THE SOUTHERN RAIDS
The events just narrated have brought us in point of time to early in
the year 1828, by which period Te Rauparaha was unquestionably master
of the whole coast from Whanganui to Wellington. Not only was his
supremacy indisputable in that he had completely silenced his enemies,
but success had brought its natural result in the shape of numerous
reinforcements, which had come from the shores of Taupo to share in
his adventurous cause. Thus he was both free and able to give his
undivided attention to the realisation of a dream which he had long
cherished, and which he one day hoped to realise. This was no less
ambitious a scheme than the invasion and conquest of the Middle
Island, the forest-clad hills and snow-capped mountains of which were
plainly discernible as he gazed wistfully across the broken waters of
Raukawa (Cook's Strait). But it was not the scenic beauties of the
island which attracted the keen eye of Te Rauparaha, for these alone
would have no charm for him. His mind was cast in the material rather
than in the æsthetic mould; his thoughts ran to practical rather than
to artistic ends, and the real magnet which attracted him southward
was the hope of possessing himself of the large store of greenstone
which, according to report, the Ngai-Tahu people had collected at
Kaikoura as the result of their periodical excursions to the west
coast, where alone this valuable jade could be obtained.[76] Avarice
and love of conquest were driving forces in his plans, but there was
yet another motive operating to impel him onward. If the reader will
recall the circumstances attending the battle of Waiorua, it will be
remembered that the host which on that occasion invaded Kapiti had
been collected from far and near. Some among them had even come from
the tribe of Ngai-Tahu, which was then the most powerful branch of the
Maori race occupying the Middle Island, of which they had dispossessed
the Ngati-Mamoe some two hundred years before. One of the principal
_pas_ of these people in the northern end of the island was situated
on a high cliff overlooking the bay of Kaikoura, which at this time
was estimated to contain between three and four thousand souls, living
under the direction of a chief named Rerewaka. When the fugitives from
Kapiti reached their settlements on the Middle Island, and carried
with them marvellous tales of Te Rauparaha's prowess in battle, these
stories only tended to intensify the feelings of hatred and envy
already cherished by the southern chiefs. Their impotent rage found
expression in a vain and unfortunate boast made by Rerewaka, which
supplied Te Rauparaha with the strongest of all incentives to a Maori
raid--the desire for revenge. Rerewaka had not himself been present at
the battle of Waiorua, otherwise he might have been more modest in his
language towards the invincible Te Rauparaha. But he had had friends
with the allies, and the chagrin felt at their annihilation, and the
taunting song of triumph chanted by the victorious Ngati-Toa, in which
the subjection of the Ngai-Tahu was hinted at, provoked him to declare
in an unguarded moment that "if ever Te Rauparaha dared to set foot on
his land, he would rip his belly open with a _niho mango_."[77] This
oral indiscretion was overheard by a slave standing by, who shortly
afterwards, making his escape, reported Rerewaka's boast to
Rauparaha. The chief of the Ngati-Toa heard with placid countenance of
his threatened fate, and in answer merely remarked, "So he has said,"
the apparent unconcern of his reply justifying the native proverb
concerning him: "_Ko te uri o kapu manawa whiti_" (No one knew his
thoughts, whether they were good or evil). He was really glad at heart
of this further pretext for attacking and conquering the tribes of the
Middle Island.[78] But while he had his mind bent upon revenge and his
eyes fixed upon the treasure of greenstone, he was in no haste to put
his design into execution. Leisurely action would enable him to
mobilise his own forces, and serve to wrap his enemies in imagined
security; and so for two years he waited patiently, keeping his
warriors in fighting trim by repeated skirmishes with the shattered
remnants of the Muaupoko and other northern tribes. But now his plans
had fully matured, and by this time he had succeeded in gathering a
large quantity of arms and ammunition from the Europeans, who, having
learnt its advantages, were making Kapiti a frequent port of call and
a place of some importance in the whaling industry. With these weapons
he equipped his chosen men, who, when fighting with their native
_meres_, were superior even to the best of the Ngai-Tahu or Rangitane,
but, when armed with the more modern implements of the _pakeha_,
became simply invincible. His fleet of canoes[79] also had been
strengthened by the captures he had made after the battle of Waiorua,
so that he had ample accommodation for the three hundred and forty men
who comprised his expeditionary force. With this force, the most
perfectly equipped that he had yet commanded, Rauparaha crossed the
Strait, making Rangitoto (D'Urville Island) his first place of call.
Here he found a section of the Rangitane tribe, the descendants of the
people whom Captain Cook had first met at Ship Cove, who had now
become powerful in the sense of being numerous. But where the odds of
skill and arms were against them, numbers only supplied more victims
for the cannibal feast which followed the battle. Everywhere the
islanders were defeated and put to rout, many of them being eaten on
the spot, and as many more carried back to Kapiti, there to await the
dictates of their captors' appetites. Or, if they were fortunate
enough to have their lives spared, the reprieve only enhanced their
misfortune by carrying slavery and degradation with it.
Rauparaha on this occasion swept like a withering blast over the whole
of the northern portion of the Marlborough Province, neither the
seclusion of the Pelorus Sound nor the inaccessibility of the Wairau
and Awatere Valleys protecting the inhabitants from the rapacity of
his warriors. Deflecting their course from D'Urville Island, they next
proceeded to the point known in Maori legend as "Kupe's spear," but
more recently styled Jackson's Head. Here a temporary division of
their forces took place, the Ngati-Awa allies proceeding up Queen
Charlotte Sound as far as Waitohi, the Pelorus Sound being the
objective of Te Rauparaha. The tribe who occupied the shores of this
great waterway was the Ngati-Kuia, an offshoot of Ngati-Apa, who were
famed for their skill as fishermen, but who did little cultivation.
Their principal _pa_, a semi-fortified village called Hikapu,
stood at the junction of the Pelorus and Kenepuru reaches; and, when
the fleet of northern canoes was seen sweeping up the Sound, the cry
was raised "_Te Iwi hou e!_" (The newcomers! the new people!) That
their coming boded them no good, Ngati-Kuia knew, and those who could,
disappeared into the forest, while those who could not stayed to fight
for the _mana_ of their tribe and the honour of their ancestral home.
For them the battle was one against fearful odds; for, this being
their first acquaintance with firearms, they were seized with panic,
and the fight soon degenerated into a massacre. "What are those lights
and the smoke we see at the village?" inquired a boy as he was being
hurried through the bush by his fugitive father. "That," replied the
sobbing parent--"that is Ngati-Toa burning your ancestors' and our
houses."[80]
Whatever hesitation Te Rauparaha may have had about raiding the Wairau
during this campaign, was dispelled on its being reported to him that
the Rangitane chief of the valley, Te Rua-Oneone, whose _pa_,
called Kowhai, was situated near the mouth of the Wairau River, had
heaped a curse upon his head, an insult which called for prompt and
vigorous action. As yet the Wairau natives had had no experience of
Rauparaha's qualities as a fighting chief. But they had heard rumours,
and had listened to tales of his doings on the other island, which,
although painted in glowing colours, had nevertheless been regarded
with contempt by many of the leading chiefs. Amongst these incredulous
persons was Te Rua-Oneone, who treated the matter so lightly as to
remark that "Te Rauparaha's head would one day be beaten with a
fern-root pounder." According to the Maori code, there was but one way
of dealing with a scoffer who could speak so contemptuously of a
chief; and therefore, when the natives of Pelorus, D'Urville Island,
and Totaranui had been hopelessly beaten, the canoes were ordered to
the Wairau, where the boastful Te Rua-Oneone had direct experience of
what manner of man Te Rauparaha was. The fight, which took place on
the land now enclosed within Bank Farm, was soon over, and could only
have one result. The Rangitane were brave men, but their stone and
wooden weapons were useless against the muskets of the Ngati-Toa. Te
Rua-Oneone was captured and carried as a slave to Kapiti, where he had
time and opportunity to reflect upon his defeat, which Rauparaha, with
appropriate sarcasm, called _tuki tuki patu aruhe_, which signifies
"beaten with a fern-root pounder."
Nor was this merely a raid of bloodshed. Rauparaha sought territorial
aggrandisement, and adopted the Roman principle of securing the fruits
of his conquest by planting a colony of his tribe at every centre
along the route of his victorious march. In each case the newcomers
made slaves of the strong amongst the men and the beautiful amongst
the women of the people whom they vanquished.[81]
No sooner had this shattering blow been delivered against the fortunes
of Ngai-Tahu than Te Rauparaha gave his attention to a matter which
from force of circumstances had been neglected for many months. At the
earnest solicitation of Ngati-Raukawa, he now agreed to march against
the Whanganui people, who, it will be remembered, were responsible for
the destruction of one of the several Ngati-Raukawa migrations prior
to the first visit to the South Island. A force which, it is said,
numbered nearly a thousand fighting men, led by the most distinguished
chiefs of the allied tribes, with Te Rauparaha in supreme command,
proceeded up the coast and attacked the Putikiwharanui _pa_, which was
defended by a garrison almost twice as numerous as the assailants.
Though not protracted, the struggle was fierce. The defenders made
many desperate sorties, fighting with great determination and
affording a fine example of courage, during the two months over which
the investment extended. The damage, however, which they were able to
inflict had no effect in causing the forces of Te Rauparaha to
relinquish their grip. After a spirited defence of eight weeks, the
assailants succeeded in carrying the place by storm, and the
inhabitants suffered so severely that they were never afterwards able
to seek the satisfaction of retaliation.[82]
While the Ngati-Toa were engaged in these minor operations, an event
occurred which increased the _mana_ of their chief amongst his
own people and added considerably to his reputation abroad. This was
the opportune arrival of his uncle and former comrade, Te Pehi Kupe,
who, laden with the store of weapons which he had procured in Sydney,
was brought back to New Zealand at this critical juncture in the
history of the tribe.[83] The jubilation at such an event was
necessarily great; not so much, perhaps, because of the wanderer's
return, as because of what he had brought with him. There is at least
no denying the fact that Te Pehi soon forgot what little of
civilisation he had learned, except in so far as it enabled him to
become a more destructive savage. He at once coalesced with his former
leader; and with this valuable addition to his staff of councillors,
and the enhancement of his munitions of war, Te Rauparaha felt more
than equal to the task of carrying the battle to the gates of
Kaikoura.
Out of this extreme confidence grew a further development of the
Ngati-Toa scheme of conquest. Their forces were now divided into two
sections, the one proceeding to the great bays on the Nelson Coast,
where they intended forcibly establishing themselves, while the
remainder, under their old leader, aided by Te Pehi and a staff of
other warriors, prepared to test the merits of Rerewaka's boast. It
was a fateful day in the summer of 1829 when the canoes with three
hundred men left D'Urville Island and turned their prows to the south.
Although few in numbers compared with the enemy they were going to
meet, they knew that the advantage of arms was with them, almost every
man being provided with a musket. Moreover, they were full of the
animation which is born of complete confidence in one's leader, and
which, in this case, almost amounted to a superstition. No war party
with Rauparaha at its head ever took failure into account, some of the
warriors even going so far as to declare that "it was only necessary
to strike the enemy with the handles of their paddles in order to
secure a victory."
[Illustration: THE TIKI, KAIAPOI.
Erected on the site of the old Kaiapoi Pa.]
Thus, well-armed and confident, the Ngati-Toa proceeded down the
coast, resting the first day at Cloudy Bay, and subsequently at
various other points, and arriving off Kaikoura before dawn on the
fourth day. Not knowing what the exact disposition of the enemy's
forces might be, and not being disposed for risks, Rauparaha anchored
his canoes under the shadow of the peninsula, and then waited for the
light. In this decision his characteristic good fortune did not desert
him. It so happened that the Kaikoura natives were at that very time
expecting a visit from some of their tribesmen in the south; and, when
the first glimmering of dawn revealed a fleet of canoes on the bay
below, there being nothing to indicate the direction from which they
had come, the unsuspecting Ngai-Tahu assumed that their anticipated
visitors had arrived. The early risers in the _pa_ set up the song
of welcome--_Haere-mai, Haere-mai_--and soon the whole settlement
throbbed with life and activity, indicative of the jubilant
expectation of a reunion of friends. Whilst the elders busied
themselves with preparations for the hospitable entertainment of the
strangers, the younger people rushed, shouting gaily, down to the
beach, to escort the guests back to the _pa_. The quick eye of Te
Rauparaha at once saw the trap into which his enemy had fallen; and,
elated at his amazing good fortune, he ordered the advance of the
canoes, which, with a few sweeping strokes of the paddles, were driven
swiftly across the intervening water. Before the unwary victims had
recognised their mistake or recovered from their surprise, the
Ngati-Toa warriors were amongst them, dealing death-blows on every
hand. As might have been expected, the Ngai-Tahu, being totally
unarmed and unprepared for the attack, were slaughtered without
remorse or resistance, and, as their only safety lay in flight, they
beat a breathless retreat towards the _pa_, where for a time the
semblance of a stand was made. But the muskets of their assailants
were now doing their work of death, while their ruthless charges
increased the havoc. Before long Rerewaka was a prisoner, over a
thousand of his people were slain, and his stronghold was in the hands
of his most detested enemies.
This decisive achievement was fully celebrated during the next ten
days, with all the atrocities peculiar to cannibal feasts; and after
the savage appetites of the victors had been surfeited with the flesh
of their victims, and the nephritic treasures of the _pa_ had
been collected, the war party returned to Kapiti, carrying Rerewaka
and four hundred additional prisoners with them, to be killed and
eaten at the leisure of their conquerors. The majority of them in due
course met this fate, Rerewaka himself being killed with especial
marks of cruelty and indignity, because of the insulting nature of his
language towards the Ngati-Toa chief.[84] In consideration of the
circumstances which led to this attack upon Kaikoura, the victory has
ever since been known as _Niho Mango_, or "the battle of the shark's
tooth."
After the humiliation of Rerewaka and his people at Kaikoura,
Rauparaha's greatest ambition was to pit himself in battle against
that section of the Ngai-Tahu tribe who, under Tamaiharanui,
Rongotara, and other powerful chiefs, held the strongly fortified
_pa_ at Kaiapohia. But before he had a reasonable excuse for
picking a quarrel with the people of Kaiapoi, and so attacking them in
a manner that would be strictly _tika_, or proper, he had another
opportunity of returning to Kaikoura, to retrieve the dignity of
himself and his friends. The cause of this second invasion, like the
previous one, was somewhat remote; but, unlike it, it arose out of a
superabundance of love rather than of hate. The offence complained of
was not committed against Te Rauparaha, but against his nephew,
Rangihaeata. Rangihaeata was at this time rapidly rising into fame as
a daring and successful warrior, and his place in the tribe naturally
demanded that much of his time should be given up to the business of
war, with the result that his functions as the head of his household
were much neglected. During one of these prolonged periods of absence,
his _pa_ at Porirua was visited by a chief of the Ngati-Ira (a
branch of the Ngati-Kahungunu) tribe, named Kekerengu. According to
tradition, this Kekerengu was a man of remarkable beauty of figure and
grace of deportment. Tall and stalwart of frame, easy of carriage, and
engaging in manner, his personal charm was still further enhanced in
Maori estimation by a particularly artistic _moko_, or tattoo
decoration. The introduction of this social lion into Rangihaeata's
family circle was the cause of all the trouble. Kekerengu had so
insinuated himself into the affections of the warrior's wives, that
when Rangihaeata returned from the wars, the breath of scandal was
busy with the proceedings of his family circle during his absence. The
anger of the chief, on learning what had occurred, knew no bounds.
Forthwith he sent the fiery cross from _pa_ to _pa_, and in a short
space of time a force sufficient for his purpose was enrolled. Te
Rauparaha, to whom the scent of battle was sweet, at once espoused the
cause of his injured relative, and together they set out in search of
the destroyer of Te Rangihaeata's domestic happiness.
Kekerengu knew that, as the result of his indiscreet conduct,
retribution would in some form follow him; but, in order to delay the
evil day, he judiciously took to his canoe, and with a few of his
followers crossed the Strait and sought refuge amongst the Ngai-Tahu
of Kaikoura.[85] Thither Te Rauparaha tracked him; but the inhabitants
of the _pa_ were not to be taken by surprise a second time.
Knowing that they were no match for the force they saw approaching,
they at once abandoned their settlement and flew down the coast,
through the Amuri, towards Kaiapoi. But this escapade was not to stand
between the Ngati-Toa and their revenge. When they arrived and found
the _pa_ empty, they at once decided to go in pursuit. The march
was swift and forced, and the invaders soon fell in with the
fugitives, as they were camped at the Omihi stream. Here the unhappy
wretches were attacked and routed with great slaughter, the few who
escaped death or capture flying in precipitate haste into the bush,
through which they made their way to the minor settlements further
south. Kekerengu's guilt[86] was now expiated in his own blood and
that of his hosts, and therefore Ngati-Toa might have returned to
their homes fully satisfied with the results of their expedition. But
the opportunity was so favourable for carrying out the long-cherished
design of attacking Kaiapoi, that Te Pehi strenuously counselled going
on. Te Rauparaha, it is said, was seized by some dark foreboding that
Fate was trifling with him, and endeavoured to argue his lieutenant
out of his warlike enthusiasm, but without avail. Te Pehi was bent
upon storming Kaiapoi, and for once Te Rauparaha allowed himself to be
overruled by his less cautious comrade. To facilitate the movements of
the war party, which numbered about one hundred men, all encumbrances
in the shape of prisoners were left in charge of a detachment at
Omihi, and the canoes, which had been brought round from Kaikoura,
were manned and taken as far down the coast as the Waipara River.
There the force disembarked, and hauling the canoes beyond the reach
of the tide, pushed on across the plains towards the southern
stronghold.
Kaiapoi was one of the oldest of the Ngai-Tahu _pas_, as it was
admittedly one of their strongest fortresses. It had been built by Tu
Rakautahi in 1700 A.D., at the close of the thirty years' war, which
had resulted in the expulsion and the almost total annihilation of the
Ngati-Mamoe people. Its position had been selected with some strategic
skill, for it stood on a narrow tongue of land about five acres in
extent, which ran out into the Tairutu lagoon, and was surrounded on
three sides by the dark waters of that extensive swamp, which
stretched for several miles to the north and the south. On the
landward side it was protected by a wide and deep ditch, which in
peaceful times was bridged over, while its double row of palisades,
erected upon massive earthworks and surmounted by curiously carved
figures representing gods and ancestors, rendered it so impregnable in
the popular estimation that it was sometimes compared to "the
inaccessible cliff of God," which none had dared to scale. The
internal arrangements were in keeping with the importance of the _pa_
as the social and military centre of the tribe. Its population was
numerous, wealthy, and distinctly aristocratic, and therefore the
domains of the _rangatiras_ and the commonalty were well defined. The
dwellings of the chiefs were large and commodious structures,
"ornamented inside and out with carving and scroll work." There were
storehouses for the man physical, shrines for the man spiritual,
playing grounds for old and young, and a burial-place for both when
their earthly sojourn was over. The commerce of the _pa_ was conducted
through three gates, two of which, Kaitangata and Hiaka-rere, faced
the deep moat, and the third, Huirapa, the lagoon on the western side,
being connected with the opposite shore by a light wooden footway. But
with all its vaunted strength, the _pa_ had, according to critics, a
fatal weakness, in that, if subjected to a close investment, it was
liable to have its food supply cut off owing to its semi-insularity.
Its builder had been twitted with this supposed defect when he
determined upon the site of his stronghold, and he silenced his
critics more by his ready wit than by the soundness of his military
judgment. For he said "_Kai_" must be "_poi_," or food must be swung
to the spot. "Potted birds from the forests of Kaikoura, fish and
mutton birds from the south, _kiore_ and _weka_ from the plains and
the mountain ranges"; and so down through the century or more which
had passed since then it had been an essential part of the policy of
those in authority at the _pa_ to see that its commissariat was not
neglected, and that its _whatas_ were always full against the day
when its gates might have to be barred to a troublesome enemy.[87]
Such was the place which, in the opening months of 1829, the northern
force marched to assault; but they had sadly misjudged the position if
they imagined that they could take it by surprise. Ngai-Tahu had
warning enough to enable them to gather their people within the
palisades, to cut away their bridges, and to stand upon the alert at
all the most vulnerable points. When, therefore, Te Rauparaha arrived
under the walls of the _pa_, he adopted the most diplomatic
course open to him, and made a virtue of necessity by feigning that he
had come only with the most peaceful intent. His first care was to
select a suitable site for his camp; he fixed it upon the
south-western side of the lagoon, and there calmly sat down to await
developments. Nor had he long to wait. Tamaiharanui, the high priest
and leading chief of the Ngai-Tahu tribe, accompanied by a native
named Hakitara, proceeded under commission from the people in the
_pa_ to inquire the purpose of so unexpected a visit. Hakitara
was a Nga-Puhi native, having come originally from the northern
portion of the Auckland Province. When Te Rauparaha had exchanged
salutations with him and the venerable Tamaiharanui, he proceeded to
furnish the explanation which they had come to seek. In the course of
his oration he recited a _tau_, or war song, the idiom of which
was more apparent to the Nga-Puhi than to his companion, who was less
learned in northern lore. This battle chant conveyed a message to
Hakitara which was sinister and disturbing. The protestations of Te
Rauparaha were most ardent in the direction of peace, and his
declarations full of the promise of friendship; but the words of his
song had been so suspiciously indicative of evil intent, that Hakitara
felt it incumbent upon him to advise the immediate return of
Tamaiharanui to the _pa_, while he himself remained in the Ngati-Toa
camp to pick up what scraps of useful information might drop from the
lips of incautious retainers. By dint of sedulous inquiry,
particularly amongst the slaves, he gleaned enough to stimulate his
suspicions, which were more than confirmed when he heard that the
northerners had desecrated a newly made grave which they had passed on
the march to the _pa_. Such an outrage to the dead of Ngai-Tahu was
not the act of friends; and now the living witnesses of Te Rauparaha's
hostility began to pour into Kaiapoi, viz., the fugitives who had
escaped from the slaughter at Omihi. For days they had wandered in the
bush and in the by-paths of the open lands, hoping to evade the clutch
of their pursuers; and when they arrived with their tale of terror,
something more than fair words were needed to convince the inhabitants
of the semi-beleaguered _pa_ that Ngati-Toa had come so far south on a
mission of peaceful commerce, and not of resentful war. Te Rauparaha,
with his usual clarity of vision, saw the predicament in which the
inopportune arrival of the fugitives had placed him, and promptly
determined upon a desperate expedient, which, he hoped, would allay
the dark suspicion which he hourly saw growing up around him, and
which, if unchecked, would assuredly frustrate his enterprise. Not
only did he feel it necessary to reiterate his assurances that nothing
but a desire to trade for greenstone had brought him to Kaiapoi, but
he did more. With a recklessness which only a critical situation could
justify, he permitted his principal lieutenants--a liberty hitherto
denied them--to freely enter the enemy's _pa_, and carry on, with
well-simulated earnestness, negotiations for the exchange of
greenstone for their own ancient fire-arms and doubtful powder.
Amongst the first of the Ngati-Toa chiefs to avail himself of this
permission was Te Pehi,[88] who, it will be remembered, had, with
fatal enthusiasm, inspired the raid, and urged it upon an unwilling
leader. Together with Pokaitara, Te Aratangata, Te Kohua, Te Hua Piko,
and several other chiefs equally renowned in Ngati-Toa warfare, Te
Pehi continued to visit and revisit the _pa_ for several days,
carrying on a brisk trade, and incidentally noting the interior
arrangements of the fortress, its people, and the chances of its
speedy capture. Meanwhile, the Ngai-Tahu agent in Te Rauparaha's camp
was not idle, and not the least of Hakitara's successes was the fact
that he had been able to ingratiate himself into the good opinion of
Te Rauparaha. That astute personage, usually so keen a judge of
character, was completely deceived by the clever Nga-Puhi, whom he had
hopes of weaning from the Ngai-Tahu cause. To this end he presented
him with one of the most attractive of his slaves, a lady named Te
Aka, whose charms it was hoped would prove sufficiently strong to draw
the Nga-Puhi warrior back to the north. But Te Rauparaha's cold
calculations were soon set at naught by the warmth of a human heart.
Te Aka was not a free woman. She was a slave, whose _pa_ and
whose people had been overrun and destroyed by the ruthless invader,
and within her breast there burned the undying desire and hope for
revenge. Therefore, when she and Hakitara came to understand each
other, there was soon a joint wit at work to worst the man who fondly
believed that the human passions were being harnessed to his
political schemes. So confident was he that he would win Hakitara
over, that he neglected even ordinary prudence in discussing his plans
within his hearing. To such excess was this overconfidence carried,
that one night he called his chiefs together to a council of war,
which was held under the eaves of the _whare_ which Hakitara occupied,
where every word could be heard by the occupants. Here the whole
scheme of the capture of Kaiapoi was discussed and decided upon; and
so hopeful was Te Rauparaha of success, that he boastingly remarked to
Te Rangihaeata, "Soon we shall have our _pa_." "Beware of the Nga-Puhi
man," was Rangihaeata's whispered advice; but Rauparaha dismissed the
warning by an impatient gesture and a petulant remark that nothing was
to be feared from that quarter. Hakitara had, however, been greedily
listening to all that had passed, and when the council broke up he was
in possession of every detail of the tactics by which the _pa_ was to
be assaulted on the morrow.
As might be surmised, sleep came but fitfully to the faithful Hakitara
that night, and just as the first silver ray of dawn was breaking in
the east, he rose, and, wrapping himself in a large dog-skin mat,
crept out of the hut into the grey morning, determined to warn his
friends in the _pa_, if fortune did not desert him. The Maori
system of warfare, though quaint in many respects, was practical
enough to include the posting of sentries round the camps; and, even
if they were not invariably vigilant, there was always the risk that
one might happen to be watchful at an awkward moment. This fear
haunted Hakitara as, with beating heart, he wormed his way between the
huts and through the tufts of waving tussock grass. Tradition records
that he was successful in eluding a direct challenge; and when he was
well beyond the circuit of the sentries, he rose to his feet and ran
with all his speed to the nearest gate of the _pa_. The gate was
instantly opened to him, and in a hurried whisper he bade the keeper
summon the chiefs to a conference in a neighbouring house. When the
warriors were assembled, he disclosed to them in hot, hurried words
all that he knew of Ngati-Toa's intentions, which, in remembrance of a
treaty negotiated only the previous day, could be regarded in no other
light than as a shameless breach of faith. The council decided that
they would not wait for the blow to fall upon them from outside, but
would forestall the northerners in their own methods. They knew that
some of the Ngati-Toa chiefs would, in keeping with the custom of the
past few days, visit them again for the purpose of trade; and they
were hopeful that, by a special effort, they might be able to induce
the great Te Rauparaha himself to come within the gates. It was agreed
that the chiefs, once within the walls, should be attacked and killed,
and that then a sortie should be made upon the unsuspecting camp
outside. Scarcely had this decision been arrived at, when Te Pehi and
several of his fellow-chiefs entered the _pa_ and began to mix with
the populace, who were now busy preparing for the business of the day,
and were in total ignorance of the decision of their leaders or the
circumstances which had dictated it. There was thus no change in the
demeanour of the people to excite uneasiness in the minds of Te Pehi
and his friends. They, on the other hand, knowing that their plans
were nearing fruition, and believing that the _pa_ was virtually in
the hollow of their hands, adopted a more insolent air, and were at no
pains to conceal the contempt with which they regarded the rights of
Ngai-Tahu property. Thus, Te Pehi boldly entered one of the houses,
and seizing a large block of greenstone, attached to it a rope of
flax, and proceeded to drag it towards the Hiaka-rere gate, evidently
intending to carry it into the northern camp.
The _pa_ was now alive with men and women, for the day was well
on, and the audacious cupidity of Te Pehi aroused both astonishment
and anger. As he strode towards the gate, he had to pass a group of
excited onlookers sitting in the _marae_, or open space which served
the purpose of a sports ground. One of these, Moimoi, rose and
challenged Te Pehi's right to purloin his greenstone in that
unceremonious fashion. With scorn unspeakable, Te Pehi turned upon his
interrogator, and in tones of bitter contempt inquired by what right
he, a menial, dared to call in question the actions of a chief. "You
of the crooked tattoo, what use would your ugly head be to me if I
were to carry it back with me to Kapiti? It would be worth nothing
towards the purchase of a musket. But," said he, turning to a stalwart
native standing near by, "here is a man whose head would be worth the
taking, but you with the worthless head, how dare you cavil at the
actions of the great Te Pehi?" The slighting reference to the
inartistic facial decoration of Moimoi was intended to be particularly
insulting, for every native was wont to pride himself upon the
completeness of his _moko_, and Te Pehi had good reason to regard
himself as something of an authority upon this branch of Maori art,
for his own tattoo was more than usually elaborate. But the most
alarming portion of his taunt was his thinly-veiled reference to the
sale of Moimoi's head. Every one knew that at this period a
considerable traffic had sprung up in native heads,[89] which were
preserved by a crude process and traded away to Europeans in exchange
for muskets. Te Pehi's reference to the matter could, then, only be
taken as an indication that during his visits to the _pa_ he had lent
his eye to business, and, in this connection, business meant the
assault and sacking of the fortress. The full force of this indiscreet
admission had flashed upon the astonished listeners; but, before they
could reply, their attention was diverted from the arrogance of Te
Pehi by another incident which had occurred at the Hiaka-rere gate.
Pokaitara, one of Te Rauparaha's most intrepid lieutenants, had
approached this entrance, and was seeking admission to the _pa_, which
was being denied him. Observing who the visitor was, Rongotara, the
superior resident chief of Kaiapoi, ordered the keeper of the gate to
admit him, exclaiming as he did so, "Welcome my younger brother's
lord," a reference to the fact that Rongotara's brother had been made
a prisoner at Omihi by Pokaitara, and was at that moment in his
keeping. The gate was immediately thrown open; but the Ngati-Toa had
no sooner bent his head beneath the portal than Rongotara dealt him a
crushing blow with his _miti_, or stone club, which he was carrying in
his hand, and the lifeless body fell with a heavy thud to the ground.
It was this opening episode in the Ngai-Tahu policy of checkmate which
had suddenly diverted attention from Te Pehi. But the incident had
been as visible to him as to those around him, and the moment he saw
it, the critical nature of his own position dawned upon him, and,
taking no further thought of the greenstone, he sprang with the
agility of a tiger towards the south-western angle of the palisading,
and commenced to scramble up the wall by clutching the vines which
bound the upright posts together. His plunge for safety would probably
have proved successful--for several shots which were fired at him flew
wide of the mark--had not Tangatahara, a Ngai-Tahu warrior of great
strength and personal courage, closed with him, and, pulling him to
the ground, despatched him with a blow from his tomahawk.[90] The
other northern chiefs who were in the _pa_ were apprised of the mêlée
which was proceeding by the sound of the fire-arms discharged against
Te Pehi, and were not slow to grasp the situation. Realising that they
had been trapped, they knew that it would be of little use attempting
to escape by the regular gateways, which were all securely guarded;
and, with one exception, those who were free to do so flew to the
walls, hoping to scale them, and so get safely to their camp. But they
were for the most part either overpowered by numbers and tomahawked on
the spot, or were shot while scrambling up the _aka_ vines. The
exception referred to was Te Aratangata, who happened to be at the
northern end of the _pa_, and was at this juncture bargaining to
secure a famous greenstone _mere_ called by the Ngai-Tahu people "Te
Rau-hikihiki." The moment he saw what was happening, he dashed toward
the gate Huirapa, hoping to force his way past the guard, who, he
supposed, could offer but feeble resistance to his own exceptional
strength, courage, and skill.
There is every reason to believe that Rongotara rather precipitated
matters by killing Pokaitara at the gate, as it had been decided that
an attempt should first be made to induce the great Te Rauparaha
himself to enter the _pa_, in the hope of including him in the
holocaust. Still, the plans of the Kaiapoi chiefs were sufficiently
mature to meet the emergency when it suddenly arose; and so Te
Aratangata discovered to his alarm that, although he was at the
further end of the _pa_ from that at which Te Pehi had been
attacked, he was just as closely surrounded by enemies. When he
started for the gate, he had virtually to fight every inch of the way.
He had little difficulty in disposing of the first few who intercepted
his path; but, as he drew nearer to the gate, his assailants
increased, and before he had struggled on many yards he was attacked
by over twenty persons armed with all manner of weapons. Against those
who ventured at close quarters he valiantly defended himself with his
_mere_, all the time pressing on towards the gate. A gun-shot wound
temporarily checked his onward course, and he was soon further
handicapped by several spear-thrusts, which left the spears dangling
in the fleshy parts of his body, and from which he found it impossible
to disengage himself, pressed as he was on every side. These
difficulties perceptibly weakened his defence, but he was still able
to fight on, keeping his opponents at bay by swift and desperate blows
with his _mere_, which, up to this moment, had accounted for all who
had ventured within his reach. The brave Ngati-Toa had now reached
within a few paces of the gate, and may have even yet had dreams of
escape, when the crowning disaster came in the breaking of his _mere_.
A shot, which had been intended for his body, struck the greenstone
blade, and shattered the faithful weapon into a hundred fragments,
leaving only the butt in Aratangata's hand. Now utterly defenceless,
weakened by his wounds, and hampered by the dragging spears, the
undaunted chief turned upon his assailants, and, with his last
strength, grappled with those who came within his reach. The unequal
struggle could not, however, be long maintained. Emboldened by his
helpless condition, his pursuers pressed in upon him with angry
tumult, and he was borne to the ground by Te Koreke, who finished the
deadly work with a succession of blows with his tomahawk upon the
prostrate warrior's head and neck.
So fell Te Aratangata, and so fell the flower of the Ngati-Toa tribe
that day. In all, eight great chiefs[91] were killed, who, by their
heroism on the field and their sagacity in council, had materially
aided Te Rauparaha in all his great achievements. They had added
brilliancy to his battles, lustre to his victories, and had lent a
wisdom to his administration, whereby the fruits of his enterprise
had not been wasted by internecine strife. So dire a tragedy as the
death of the princes of his tribe was a great blow to Te Rauparaha.
But it is doubtful whether the sacrifice of so much mental and
physical fibre was more keenly felt by the Ngati-Toa chief than the
loss of prestige and damage to his reputation, which he might
reasonably apprehend from his being outwitted at his own game, and
that, too, by a people whom he had hitherto despised as opponents.
That they would turn upon him in what he chose to regard as an
unprovoked attack was something which was not reckoned upon in his
philosophy, for he had trusted to his blandishments to soothe away
their suspicions, or to his great name and reputation to awe them into
submission. And when the blow fell, and he saw his patiently laid
plans tumbling about his ears, he received the result with mingled
feelings of surprise, indignation, and something akin to dismay. In
this frame of mind he deemed it expedient to anticipate any further
unexpected eventualities by withdrawing his force and making good his
retreat with as little delay as possible. Consequently his camp was at
once broken up, and the little army made its dejected way across the
plain to Double Corner, where the canoes had been left, and next day
Te Rauparaha set sail for Omihi and Kapiti, having, as the result of
his first raid upon Kaiapoi,[92] added neither greenstone to his
treasure nor glory to his reputation as a warrior.
For the better part of two years Te Rauparaha nursed his wrath against
Ngai-Tahu, and spent the intervening time in devising schemes whereby
he might secure a vengeance commensurate with the disgrace of his
repulse and the death of his well-loved friends. One thing on which he
had fully determined was that Ngai-Tahu should pay for their temerity
with the purest of their blood, for he would take no plebeian in
payment for so royal a soul as Te Pehi. His schemes were therefore
directed against the life of Tamaiharanui,[93] who has already been
described as the embodiment of spiritual and temporal power in the
southern tribe. He was the hereditary representative of all that stood
for nobility amongst the sons of Tahu. His person was regarded as so
sacred that the common people scarcely dared to look upon his face. He
could only be addressed by his fellow-chiefs with the greatest
deference and in the most reverential language; and if, while passing
through the congested streets of a village, his shadow should fall
upon a _whata_ or a _rua_, the storehouse and its contents would be
immediately destroyed, to prevent the sacrilege of a tribesman
consuming food upon which even the shade of so sacred a personage had
lighted. Indeed, so sanctified and ceremonious an individual was he,
that his presence was sometimes oppressive to those who were not
accustomed to live in an atmosphere of ritual; for the slightest
disregard of what was due to one so endowed with the spirit of the
gods might involve them at any moment in the loss of possessions, and
even of life.
[Illustration: GILLET's WHALING STATION, KAPITI, 1842.
From a sketch by Gilfillan,
by kind permission of Miss Gilfillan.]
To secure so eminent a scion of Ngai-Tahu aristocracy would be a
trophy indeed; but Te Rauparaha knew that it was no ordinary task that
he was contemplating. An attack upon regular lines might easily defeat
its own purpose, for a chief so sacred to the tribe as Tamaiharanui
would scarcely be permitted to sacrifice himself upon the field of
battle, even if his own inclinations impelled him to lead his people,
a point of personal courage by no means too well established.[94]
Strategy must therefore be employed, and it must be strategy of the
most delicate kind, for, in the naïve language of the younger Te
Rauparaha, "the chief must be enticed, even as the _kaka_ is enticed."
For the scheme which was finally adopted it has been claimed that Te
Rauparaha was not originally responsible, but that the idea was first
conceived by a relative of his, named Hohepa Tama-i-hengia, who had
been working on board a whaler in the southern latitudes, and heard
the story of Te Pehi's death on the ship calling in at a bay on the
coast of Otago. Hohepa, who, in his contact with the European, had
lost none of that eternal thirst for revenge which marked the ancient
Maori, at once besought the captain to employ his vessel in the
capture of Tamaiharanui, promising a large reward from Te Rauparaha on
his handing over the prisoner at Kapiti. The captain, however, was
discouraged in the idea by the rest of the ship's company, who were
eager to reach Queen Charlotte Sound, there to resume their whaling
operations; and thus the execution of the brilliant suggestion had
perforce to be suspended until the ingenious author of it himself
reached Kapiti. There the daring plan was laid before the fighting
chiefs of the tribe, who were readily convinced of its practicability.
Their first overtures were made to Captain Briggs, whose ship, the
_Dragon_, was then lying at Kapiti. This seaman has, with a frankness
amounting to brutality, explained that he ultimately declined their
proposals, not because the enterprise was repugnant to him, but
because Te Rauparaha insisted upon taking more men with him than he
deemed it prudent to carry in his ship. The manner in which the
captain of the _Dragon_ was approached was diplomatic in the extreme.
The chiefs explained to him that Te Pehi had been to England, and
that, as a mark of gratitude for his generous treatment there, he had
always been the friend of the English. Tamaiharanui, on the other
hand, had killed more white men than any other chief in New Zealand,
from which fact they adroitly argued that they and Captain Briggs had
a mutual interest in compassing his death. Briggs seems to have been
convinced that Tamaiharanui was a "monster," whose death would be a
distinct benefit to society, and he unhesitatingly offered to take Te
Rauparaha and two of his best men to Akaroa to effect the capture. Te
Rauparaha and Te Hiko, however, stipulated for twenty men; but, as the
cautious Briggs considered that "this would have given the chiefs more
power in the vessel than he cared to part with," he declined further
discussion. This rebuff delayed, but did not extinguish, the purpose
of the chiefs. They still hoped that other captains would be more
amenable to persuasion or more susceptible to reward. There was thus
considerable excitement at Kapiti on a certain day towards the close
of the year 1830, when a vessel was seen rounding the Taheke Point,
and the cry of "A ship, a ship!" was raised from every corner of the
settlement. Rauparaha immediately ordered out his canoe, and, putting
off with Te Hiko and a full crew, boarded the stranger, which proved
to be the British brig _Elizabeth_ of 236 tons, commanded by Captain
Stewart.[95] The chiefs were fortunate in the type of man with whom
they had come to negotiate. Stewart was one of the semi-buccaneer
breed, who, at this period, were all too common in these waters, and
whose depredations have contributed so many of the ugly pages of our
country's history. Nor was this case to be an exception. Before
committing himself, however, Stewart took the precaution of consulting
Captain Briggs, who advised him not to undertake to carry more natives
on board than he could safely control. But this counsel[96] was not
followed, and a bargain was eventually struck, whereby it was agreed
that the captain was to carry the chiefs and their party to Whanga-roa
(now Akaroa) Harbour in Banks's Peninsula, in consideration for which
he was to receive fifty tons of dressed flax--valued roughly at
£1,200--immediately upon his return to Kapiti. The conclusion of this
contract gave intense satisfaction to the chiefs, and according to his
son, "the heart of Te Rauparaha lived in joy."
Some of the apologists for Captain Stewart have endeavoured to show
that he was not made fully aware of the real intentions of the chiefs,
and that, when the savage purpose of the voyage was borne in upon him,
he was then powerless to avert the tragic scenes which were afterwards
enacted. It has been further urged in extenuation of his crime that,
when he arrived on the coast of New Zealand, he discovered to his
dismay that his cargo was totally unsuitable to excite trade with the
natives, and that he was, therefore, constrained, in the interests of
his employers, to accept a charter against which there was no law, and
which promised a rich and speedy remuneration. What measure of truth
there may be in the former defence it is now difficult to determine.
It is possible that events developed in a manner and to an extent that
had not been contemplated by Stewart; but it must be remembered that
he had discussed with due deliberation the whole project with his
friend Captain Briggs, and that, if he afterwards found himself
powerless to control the passions of his charterers, the blame was
entirely his own for disdaining the advice of his fellow captain
regarding a limitation of numbers. As to the unmarketable nature of
his cargo, that specious plea is flatly disproved by the ship's
manifest. So far from the goods carried being unsuitable for trade,
there was scarcely anything brought in the _Elizabeth_ for which the
natives were not eagerly craving. Indeed, there is no room to doubt
that, had Captain Stewart chosen to confine himself to legitimate
commerce, he could have easily bartered his guns and his powder, his
flints and his tobacco, for a cargo which would have given his
employers an adequate return, without requiring his zeal in their
behalf to outrage the feelings of humanity. Similarly, it is scarcely
to be supposed that Stewart's knowledge of the law was so wide that he
was aware there was no statutory decree prohibiting his entering into
this unholy compact. He was clearly just as indifferent to its moral
aspect as he was unaware of its legal bearing. Otherwise he would have
known that, viewed from this standpoint, there was no distinction
between a crime committed against a savage and that perpetrated upon a
civilised being. The absence of any law regulating the conduct of
individuals placed in such circumstances is no palliation for the
outrage which he committed; and, so far from his being unwittingly led
into an error of judgment, his treatment of Tamaiharanui after his
capture dispels any supposition that he had repented of his bargain,
or that he was in the least degree revolted by the excesses of the
natives. Having regard to these facts, the impression conveyed by a
study of the general character of the man, as revealed by his actions,
is, that the purpose of the voyage would not have caused him much
scruple, so long as the reward was ample and easily obtained. Howbeit,
a few days after the bargain was struck, he received on board his
vessel Te Rauparaha and one hundred and seventy of his followers,
accompanied by five of his remaining lieutenants--Te Rangihaeata, Te
Hiko, Tungia, and Tama-i-hengia, and on October 29th set sail for
Banks's Peninsula.
The voyage appears to have been propitious enough, for, in due course,
the vessel arrived at Whanga-roa Harbour, on the shores of which then
stood the Takapuneke _pa_, and now nestles the sequestered town of
Akaroa.[97] The coming of a ship was an event much more rare at Akaroa
than it was at Kapiti, and, consequently, the natives of the _pa_ were
stirred to the highest pitch of excitement, and desired to enter into
immediate trade with the vessel, which they misjudged to be an honest
whaler.[98] Meanwhile Te Rauparaha had carefully concealed all his men
beneath the hatches, and enjoined upon them the strictest seclusion;
for the success of his scheme altogether depended upon the concealment
of the fact that a force of natives was on board. Acting under
instructions from the chief, Captain Stewart, through his interpreter,
forbade any of the resident natives to board the _Elizabeth_ until
Tamaiharanui had returned; for it so happened that, at the time of the
brig's arrival at Akaroa, that chief was absent from his _pa_,
superintending the preparation of a cargo of flax which he had sold to
an English captain. A message was accordingly despatched to Wairewa,
urging him to come and see a _pakeha_ who was eager to trade. It was
not, however, till the eighth day that Tama arrived, and, during all
that time, the Ngati-Toa warriors had been cooped up under the
hatches, being permitted only a few minutes on deck under the cover of
darkness. These precautions prevented any suspicion reaching the
shore; and yet some doubt seems to have lurked in the minds of the
resident people, for they eagerly inquired of Cowell, the interpreter,
whether there were any natives on board, and were put off with the
laughing assurance that such was impossible, as the vessel had just
come down from Sydney. This statement was seemingly fair enough; but,
if Sydney was the last port of call, how came those _hutiwai_ burrs
clinging to the clothes of some of the crew, which a keen-eyed native
had just espied? _Hutiwai_ burrs do not grow in Sydney, nor upon the
broad ocean. Then the lie that came handiest was that on the way down
they had called at the Bay of Islands, and the sailors had probably
picked up the burrs while carousing on shore. The evasion, however
palpable, was at least successful in silencing the doubts which were
just growing to dangerous proportions in the minds of Tamaiharanui's
people, and the incident had no influence in cooling their ardour for
trade, for further messengers were shortly afterwards despatched to
hasten their chief's coming. When Tamaiharanui came, he brought with
him his wife, Te Whe, his sister, and his little daughter
Ngaroimata,[99] a name full of pathetic suggestion. He was cordially
welcomed by the captain, who invited him to his cabin below with every
show of courtesy and hospitality. But no sooner was the chief seated
than the door opened, and, to his intense amazement, his mortal
enemies, Te Rauparaha and Te Hiko, stood before him. To overpower and
bind him was the work of but a few moments, and then the Ngati-Toa let
loose upon him the full flood of their invective, taunting him in
bitter scorn with his infantile simplicity in falling so easily into
their trap. Te Hiko added insult to injury by advancing and drawing
back the captive's upper lip, sneeringly remarking, "So these are the
teeth which ate my father."
In all innocence of what was passing within the cabin, the followers
of Tamaiharanui swarmed round the ship's side in their canoes,
clamouring for admission, so that they might trade for the needful
guns and casks of powder. This permission was granted to a few at a
time, who, immediately they reached the deck, were conducted by the
crew to the open hatchway and promptly shoved headlong into the hold,
where they were secured by Te Rauparaha's men and made prisoners as
easily and as simply as their chief had been. The failure of these
people to return to the shore evidently did not excite any
uneasiness. It was no uncommon thing for natives visiting a ship in
the offing to remain for several days, or even longer, if their
presence could be tolerated. Events were thus playing into the hands
of Te Rauparaha more effectually even than he might have reasonably
expected; and so, on the evening of the second day after the capture
of Tamaiharanui, having secured all the visitors to the ship, he was
now in a position to deal with those who had remained on land. Boats
were accordingly got out some hours after nightfall, and a strong and
well-armed party was sent ashore to attack the Takapuneke _pa_.
Ngai-Tahu accounts of this fight would have us believe that an heroic
resistance was offered to a cyclonic assault; but the circumstances
render such an account most improbable. The place was not a fighting
_pa_, and for the purposes of war was practically defenceless. The
people, too, were awakened from their sleep by the tumult of the
attack, and, shorn as they were of their leaders and their warriors,
there was little hope of any organised defence being made. The attack
therefore became a rout, and the rout a massacre; and before morning
broke the people of Akaroa were either helpless captives, bound in the
evil-smelling hold of a ship, fugitives flying for dear life, or lying
dead amongst the smoking ruins of their ancestral home.
Having achieved a complete success, Te Rauparaha collected a quantity
of human flesh for consumption on the voyage, and set sail for Kapiti,
where the final scene in the tragedy was to be enacted. Tamaiharanui
and his family were housed in one of the fore cabins, and apparently
some degree of liberty was permitted him, for on the first night out
from Akaroa,[100] he, after consultation with his wife, seized a
favourable opportunity to strangle his little daughter as she lay
asleep, and afterwards cast the lifeless body into the sea. This
extreme course he justified to his conscience as averting the eternal
disgrace of her ever becoming the wife of one of his enemies. His
unnatural action, however, had the effect of rousing the fury of his
captors.[101] Fearing that his next step would be to take his own
life, and so deprive them of the legitimate fruits of their mission,
they took immediate and adequate precautions by pinioning him fast in
a position which caused him exquisite torture, and his sufferings they
watched with intense delight. On the voyage northward high revels were
kept by the natives, who, if the interpreter's testimony is to be
credited, were even permitted to cook the flesh of their victims in
the ship's coppers, without protest from the captain or any of his
equally degenerate crew.
Upon the arrival of the _Elizabeth_ at Kapiti, on the 11th of
November, the _pas_ were almost deserted, the majority of the
people being absent in the swamps and on the hill-sides, preparing the
flax which was to be Captain Stewart's payment. The news, however,
soon spread that the great Ngai-Tahu chief was a captive on board, and
crowds came flocking from the mainland to verify the reported triumph
of their leader. The major part of the prisoners were landed on the
12th of November, and the natives now expected that Tamaiharanui would
also be handed over to them at once, to be disposed of in their own
fashion. But on this point Captain Stewart was obdurate, for he
probably saw but little prospect of securing his flax if once the
prisoner passed beyond his keeping. He therefore resisted the tribe's
demands for this species of _habeas corpus_, and detained the
chief, heaping upon him the additional pain and ignominy of keeping
him in irons until he could be redeemed by the fulfilment of Te
Rauparaha's promise. Either this was no simple matter, or, more
likely still, his followers, having to some extent satisfied their
craving for excitement and revenge, relaxed their efforts in the
fields, preferring to discuss in the _kaingas_ the strange adventures
of their comrades at Akaroa. From whatever cause, there was a distinct
failure on their part to complete the contract. Day after day went
past, and still a residue of the flax was wanting. At the end of six
weeks, Captain Stewart was persuaded that it was hopeless to wait
longer, and, probably wishing himself well out of the whole business,
he handed Tamaiharanui over to Te Rauparaha, and made his course with
all speed to Sydney, arriving on January 14, 1831.[102]
The prisoner was taken on shore in Rauparaha's canoe, and, at a great
feast held in honour of the occasion, was surrendered to the wives of
Te Pehi to do with him as they pleased. A final appeal for life was
made to his captor by Tama; but Te Rauparaha took high ground, and
replied that if it was a matter that rested with himself, he would
most certainly spare him, but the death of Te Pehi was a calamity
which affected the whole tribe of Ngati-Toa, and hence the final
decision must rest with them. About the precise time and mode[103] of
the unfortunate chief's death there is much doubt, for scarcely any
two accounts agree, except in the central fact that Tamaiharanui
subsequently met his fate at the hands of Tiaia, Te Pehi's principal
widow. The most favourable view of this lady's conduct in revenging
the death of her lamented husband is given us by her own tribe, who
have averred that "on landing, the chief was given up to the widow of
Te Pehi, who took him and his wife to her own house, giving up half to
their use. They talked like friends to each other, and the widow
behaved so kindly to him, that a stranger would have taken them for
man and wife, rather than a doomed captive and his implacable enemy.
She used even to clothe him in her finest garments and deck his head
with choice feathers. This continued for about two weeks, until she
had assembled her friends, or thought her victim sufficiently fat to
kill.[104] She then suddenly caused him to be seized and bound, with
his arms stretched to a tree, and whilst he was in this position she
took a long iron spear, with which she stabbed him in the jugular
artery, and drank his warm blood as it gushed forth."
Harrowing as this spectacle must have been, and awful as it is to
contemplate, it must be remembered that the manner of Tamaiharanui's
death was not more savage than that of many another leader of men,
perpetrated in Christian countries and in the name of a higher cause.
By the Maori code the death of the Akaroa chief was not only
justified, but necessary to appease the spirit of the departed Te
Pehi, and the more humiliating his death, the more adequate the
compensation to the dead. A student[105] of Maori life and character,
than whom perhaps none have had better opportunities of mastering
Ngai-Tahu history, and who, from his calling, could scarcely be
accused of callousness towards Tamaiharanui's sufferings, has given it
as his mature opinion that, "base as the means adopted for his capture
were, and cruel as his fate was, it is impossible to feel much pity
for Tamaiharanui. His punishment was hardly more than he deserved. The
treatment he received at the hands of Ngati-Toa was little more than a
repetition of the cruelties which he had himself inflicted upon
members of his own tribe." Possibly the knowledge that he would not
have acted differently himself assisted the unhappy captive to resign
himself to his fate. For, although he has been described as both cruel
and cowardly, by one whose verdict it is not easy to challenge, this
much must be laid to his credit: that neither the mental nor the
physical torture invented for him by his barbarous enemies was
sufficient to break down his rugged fortitude or to tame his defiant
spirit.
When the _Elizabeth_ reached Sydney, the circumstances attending
the death of the Akaroa chief were reported to Governor Darling by Mr.
Gordon Browne, and the Governor, with commendable promptitude, ordered
the arrest of Stewart and proceeded to put him on his trial. The
depositions were referred to the Crown Solicitor on February 17, but
that official expressed doubts as to the statutory power of the colony
to bring the offender to justice, it not being clear whether offences
committed in New Zealand against New Zealanders were punishable under
the laws of New South Wales.[106] Darling was in no way disconcerted
by this legal difficulty, but urged with some vehemence that the point
should be tested, holding that it was "a case in which the character
of the nation was implicated, and that every possible exertion should
be used to bring the offenders to justice." Stewart retained Dr.
Wardell, a lawyer eminent in his day, for his defence, and while the
officers of the Crown were seeking to make good their ground, the
delay was utilised to spirit away the witnesses whose testimony might
be fatal to Stewart. Meanwhile, the _Elizabeth_ was allowed to put to
sea under another captain, and Stewart was held on bail,
notwithstanding the strenuous protests of his counsel. With the
witnesses out of the way, Dr. Wardell became more confident, and
boldly demanded the release of his client. But the Governor could not
but be influenced by the prayer of the more honourably disposed white
residents of New Zealand, who expressed the fear that their "lives
would be made answerable for the proceedings of their countrymen," or
by the touching appeal of the natives, who came personally to plead
that speedy steps might be taken by England to put a curb upon the
unbridled behaviour of her degenerate sons. The curb which Darling
proposed to apply was to appoint a resident representative of the
colony in New Zealand, and he suggested to the Secretary of State for
the Colonies that Captain Sturt[107] should be employed in this
capacity. The carrying out of this scheme was delayed by the recall
of the Governor, and the appointment of Sir Richard Bourke as his
successor, to whom Darling deemed it prudent to leave the initiation
of a system which it would be his lot to administer.
All this time justice was tardily picking her way amongst the
complicated meshes of the law, and it was not until the 21st of May
that Stewart was called upon to face his trial. Even then the Crown
Solicitor was not prepared to proceed upon the main indictment, but
sought to get a conviction upon a minor offence, to which course Dr.
Wardell took the strongest exception, and warmly demanded the
discharge of Stewart's recognisances. The Crown justified its action
on the ground that its witnesses were not forthcoming, for great
remissness had been shown in letting them depart; and, notwithstanding
Dr. Wardell's protest that it was unfair "to hold Stewart to bail in a
sum of £2,000 for an indefinite period," the Chief Justice decided to
adjourn the matter, and allow it to come up for consideration on a
future day. When that day arrived, the Crown Solicitor was still
unready, and applied for leave to abandon the charge of misdemeanour,
and proceed upon the main information so soon as his witnesses were
available. But his witnesses were the same intangible quantity that
they had been ever since they had first vanished, and there was not
the remotest prospect of their appearing. Dr. Wardell knew this, and
bantered his learned friend upon his unfortunate predicament, in which
he was compelled to "skip from a charge of murder to a misdemeanour,
and then to murder back again." He earnestly pleaded the hardship
imposed upon Stewart by these delays, for which he was in no way
responsible, and claimed either instant dismissal or immediate trial
for his client, who, he believed, or affected to believe, was the
unhappy victim of circumstances.[108] To all this the Crown might
have justly retorted that the disability placed upon Stewart was
gentleness itself compared with his own conduct towards his fettered
captive. Possibly this view was influencing the Court, for it still
refused to take the responsibility at that stage of discharging the
prisoner, but appointed the 20th June as the day on which Dr. Wardell
might make application for the discharge of Stewart's recognisances.
But when, after further adjournments, that application was argued on
June 30th, the Crown was unable to convince the Court that the accused
man should be indefinitely detained, and the Bench, reluctantly, no
doubt, announced that he must be "discharged on his own recognisances
in the sum of £1,000." So ended Governor Darling's sincere endeavour
to make national reparation for one of the blackest crimes which have
ever dishonoured the relations of the white man with the Maori, a deed
which must be counted dark even at a time when the spirit of humanity
seemed to slumber. Whatever palliation the apologist may find for the
rough sea captain, whose occupation and environment were not conducive
to the gentler qualities, it is not to the credit of a civilised
community that its public opinion was apathetic in the presence of
such an atrocity as that in which Captain Stewart had steeped his
hands. It is to be feared that the Governor failed to receive the
support from his officers, or from the community, which a jealousy for
the national honour might have demanded;[109] while it is equally true
that active sympathy with Stewart was largely responsible for the
ease with which the witnesses were got out of the way. It was,
perhaps, due to the fact that he was never brought to trial, rather
than to any other cause, that no jury of Sydneyites acquitted Stewart.
The tidings of Te Rauparaha's successes in the south were rapidly
filtering to the ears of his friends in the north, by the agency of
the devoted messengers who were repeatedly travelling backwards to
their old home. With each fresh tale of victory told by ardent tongues
to wondering ears, some new hope or ambition was awakened in the
breast of the Ngati-Raukawa who still lingered in their settlements
round Lake Taupo. Apart from the larger migrations which from time to
time came down to join Te Rauparaha, less important bands were
continually being attracted by the glory of Ngati-Toa's splendid
achievements. Many of these soldiers of fortune reached Otaki and
Kapiti with little adventure; for there was no inclination on the part
of the subdued remnant of the Ngati-Apa to risk a conflict with these
fiery spirits as they pushed across the ferny hills of Rangitikei. But
one small company, travelling further to the northward than was
customary, came into conflict with, and met disaster at the hands of,
the Whanganui people, who secured the momentary advantage of a
victory. From out of this defeat, two young men, Te Puke and his
brother, Te Ao, succeeded in making their way to Kapiti, where the
story of their misfortune made a deep impression upon chiefs and
people alike. But matters more urgent and nearer home were pressing in
upon the chief, and because of lack of opportunity, rather than of
desire, the day of reckoning with Whanganui must be indefinitely
postponed.
The business which thus preoccupied the mind of Te Rauparaha was the
need of adjusting the differences and unravelling the complications,
which were daily accumulating, as the result of accretions to his
forces. With the arrival of every new contingent of warriors,
provision had to be made for their immediate entertainment, and for
their ultimate settlement on the land, in order to leave them
comfortable and contented. This their mutual jealousies made somewhat
difficult, and no small measure of diplomacy was needed to avert civil
ruptures, such as afterwards threatened to destroy all that unity and
unquestioning devotion to his authority had accomplished. Though there
was this simmering of discontent between the men of Ngati-Raukawa and
Ngati-Awa, fortunately for Te Rauparaha no crisis occurred, and any
ill-feeling that might lead to such an event was soon forgotten in the
thrilling announcement that another attempt was about to be made to
capture the great _pa_ at Kaiapoi. This decision was, we are led to
understand, arrived at somewhat hurriedly, and was largely accelerated
because of a vision seen by a hoary seer of the tribe, who had
interpreted the manifestation as a mandate to go forward to the
attack. His _mata_, or prophecy, has been preserved amongst the oral
treasures of Ngati-Toa, and has been freely translated as follows:--
"What is the wind?
It is north-east, it is south.
It is east in the offing, oh!
Come then, O Raha!
That you may see the fire
On the crimson flat of Kaiapohia.
By the prow of the canoe,
By the handle of the paddle,
The hold of the canoe of Maui
May be overturned to cover it.
Then pound, pound the sea!
And stir it with your paddles.
Behold my flock of curlews
Hovering over the backwater
Of that Waipara there.
The fight will be on the other side;
Embrace it, get closer and closer.
Fierce will rage the fight."