged
into the long grass which surrounded the _pa_, and, in the
semi-darkness, succeeded in eluding his pursuers, eventually reaching
his settlement at Ohau, weary, angry, and almost naked. Bitterly
disappointed at the result of his mission, and deeply enraged at the
treatment he had received, he in his wrath cursed the Rangitane and
Muaupoko peoples, and, calling his tribe around him, he charged his
followers to make it the one special mission of their lives "to kill
them from the dawn of day till the evening." This doctrine of
extermination was not preached to unwilling ears; and from that day
the fixed policy of the Ngati-Toa tribe was to sweep the Muaupoko and
Rangitane from their ancestral lands. In the reprisals which followed
as the result of Rauparaha's vow of eternal vengeance, the former tribe
seems to have suffered most; and there is little room for doubt that
they would have been ultimately uprooted and effaced from amongst the
tribes of New Zealand, but for the kindly offices of that dark-skinned
humanitarian, Te Whatanui, who, years afterwards, took them under his
protecting mantle, and declared, in the now historic phrase, that
"nothing would reach them but the rain from heaven."
The Rangitane people were more fortunately situated, having the
impassable forests of the Manawatu and its inaccessible mountain
fastnesses to protect them. But they by no means escaped the
bitterness of persecution, as bands of Ngati-Toa were constantly
roaming their country in search of some one to kill and devour. The
constant absence of these parties convinced Rauparaha that the small
band of men whom he had with him was by no means sufficient for the
magnitude of the task which his ambitious mind had conceived, and so
he determined upon doing two things. The first was to strengthen his
position by conquering the island of Kapiti, which was still in the
possession of a section of the Ngati-Apa people; the second, once
again to despatch ambassadors to the north, to persuade some of his
former allies to join him in mastering a district which promised a
rich supply of guns and ammunition. As a preliminary to the former
scheme, he extended his frontier as far as Otaki, from which point he
could the better watch the movements of the islanders and sweep down
upon them at a favourable moment. But the intervals in which there was
lack of vigilance were few and far between, and consequently the first
series of attacks failed signally. The defenders were strongly posted
and incessantly watchful; so Rauparaha, seeing that the frontal
attack, however well delivered, would not avail, decided upon a
stratagem which, judged by its success, must have been admirably
planned.
His device was to lull the defenders of the island into a false sense
of security by apparently withdrawing all his forces from Otaki for
the purpose of some larger movement in the north, at the same time
leaving a small band of well-tried men, whose duty it was to make a
dash for the island and seize it before its inhabitants had recovered
from their surprise. He accordingly marshalled his forces one morning,
and, with an amount of ostentatious display which was calculated to
attract the attention of the Ngati-Apa spies, he marched away to the
Manawatu at the head of his warriors. The Ngati-Apa saw this movement,
but did not understand it. Believing that the absence of Te Rauparaha
meant a period of respite, they withdrew their sentries and gave
themselves up to rejoicing. This was precisely what the Ngati-Toa
chief had hoped for and calculated upon. He also had the satisfaction
of knowing that the most critical part of his scheme was in safe
hands. His uncle, Te Pehi Kupe, who was left in charge of the attacking
party, was a tried and grim veteran, and, true to the trust imposed
upon him, he came out of his concealment just before dawn on the
morning after Te Rauparaha had left. Silently the intrepid little band
launched their canoes, and as silently they paddled across the
intervening water, reaching the island at the break of day. They found
the inhabitants still sleeping, and unconscious of any danger until
the shouts of their assailants and the cries of the wounded warned
them that some desperate work was on hand. Not many of them stayed to
fight, and those who were not killed in the first onslaught scrambled
into their canoes and made for the mainland, thus ingloriously leaving
the last independent stronghold of the Ngati-Apa in the hands of the
invaders.
It has been charged to the discredit of Te Rauparaha, that, in
planning this attack upon Kapiti, he cherished a guilty hope that Te
Pehi might fall in the assault, and by his death rid him of a powerful
rival in the councils of the tribe. But, while his critics have never
been slow to attribute to him the grossest treachery towards his
enemies and infidelity to his friends, there is absolutely no evidence
that on this occasion he meditated a crime, such as sacred history
imputes to the King of Israel when he placed Uriah the Hittite in the
forefront of the battle. Te Pehi was a great chief. He was Te
Rauparaha's senior in years and his superior in birth. His prowess in
battle was known far and wide, and the circumstances under which he
afterwards emulated the example of Hongi by visiting England, and like
him, subsequently procuring for his tribe, guns and ammunition at
Sydney, stamp him as a man of strong initiative and individuality. But
he did not possess the political genius with which his nephew was
endowed; he lacked the organising power, the tact, and the gift of
inspiring others with his own enthusiasm. While Te Pehi might lead a
charge with brilliancy, Te Rauparaha could often gain more by
diplomacy than he by force of arms; and these statesmanlike qualities
gave the younger chief an influence with the tribe which Te Pehi did
not and never could possess. Indeed, the tragedy associated with his
death at Kaiapoi, in 1828, is sufficient to convince us that he was
strangely lacking in conciliation and tact. So far as can be learned,
there is nothing to lead us to suppose that Te Pehi ever questioned
his nephew's superiority in the diplomatic department of his tribal
office; on the contrary, he seems to have cheerfully accepted a
secondary position, and loyally aided Te Rauparaha in all his
projects. Under these circumstances, it is somewhat difficult to
imagine what Te Rauparaha was to gain by sacrificing so brave an ally.
Moreover, the intense grief which he manifested when Te Pehi was
killed at Kaiapoi, and the signal vengeance which he took upon the
Ngai-Tahu tribe for their act of treachery, render the suspicion of
foul play on his part utterly improbable. In view of these
considerations he may fairly be exonerated from any criminal intent
towards Te Pehi. It is clear that the seizure of Kapiti was but an
essential move in his policy of conquest, and that the manner of its
seizure was but a cleverly designed piece of strategy, certainly not
unattended by risk, but affording very reasonable chances of success.
The capture of this natural fortress did not result in its immediate
occupation, for Te Rauparaha still had abundance of work to do on the
mainland before he could regard the power of the enemy as broken and
the conquest of his new home complete. In pursuance of his policy of
extermination, he had been interspersing his larger movements with
repeated raids upon Rangitane and Muaupoko, in which he invariably
made them feel the sting of his revenge. Finding that these attacks
were becoming more frequent and more vigorous, the chiefs of the
latter tribe conceived a plan by which they hoped to elude the
persistency of their implacable pursuers. Hitherto their _pas_
had been built on the shores of the picturesque lakes, around which
they had lived since their advent into the district, centuries before.
But they now decided to abandon these strongholds, which were exposed
to every raid of the enemy, and build their dwellings in the centre of
Lakes Horowhenua and Papaitonga. At the cost of an amazing amount of
industry and toil, they constructed artificial islands upon the beds
of these lakes at their deepest parts, and upon these mounds they
built a miniature Maori Venice. The construction of these islands was
most ingenious, and desperate indeed must have been the straits to
which Muaupoko were driven before they imposed upon themselves so
laborious a task.
Proceeding to the bush, their first operation was to cut down a number
of saplings, which were pointed and then driven into the soft mud,
closely enclosing in rectangular form sufficient space on which to
place the foundations of the houses. Smaller stakes were then driven
into the centre of the enclosure, upon which were spitted those
compact masses of vegetation known as "Maori-heads." A layer of these
gave the builders a solid basis upon which to work, and huge stones,
earth, and gravel were brought in the canoes from the shore, and
poured into the enclosures until the pile of _débris_ rose some
height above the level of the water. Six such islands were formed on
Lake Horowhenua and two on Papaitonga, and on these _whares_ were
erected, which were gradually extended by the addition of platforms
reaching a considerable distance beyond the islands. Round each of
these platforms ran a stout palisade, which served the dual purpose of
preventing the very young children from falling into the water and
offering a formidable barrier to the assaults of the enemy. As the
only means of communication with these islands was by canoe, and as it
was well known to the Muaupoko people that Te Rauparaha had few such
vessels, they felt comparatively secure from attack so soon as they
had transferred themselves to their new retreat.
But they little reckoned on the kind of man with whom they had to
deal, when they imagined that a placid sheet of water could interpose
between Te Rauparaha and his enemies. Canoes he had not, but strong
swimmers he had; and it is a fine tribute to their daring that, on a
dark and gloomy night, a small band of these undertook to swim off to
one of the Horowhenua _pas_ and attack its sleeping inhabitants.
With their weapons lashed to their wrists, they silently entered the
water, and by swift side strokes reached the walls of Waipata, the
_pa_ which they had chosen for their attempt, and were swarming over
the palisades before a note of warning could be sounded. Taken at such
a disadvantage, it was not to be expected that the Muaupoko resistance
would be effective, for they were both stunned by surprise and
paralysed by fear at the awful suddenness of the attack. Flight was
their first thought, and such as were not slain in their sleep or
caught in their attempt to escape, plunged into the lake and made for
the nearest shelter. In this endeavour to escape death all were not
successful, and it is estimated that, between the killed and drowned,
the attack upon Waipata cost the Muaupoko several hundred lives,
besides adding to their misfortune by shattering utterly their belief
in the inaccessibility of their island _pas_. The adjoining _pas_ upon
the lake, warned of the impending danger by the tumult at Waipata, at
once prepared for a stubborn defence; but the attacking party, feeling
themselves unequal to the task of a second assault, discreetly
withdrew to the mainland before it was yet daylight, and at once made
preparations for another attack upon a more extensive scale. But both
prudence and necessity dictated the wisdom of delay; it was wiser to
wait until Muaupoko had relapsed into their former state of
confidence, and, moreover, the plan upon which it was proposed to make
the attack required time for its development.
Recognising the strength of the Waikiekie _pa_, against which the
energies of his tribe were next to be directed, Te Rauparaha saw that
success was not to be expected unless he could attack it in force.
This involved the transportation of a large body of men over the
waters of the lake, which could only be effected by means of canoes.
These he did not possess in numbers, and, even if he had, he must
still devise means of conveying them to the lake, which was several
miles from the coast. His ingenious mind, however, soon discovered an
escape from these perplexities, and he at once decided upon a plan,
which was not without precedent in European warfare or imitation in
subsequent Maori history. His scheme involved the haulage of his
canoes over the belt of land which separated the lake from the sea,
and the enterprise seems to have been as cleverly executed as it was
daringly designed. Out of the lake runs an insignificant stream, which
slowly meanders over shallows and between narrow banks down to the
ocean; and to the mouth of this creek were brought such canoes as had
fallen into Te Rauparaha's hands at the taking of Kapiti, and a larger
one which had been procured from his friends at Whanganui-a-Tara.[59]
Where the water was deep enough, or the reaches straight enough, the
canoes were floated up the bed of the stream; but as this was possible
only at rare intervals, the greater part of the distance was covered
by dragging the vessels over the grassy flats and ferny undulations.
Such a task would be laborious enough under any circumstances; but on
this occasion it was rendered even more wearisome by the necessity for
conducting it in absolute silence. As the success of the expedition
depended mainly upon the completeness of the surprise, it was
essential that no note of warning should be given, and therefore it
was impossible to encourage the workers to greater exertions by song
or speech; but so heartily did they bend themselves to their
monotonous task, that the three miles of toilsome road were traversed
before the break of day.