Tamaiharanui, and all the carnage that had followed upon the Akaroa
raid, Te Rauparaha would have felt that he had taken sufficient
vengeance upon Ngai-Tahu for the slaying of Te Pehi and his comrades
in arms. We are, however, assured by an authority deeply versed in the
intricacies of Maori etiquette that no such limit was placed upon his
actions, and that, so far from his proposal to again attack Kaiapoi
being anything but strictly "correct," no alternative course would
have adequately met the exigencies of the case. No sooner, therefore,
was the chief's decision to obey the _tohunga's_ call to arms publicly
proclaimed, than preparatory measures on an exceptional scale were
commenced with alacrity and enthusiasm. There was to be no trifling
with the occasion, which, it was generally understood, would be
pregnant with the fate of tribes; for Te Rauparaha had determined that
as the result of this priest-ordained raid either Ngati-Toa or
Ngai-Tahu would be for ever humbled in the dust. The force to be
raised was to consist of seven hundred and fifty warriors, and only
the pick of the men were to be taken--the Ngati-Toa, the Ngati-Raukawa
and Ngati-Awa tribes contributing their quota in nearly equal
proportions. The traffic in arms and ammunition had now become so
lucrative at Kapiti that there was no difficulty in arming every man
with a musket more or less serviceable. Food was also abundant, for so
rich had been the harvest of captives that at this time, it is said,
Te Rauparaha had upwards of two thousand slaves constantly employed in
planting or reaping the crops, which grew abundantly on the alluvial
flats along the mainland coast. The question of transport presented
greater difficulty. The conveyance of so large a force across the
rough waters of Cook Strait was a serious problem, as there was no
adequate supply of canoes for the purpose. This perplexity was,
however, solved by the decision to transport the force in sections.
The first division was to be landed at the Wairau, with instructions
to march over the inland track, which led through the wild and
picturesque Wairau Gorge, and over the Hanmer Plains, to a rendezvous
appointed for them at the mouth of the Waipara River. While this
detour was being made purely in the interests of adventure, the
remainder of the warriors were to embark at Kapiti, and make their way
by slow stages down the coast, until they should unite with the inland
party at the Waipara. Here the canoes were to be beached, and the
whole force was then to march rapidly upon the doomed _pa_, in the
hope of surprising the inhabitants and carrying the fortress by one
swift and resolute stroke.
So soon as the summer of 1831 was sufficiently advanced,[110] these
plans were put into execution, and, as far as is known, were carried
out with admirable precision. The two sections of the allied forces
met at the appointed place, and, with as little delay as was
permissible, set off in good order across the plain. But their
movements had not been so secretly conducted as could have been
wished; for the fleet of canoes had been espied coming down the coast,
and a breathless messenger had carried the startling intelligence to
the people in the _pa_. The first impulse of the latter was to
gather all the people in from the fields and out-stations, and then to
consult the patron deity of the tribe, and endeavour to ascertain by a
process of revelation what the issue of the invasion was to be. The
Rev. Canon Stack has left on record a description of the elaborate but
idolatrous ceremonial by which the movements of a wooden image,
dangled in the hands of a shrieking priest, were to reveal the future.
The consultation of the _atua_ was most piously performed at a
spot outside the _pa_, consecrated for the purpose of this and
similar religious rites. There the prescribed questions were put to
the nodding image, in the presence of a trembling people, and the
answer, as read by the priests, was that there was to be one defeat.
This prophecy they immediately interpreted as foretelling the ultimate
repulse and humiliation of the approaching enemy. So satisfactory a
termination to the toro was received with much congratulation, and
served instantly to revive the drooping spirits of the people, who
returned in jubilant procession to the _pa_. But the gates were
scarcely closed before the muskets of Te Rauparaha's men were heard
snapping in the distance, as they kept up a running fire upon some
belated stragglers.
That the _pa_ was surprised is now a matter of history, but
fortunately for its slender garrison, Te Rauparaha did not realise how
hopelessly unprepared they were. During the year or more which had
elapsed since his raid upon Akaroa, the people of Kaiapoi had been
deeply immersed in the endeavour to cultivate a trade with the
itinerant whalers who paid their fitful visits to Whangaraupo[111] and
other parts of Banks's Peninsula. In their anxiety to make the utmost
of these infrequent opportunities, they had lost sight of the
probability of another attack upon their settlement, and this unwary
attitude had been encouraged by the fond belief that the difficulties
of transporting from Kapiti a force large enough to assault the
_pa_ with any prospect of success were so formidable that even Te
Rauparaha would never seriously contemplate such an undertaking. How
illusory these dreams of safety were, and how little they understood
the dogged spirit of the man against whom they were called upon to
contend, they now realised to their cost. At the moment of Te
Rauparaha's arrival the _pa_ was deserted, except for a guard of
old people and a number of women and children. The greater part of the
population had only a few days before gone off to Whangaraupo, in
company with the influential Otago chief Taiaroa, who had been paying
a friendly visit to Kaiapoi. Some had gone merely to bid their great
kinsman farewell; and so remote was the need of strong arms and stout
hearts at home considered that many of the younger men were purposing
to travel southward with him to Otakou.[112] Kaiapoi was thus
practically denuded of its fighting men, and it says much for the
courage and ingenuity of those who were left that, in this sudden
emergency, they were able to make so brave a show along its ramparts
as to utterly deceive the northern leader. Had the _pa_ been attacked
promptly and vigorously, there is no room to doubt that it would have
fallen, for its thin veneer of resistance must soon have been pierced;
but this was one of the few occasions on which the Ngati-Toa chief's
clearness of perception and promptness of decision failed him, and the
price of his vacillation was a long weary siege, and the loss, to him,
of many valuable lives.
As a preliminary step in the defence of the _pa_, the Kaiapoi
people had hurriedly removed the few temporary houses and fences which
had been erected immediately in front of the landward approach, and
which would have afforded some degree of shelter to the approaching
enemy. Their destruction left not only an unbroken view of the
movements of the enemy, but deprived them of every vestige of cover,
so that, in rushing to the assault, they had to pass over ground
exposed to the pitiless fire of the defenders. For this reason, the
first attack was repulsed with considerable loss, as was also a
second, which was delivered with some additional energy. The defenders
had entrenched themselves behind the first line of palisades, and,
with their bodies protected by the deep ditch which ran the whole
width of the narrow isthmus between the converging swamps, they were
able to concentrate their fire upon the advancing warriors with so
deadly an effect that Te Rauparaha was led to believe the defence to
be much more formidable than it really was. Surprised that his coming
had been so evidently anticipated and so amply provided against, and
irritated to find himself baffled in his hope of snatching a victory
from a napping victim, he retired beyond the range of the Ngai-Tahu
guns to deliberate on his next move. As the result of a consultation
with Rangihaeata, Te Hiko, and his other lieutenants, it was agreed
that all hope of carrying the fortress by a _coup de main_ must
now be abandoned, and it was decided to adopt the more prosaic
course of investing the _pa_ and subjecting it to the annoyance
and humiliation of a regular siege.
A camp was formed immediately in front of the _pa_, and so placed
as to intercept the path which led to its main entrance. A wing of
this camp stretched round amongst the sand-hills to the westward, so
as to command the approach to the Huirapa gate. In these quarters
Ngati-Toa and their allies sat down in patience, to tempt the enemy to
a sortie, but ever ready to profit by any momentary looseness or
indiscretion on the part of the defenders. Meantime a few of the
residents of Kaiapoi who had been shut out when its gates were closed,
but had succeeded in evading capture by their superior knowledge of
the surrounding maze of swamps, had fled southward to carry the news
of the invasion to their friends who had gone to Whangaraupo with
Taiaroa. These messengers were fortunate in intercepting their
tribesmen before they had departed for the south, and, at the earnest
solicitation of his Kaiapoi relations, Taiaroa agreed to return and
lead the defence of their fortress. All possible reinforcements were
speedily gathered from the Peninsula _pas_, and the combined
forces set off along the coast to endeavour to raise the siege. Their
march to the Waimakariri River was rapidly executed; but here some
delay was occasioned, owing to the difficulty in getting the people
across the broad and rapid stream. At the cost of much labour, a
_mokihi_ flotilla was constructed, on which they crossed to the
northern bank; and then, fearing that their movements might be
discovered if they approached nearer to the _pa_ before darkness
set in, they lay down to await the fall of evening. Under the cover of
darkness they resumed their march, which was still conducted with the
utmost caution, more especially as they approached the vicinity of the
besieged _pa_. By the glowing watch-fires which they saw in the
distance they knew that the enemy was sleeplessly alert, and that any
impetuosity on their part might easily prove fatal to themselves, and
equally disastrous to their friends watching and waiting their coming.
It had been decided that the attempt to enter the _pa_ should be made
on the western side, where the swamp which fringed the fortress was
narrowest, and where they could be admitted by the Huirapa gate. It is
probable that when Taiaroa came to this determination he was not aware
that he must pass near to a section of the enemy's camp. But here
fortune favoured him, for the high wind which was blowing at the time
drove those of the besiegers who were keeping watch to crouch closely
over their fires, and, by agitating the surrounding foliage, aided
materially in concealing the movements of the warriors as they crept
cautiously through the long and waving grass. By adroitly advancing
when the breeze blew with greatest violence, and throwing themselves
flat upon the ground when it lulled, they drew so near to the
Ngati-Toa lines that they could plainly hear the sentries conversing
amongst themselves. Their position at this juncture was most critical,
and in the intensity of their excitement they scarcely dared to
breathe. Nothing, however, occurred to betray their presence,[113]
and, at a preconcerted signal, every man rose from his concealment,
and shouting, "Taiaroa to the rescue! Taiaroa to the rescue!" plunged
into the dark waters of the swamp and swam towards the _pa_.
It is doubtful whether the surprise of the Ngati-Toa sentries or of
the defenders was the greater, as they were suddenly aroused by the
tumult of the struggling horde which had swept in upon the scene. The
first thought of the defenders was that a clever ruse to gain
admission to the _pa_ was being practised by Te Rauparaha, and they
at once lined the walls, and began a brisk fusilade upon the splashing
forms in the water below. Darkness, uncertainty, and excitement,
however, made their aim extremely erratic, and no damage of any
consequence was done before the voices of the leaders were recognised,
and what had seemed a daring and ingenious assault was discovered to
be the eagerly-looked-for succour. The firing instantly ceased, and
the Huirapa gate was thrown open to the dripping warriors, who, as
they emerged from the water, were received in the warm embraces of
their grateful friends.
With the arrival of Taiaroa and of the Kaiapoi chiefs whom he had
brought with him, a new spirit animated the population of the _pa_,
and its defence was organised upon a more systematic plan than before.
To Whakauira was entrusted the defence of the Kaitangata gate, and
Weka was given a similar responsibility over Hiaka-rere. Other
vulnerable points were similarly entrusted to the personal care of the
best and bravest of the chiefs, who were not only to defend their
particular positions against attack, but were to lead all sorties made
by their own companies. In guarding against surprises, the garrison
were greatly aided by a watch-tower, which stood close to the
Kaitangata gate. This tower was no pillar of masonry, such as a Norman
of old would have attached to his castle, but was merely the tall
trunk of a totara tree, firmly set in the ground, on the top of which
was perched a little wooden hutch, after the form of a native
_whata_.[114] The sides of this cabin were constructed of thick
wooden slabs which had been carefully tested, and demonstrated to be
proof against any bullet fired from the nearest point to which an
enemy could safely come. Before daylight every morning a faithful
watcher crept into this elevated cabin, and, peering through slits cut
in the sides, was able to command a view of all that was passing
within the enemy's camp, and communicate the results of his
observation to those within. In this way the defenders were able to
anticipate and successfully counteract the tactics of Te Rauparaha,
who, much to his chagrin, found all his movements checked. But the
rôle of attack was not confined to the Ngati-Toa; for, in the early
stages of the siege, frequent sorties were made by the defenders,
though, it must be admitted, with but doubtful success. Their fighting
was of a more emotional order than that of the northern men, who were
desperate fellows, and just as willing to submit to punishment as they
were to administer it. Their tenacity of purpose, combined with the
fact that they were led by the most skilful native tactician of his
day, gave them an undoubted superiority in these hand-to-hand
contests; and the Ngai-Tahu defenders derived but little comfort from
their spasmodic efforts to disperse the enemy's camp. One excursion of
this kind, however, was more than usually heroic. Intelligence having
been brought that Te Rauparaha had moved his canoes down the coast
from Double Corner, where they had been left when he first landed, to
the mouth of the Ashley River, Taiaroa, on a dark and stormy night,
took a few men with him, and, swimming and wading through the swamps,
succeeded in reaching the spot where the fleet was lying securely
beached. The purpose of the sortie was to destroy the canoes. But here
was furnished an example of that want of forethought which is to be so
frequently noted in Ngai-Tahu warfare, and which stood in such marked
contrast to the methods of Te Rauparaha. The expedition had armed
itself with only light hatchets, which proved to be quite incapable of
making any material impression upon the heavy hulls of the canoes.
Consequently, Taiaroa and his men had to content themselves with
merely slashing at the lighter timbers and severing the cordage which
lashed the thwarts and side boards, which would, at least, render the
vessels unseaworthy until repaired. Finding it impossible to achieve
their object with the axe, an attempt was made to burn the canoes; but
the blinding rain-storm which was raging at the time rendered futile
every effort in this direction, and the bold little band was compelled
to return to the _pa_, having succeeded in nothing beyond risking
their own lives and imposing a passing inconvenience upon the
besiegers.
Three anxious months had now passed since the siege began, without
anything decisive having been accomplished on either side. Te
Rauparaha had hoped that hunger and the losses they had suffered would
have sapped the strength of the defence; but in this he was mistaken,
for events were proving that the old idea, that the _pa_ could be
starved into submission, was a delusion. As a matter of fact, the
defenders were well supplied with food, their storehouses having been
filled with the fruits of the early crops, while the surrounding
swamps provided them with an abundant supply of eels. On the other
hand, Te Rauparaha was frequently hard pressed for supplies; while, on
the score of losses, he had fared rather worse than the defenders.
Finding that he was making no progress along the orthodox lines of
attack, he now decided to revolutionise his methods. He recalled to
mind the words in the song of the seer Kukurarangi, "Embrace it, get
closer and closer"; and, acting upon this prophetic injunction, he
conceived the idea of sapping[115] up to the walls of the _pa_
and demolishing the palisades by fire. He accordingly ordered three
trenches to be dug, one by the Ngati-Toa, one by the Ngati-Raukawa,
and the third by Ngati-Awa, no doubt relying upon a spirit of friendly
rivalry between the tribes to accelerate the work. At first they
suffered considerably, for the men working in the open trenches
offered a conspicuous mark to the riflemen concealed behind the
outworks of the _pa_. The casualties were, however, sensibly
reduced when Te Rauparaha ingeniously deflected the line of the sap
and carried the trenches forward in a zigzag direction. The spademen
were thus protected by the angle at which they worked, and additional
security was given them by the placing of slabs of wood across the top
of the open sap. These precautions almost entirely neutralised the
efforts of the sharpshooters, and the sap proceeded rapidly, and with
a regularity and precision which excited the admiration of those early
colonists who saw the trenches before their symmetry had been
destroyed.
These proceedings were naturally viewed with considerable alarm by the
garrison, and frequent sorties were resorted to for the purpose of
putting a check upon the progress of the work. These excursions,
whether unskilfully conducted or badly executed, may have hindered the
operations of the sappers, but they certainly failed to compel the
abandonment of the sap. As an answer, the besiegers occasionally
delivered a surprise attack, and it was in repulsing one of these that
Te Ata-o-tu fought with such heroic courage that by his signal bravery
he has helped to redeem the general ineptitude of the defence. The
story of how "Old Jacob" (for as such he was known to the early
Canterbury colonists) slew Pehi Tahau has been worthily told in the
warrior's own words:--
"Towards the close of the siege, after standing sentry at the foot of
the watch-tower all one stormy night, during which heavy showers of
rain had fallen, and being very wet and very sleepy, I was dozing with
my head resting upon my hands, which were supported by the barrel of
my gun, when I was roused by a hand on my shoulder and a voice
whispering in my ear, 'Are you asleep?' I confessed I was, and asked
if anything was the matter. My questioner, who was one of our bravest
leaders, said: 'Yes; the enemy have planned an attack, and I wish a
sortie to be made at once to repel it: will you take command?' I
readily consented on condition that I should choose my own men. He
agreed; and I picked out six of the bravest men I knew, and got them
to the gate without arousing the rest of our people. I told my men to
wait while I and another reconnoitred. We entered the sap and
approached the shed where the attacking party, numbering about two
hundred, were sleeping, awaiting the dawn. They were lying all close
together like herrings in a shoal. I motioned to my men to come on.
Just at that moment one of them who had gone down another trench
called out: 'Let us go back; I have taken spoil--a club, a belt, and a
cartouche box.' The result of this injudicious outcry was very
different from what might have been anticipated. Startled by the sound
of his voice, our sleeping foes sprang to their feet and immediately
bolted panic-struck in the direction of their main camp. The coast was
now quite clear for me, and, emerging from the trench, I proceeded
cautiously in the direction taken by the runaways. I had not gone far
before I noticed the figure of a man a short distance in front of me.
He had nothing on but a small waist-mat, and was armed with a
fowling-piece; and walking beside him was a woman, who, from the way
he kept pushing her forward, seemed unwilling to accompany him.
Happening to look round, he caught sight of me, and immediately cried
out to his fleeing companions: 'Come back! come back and catch this
man; he is all alone!' But as no one did come back in answer to his
appeal, and as I heard no answering call made, I felt confident that I
had nothing to fear at the moment from his comrades, who were not
likely to come to his aid till it was quite light; and that if I could
only close with him, I might overcome him, and have the satisfaction
of carrying his dead body back with me into the _pa_. I determined
therefore to try and force an encounter at close quarters, my only
fear being that he might shoot me before I could grapple with him.
"I had only a tomahawk on a long handle, having left my own gun behind
because the charge in it was wet from the previous night's rain. The
ground we were passing over was covered with large tufts of tussock
grass, and I leapt from one to another to deaden the sound of my
footsteps, squatting down whenever I saw the man turning round to
look at me. I kept following him in this way for several hundred
yards; fortunately he did not keep moving towards Rauparaha's camp,
but in a different direction. By dint of great agility and caution, I
got within a few feet of him, when he turned suddenly round and pushed
the woman between us, and instantly fired. It seemed to me at that
moment as if I were looking down the barrel of his gun. I squatted as
quickly as I could on the ground: fortunately there was a slight
depression of the surface where I stood, and that saved my life. The
flame of the charge set fire to my hair, and the ball grazed my scalp:
for a moment I felt stunned, and thought I was mortally wounded. My
opponent kept shouting for assistance, which never came: for his
panic-stricken companions, I afterwards learnt, were at the very time
up to their necks in water in an adjoining swamp, clinging in their
terror to the nigger-heads for support, their fears having magnified
my little party of followers into an army. The shouts of my opponent
recalled me to my senses, and, recovering from the shock I had
received, I made a second attempt to grapple with him, but without
success: as before, he slipped behind the woman again, and aimed his
gun at me; I stooped and the bullet flew over my shoulder. We were now
on equal terms, and I had no longer to exercise such excessive caution
in attacking him. I struck at him with my hatchet; he tried to parry
the blow with the butt-end of his gun, but failed, and I buried my
weapon in his neck near the collar-bone. He fell forward at once, and
I seized him by the legs and lifted him on to my shoulder, intending
to carry him out of the reach of rescue by his own people. It was now
quite light enough to see what was going on, and I could not expect to
escape much longer the notice of the sentries guarding Rauparaha's
camp. Just then one of my companions, who had mustered sufficient
courage to follow me, came up to where I was, and, seeing signs of
life in the body I was carrying, ran it through with his spear; and at
the same time drew my attention to the movements of a party of the
enemy, who were evidently trying to intercept our return to the _pa_.
Hampered by the weight of my prize, I could not get over the ground as
quickly as our pursuers, but I was loath to lose the opportunity of
presenting to my superior officers such unmistakable evidence of my
prowess as a warrior, and I struggled on with my burden till I saw it
was hopeless to think of reaching the _pa_ with it, when I threw it on
the ground, contenting myself with the waist-belt, gun, and ear
ornaments of my conquered foe, and made the best of my way into the
fortress, where I was received with shouts of welcome from the people,
and very complimentary acknowledgments of my courage from my
commanders. I owed my life at the fall of Kaiapoi to that morning's
encounter. For, when I was lying bound hand and foot along with a
crowd of other prisoners after the capture of the _pa_, Rauparaha
strolled amongst us inquiring whether the man who killed the chief
Pehi Tahau was amongst our number. On my being pointed out to him as
the person he was in search of, instead of handing me over, as I fully
expected he was going to do, to the relatives of my late foe, to be
tortured and put to death by them, he addressed me in most
complimentary terms, saying I was too brave a man to be put to death
in the general massacre which was taking place, that I had fought
fairly and won the victory, and that he meant to spare my life, and
hoped that I would, in time to come, render him as a return for his
clemency some good service on the battlefields of the North Island."
At the end of the fourth month the trenches had, by dint of incessant
labour, and in the face of repeated attacks, been brought to within a
few feet of the wall, and then Te Rauparaha was in a position to
develop the second phase of his scheme--the burning of the hitherto
impregnable palisades. For many weeks his people were employed in
cutting down and binding into bundles the _manuka_ scrub which
grew in abundance on the flats in the immediate vicinity of his camp,
and when these bundles had been dried in the sun, they were carried
into the trenches and passed along to the further end, where a
stalwart warrior seized and threw them with all his power in the
direction of the doomed _pa_. This was a work which cost Ngati-Toa
dearly, for there was an interval of time, in the act of hurling the
sheaf of _manuka_ forward, during which the body of the thrower was
exposed to the galling fire of the defenders; and they placed their
best marksmen in a position from which they were able to take unerring
aim at the unprotected figure in the trench. Many a brave fellow who
had passed safely through the stress of siege and sortie met his fate
in that twinkling of an eye. But, notwithstanding the peril of the
post, there was no lack of volunteers to accept its awful
responsibility, and as soon as one martyr to duty went down with a
bullet in his brain, another sprang forward to fill his place. So the
work of piling up the combustible material went on with scarcely an
interruption. At first, the defenders made bold to emerge from the
gates of the _pa_ at night, and hurriedly scattered the piles of
brushwood which had been accumulated during the day. But this was only
a temporary respite, and no permanent obstruction to the policy of Te
Rauparaha. Day by day the process went on of hurling the bundles of
_manuka_ from the trenches, until at last the quantity to be moved
became so great that the defenders, in their brief rushes, were unable
to disperse it. Then it began to mount higher against the palisades,
and every night saw the position becoming more and more critical, with
scarcely any resistance on the part of the besieged.[116] Indeed, the
semblance of a panic was now beginning to make its appearance within
the _pa_, and the opinion was rapidly taking root that their
relentless enemy was slowly gathering them within his toils. A feeling
of deepest depression fell upon the populace, and proposals were even
secretly discussed by some of the younger men to abandon the _pa_
before the inevitable catastrophe plunged them in disaster. Taiaroa
actually adopted this course. Taking his Otago contingent with him, he
left the _pa_ under cover of night, and made good his escape through
the gloomy swamps. To some this might appear an act of base desertion;
but it is the duty of the historian to rescue the name of so brave a
chief from so dark an imputation. The secret motive which impelled him
to leave Kaiapoi at this juncture was his settled conviction that some
diversion must be created, during which the inhabitants would have a
reasonable prospect of clearing the walls of the dangerous pile of
_manuka_. His intention was, therefore, to proceed southward to his
own dominion, where he hoped to raise a large force, and return to
meet Te Rauparaha in a decisive battle on the open field. Events,
however, moved too rapidly for him. Before he was able to give effect
to his plan, Kaiapoi had fallen, and nothing remained to him but to
shelter its unhappy fugitives.
With the departure of Taiaroa for the south, the people seemed to feel
themselves deprived of the moving spirit of the defence, and, instead
of redoubling their energies, they sullenly yielded to the pessimistic
impulses of their mercurial nature, and abandoned themselves to
brooding and despair.[117] Te Rauparaha, now finding his tactics less
seriously opposed, made strenuous efforts to ensure the perfection of
his plans; and, having done all that remained to be done, he resigned
himself to wait with such patience as he could command for a
favourable wind to carry the fire from his flaming bundles against the
walls of the _pa_. And now a curious contest arose between the
_tohungas_ of the opposing tribes; for, while the priests of Ngati-Toa
were daily repeating incantations for the purpose of inducing a
southerly wind, the priests of Ngai-Tahu were as piously imploring the
gods for a wind from the north. The impartiality of the deities in
these circumstances was remarkable, and distinctly embarrassing; but
it is nevertheless a fact well remembered in connection with the fall
of Kaiapoi, that while the conflicting prayers filled the air, an
atmospheric calm set in, and for several weeks no breeze of any
violence blew from either direction. But it was not to be supposed
that this condition of aerial negation would continue for ever. At
length, on a day some six months after the siege had been commenced,
the dawn came in with a nor'-west wind blowing strongly across the
plains. To the besiegers, this appeared to be all in favour of the
besieged. But those within the _pa_ knew from long observation that
the nor'-wester was an exceedingly treacherous wind; that sudden
changes were apt to be experienced when the wind was in that quarter;
and that, regarded in the light of experience, their situation was by
no means as rosy as it looked. That their fate was hanging by the most
slender thread was a fact perfectly apparent to the chiefs in command,
who, after consultation, came to the conclusion that their only hope
of safety lay in the bare chance that, if the menacing brushwood,
which lay piled against the wall, was fired from the inside, the wind
might hold out long enough to carry the flames away from the _pa_
until the source of danger was removed. This view was strongly held by
Pureko, who was now entrusted with the defence of the threatened
portion of the _pa_; and he decided to take upon himself the
responsibility of proving the accuracy of his theory. Accordingly, he
seized a firebrand, and thrust it into a pile of _manuka_, which
instantly became a seething mass of flame.
When Te Rauparaha saw that his enemy was likely to circumvent him, he
at once ordered his men to belt up, take their weapons with them, and
carry the burning brushwood against the palisades, so that the fuel
which had been collected at such infinite pains might not be consumed
in vain. Without staying to question the wisdom of this order, a rush
was immediately made by the younger warriors to obey the command; but
they were met by a fusilade from the defenders who lined the walls,
which worked havoc amongst their ranks. Had the contending parties
been left to fight the issue out untrammelled by the intervention of
external agencies, it is more than probable that Te Rauparaha would
have been worsted in this attempt to fire the _pa_, and would have
been compelled either to abandon the siege till the ensuing summer or
to repeat during the impending winter the toilsome process of laying
his fire train to the gates of the fortress. But at this juncture, as
in so many others of his eventful life, his characteristic good
fortune did not desert him. While his men were being mown down under
the galling musketry of the enemy, the wind suddenly swung round to
the south, and the whole aspect of the combat was instantly changed.
The flames were carried high against the walls, licking the palisades
with fiery tongues, while dense clouds of smoke rolled backwards,
driving the garrison from the trenches and from every station of
defence.
By this marvellous reversal of fortune Te Rauparaha was not slow to
profit; and no sooner had the firing of the defenders slackened than
his men crept up to the walls, and, as an essential precaution, filled
up the loopholes through which the Ngai-Tahu marksmen had taken aim.
This must have seriously hampered the defenders, had they been
disposed to stand to their posts. But they were no longer animated so
much by the desire to save the _pa_ as to save themselves. Panic
had now taken the place of heroism, and despair had completely
extinguished all idea of defence. The _sauve qui peut_ of
Napoleon became equally the policy of Ngai-Tahu, and from this point
there was nothing heroic in the defence of Kaiapoi. In a marvellously
short space of time, the flames had completely enveloped the outer
works; and, while they were eating their way through the wooden
walls, many of the besiegers were indulging in the wild joy of the war
dance, which, according to one native chronicler, was so vigorously
conducted that "the noise they made was like thunder, and the earth
trembled." As soon as a breach had been made, the attacking force
rushed between the burning palisades, and the massacre--for it can be
described by no other word--commenced.
"Through the fire, and through the smoke,
Swiftly Ngati-Toa broke
With a scream and a yell;
And the glare and the flare
Of the fire-tongues in the air
Flung a demoniac light
On the horrors of the fight:
And the children in affright,
And the women in despair,
Shrieked for mercy, but in vain.
And the blazing timbers threw
A ghastly lurid hue
On the wounded and the slain.
And, as the fierce light gleamed
On the warriors, they seemed
Like fiends unloosed from hell.
A struggle, fierce and short,
And the keepers of the fort
Were slaughtered for the feast:
And the red sun in the west
Went down as Kaiapoi fell."
No semblance of resistance was offered except by a desperate few, and
those who still lingered were either struck down by their infuriated
pursuers, or were captured and bound, to be spared or killed, as
future circumstances might dictate. When the stampede commenced, the
Huirapa gate was made the first avenue of escape, as it led directly
into the surrounding swamp. But Te Rauparaha had provided against this
by posting a strong body of men on the opposite bank; and, as fast as
the fugitives landed, they fell into a snare as fatal as that from
which they had just escaped. Numbers of the more active, impatient at
the delay caused by the total inadequacy of this single outlet,
scaled the walls, and dropped down into the swamp below, swimming or
wading in the direction of the plains to the westward. Those who
selected this mode of retreat were almost all successful in making
good their escape, for they were able to secure the friendly shelter
of those dense clusters of vegetation[118] which freely studded the
face of the swamp; while the black smoke-clouds, which were carried on
the wind, hung low upon the water, and effectually screened them from
the searching eyes of their pursuers.
It is estimated that some two hundred of the fleeing garrison reached
safety by concealing themselves in the slimy waters and rank
vegetation of the Tairutu lagoon, until the vigilance of the
northerners had relaxed sufficiently to enable them to creep out and
slip away to the southward, or to Banks's Peninsula, where they could
rely upon finding shelter in some of the tribal _pas_.[119] But
by far the greater part of the inhabitants, who could not have
numbered less than a thousand souls, met death in various ways. Many,
especially the women and children, who essayed to cross the swamps,
were either drowned in the attempt or shot down as they swam. Others,
who, owing to age and infirmity, were slow in eluding the attack, were
never able to leave the _pa_ at all. The aged and the very young
were killed without ceremony; but the more comely were for the most
part overcome and bound, destined either for the feast or for a life
of slavery, adorning the household of a chief or working as menials
in the fields. Pureko, who had put the brand to the burning, was one
of the first to fall, being disembowelled by a gun-shot; and within a
few moments there was also witnessed the pathetic death of the
patriarchal Te Auta,[120] the venerated priest of the tribe, who was
slain as he knelt at the shrine of his patron deity, vainly imploring
the assistance of Kahukura[121] in this their hour of greatest need.
The air was rent by the shrieks of the dying, the shouts of the
victors, and the crash of falling timbers, mingled in one hideous din,
which typified all that is blackest and most brutal in human
passion.[122] When an end was made of this gruesome work, and the
smoking walls were ruined beyond repair, the captives were removed to
Te Rauparaha's camp, situated on the spot now known as Massacre Hill;
and there the full rites of the cannibal feast were celebrated at an
awful cost of human life,[123] every detail being observed which, in
the light of national custom, would ensure the eternal humiliation of
the defeated tribe.
Kaiapoi having now fallen, and the dispersal of its people being
complete, Te Rauparaha might have reasonably retired from the scene,
satisfied with the laurels which his conquest had brought him. But it
would seem that lust of victory and greed of revenge were in him
insatiable. He knew that there were still some well-populated
_pas_ on Banks's Peninsula, and he was determined not to return
to Kapiti until he had reduced them also. The canoes which had been
damaged by Taiaroa were, therefore, repaired with all possible speed,
and, after provision had been made for the prisoners who were to be
taken to Kapiti, the remaining canoes were directed to proceed to
Banks's Peninsula. A small _pa_ on Ri-papa Island, in Lyttelton
Harbour, was first attacked and reduced, and then the canoes were
steered for Akaroa, from which point the war party was to move to the
assault of Onawe. This _pa_ had been but recently constructed,
and owed its existence to the widespread dread which the name of Te
Rauparaha had now inspired. When it was known on the peninsula that
he had laid siege to Kaiapoi, a feeling of insecurity crept over the
natives there, who were seized with a grave presentiment that their
turn might come soon. And how inadequate were their small and isolated
_pas_ to withstand the shock of assault or the stress of siege! They
accordingly hastened to concentrate their forces in one central _pa_,
and the spirit-haunted hill of Onawe[124] was the point selected for a
united stand. The _pa_, which was built upon the pear-shaped
promontory which juts out into the Akaroa Harbour, dividing its upper
portion into two bays, was both extensive and strong, and into its
construction several new features were imported, to meet the altered
conditions of warfare caused by the introduction of fire-arms.
With the fall of Kaiapoi, the alarms and panics to which the people of
the peninsula had been subjected through Te Rauparaha's foraging
parties were brought to an end, and they then knew that their worst
fears were about to be realised. On the day after the sack of the
_pa_, a few of the fugitives had arrived at Onawe with the
doleful intelligence that the fortress had fallen, and that, so far as
they could gather, the northern canoes were at that very moment being
made sea-worthy, for the purpose of conveying the victors to Akaroa.
Hurried messengers were then sent to all the outlying _pas_,
calling the people in to Onawe, and preparations were at once made to
resist the impending attack. Tangatahara, who, it will be remembered,
had been the immediate cause of Te Pehi's death, was placed in chief
command, with Puka and Potahi as his subordinate chiefs. The garrison,
which consisted of about four hundred warriors, was reasonably well
equipped for the struggle, for they had been moderately successful in
securing fire-arms from the whalers, and those who did not carry
muskets were at least able to flourish steel hatchets. In these
circumstances, Te Rauparaha found them a much more formidable foe than
had been the Muaupoko of Horowhenua, or the Ngati-Apa of Rangitikei.
There he had all the advantage of arms; here he was being opposed on
almost even terms; but there still remained in his favour a balance of
spirit, courage, and tenacity of purpose. In the matter of provisions
the _pa_ was well provided against a protracted siege, while one of
the features of the new fortification was a covered way, which led to
a never-failing spring on the southern side of the promontory.
Scarcely were the people gathered within the _pa_, and all the
preparations for its defence completed, than the sentinels posted on
the lookout descried, in the early morning, the northern fleet
sweeping up the harbour. The alarm was at once given, and every man
sprang to his post to await the oncoming. The canoes paddled to the
shore below the _pa_, and there Te Rauparaha committed an error in
tactics, the like of which can seldom be laid to his charge. He had
hoped that, by his early arrival, he would have been able to take the
garrison by surprise and effect an easy victory; but in this the
vigilance of the defenders had frustrated him, and he therefore
decided to delay the attack. In the meantime, he permitted his men to
land, but unwisely allowed them to become separated. The Ngati-Toa and
Ngati-Raukawa went to what is now known as Barry's Bay, and Ngati-Awa
occupied the beach at the head of the harbour. In these positions
respectively the sections of the invaders immediately began to
establish their camps, and numerous fires, eloquent of the morning
meal, were soon smoking on the shore.
Tangatahara saw with some satisfaction the disposition of the enemy,
and shrewdly determined to profit by the advantage which their want of
cohesion gave him. He resolved upon the manoeuvre of first attacking
Ngati-Awa, in the hope that he might defeat them before Te Rauparaha
could come to their assistance, and then he would be able to turn
upon the unsupported Ngati-Toa and drive them back to the sea. But
either Tangatahara was much mistaken in his calculations or his
directions were only indifferently executed, for his manoeuvre failed
ignominiously. As his men sallied out of the _pa_, their movements
were noticed by the sentries of Te Rauparaha, who lost no time in
communicating the fact to their leader. Instantly, the Ngati-Toa camp
was in a state of intense excitement; every warrior dropped his
immediate employment and rushed to secure his belt and arms. When
equipped, they went off in hot haste, floundering through slime and
soft mud, to reinforce the threatened Ngati-Awa. Tangatahara, seeing
that his movement was observed and understood, hesitated and was lost.
A halt was called, and, while his men stood in indecision upon the
hill-side, the advancing Ngati-Toa opened fire upon them with fatal
effect. Tahatiti was the first to fall, and several were wounded as
the result of the opening volley. The Ngai-Tahu then began to fall
back, firing the while; but their musketry failed to check the onrush
of Te Rauparaha's veterans, who were now thoroughly seasoned to the
rattle of bullets and the smell of powder. The retreat to the _pa_ was
safely conducted; but, for some reason, the defenders did not
immediately pass through the gates and shut them against the invaders.
They continued to linger outside, possibly to watch with greater ease
the approach of the enemy. As they were thus engaged, a number of the
captives taken by Te Rauparaha at Kaiapoi suddenly came over the brow
of the hill and entered into conversation with those of their own kin
who were still outside the gates. During this friendly parley, Te
Rauparaha came boldly up to the walls with his own followers and
demanded the surrender of the _pa_. Those within the walls were now
placed in the dilemma that they could not fire upon the enemy without
imperilling the lives of their own friends; and it was equally unsafe
to open the gates to admit them, as the besiegers might rush in with
an impetuosity that could not be resisted. In these circumstances the
parley was continued, Te Rauparaha pointing to the presence of so many
Kaiapoi notables as a living evidence of his clemency, while the
captive Ngai-Tahu joined with him in advising the policy of surrender,
chiefly, no doubt, through a jealous apprehension that the inhabitants
of Onawe might escape the misfortune and disgrace which had befallen
themselves.
Thus the battle, which had opened with visions of courage, degenerated
into a war of words, of which the best that can be said is that the
insincerity of the invaders was only equalled by the indecision of the
defenders. Only one man in the _pa_ appeared to have a clear idea
of what his duty was. This was Puaka, who, recognising Te Rauparaha
amongst the crowd, pushed his gun through a loophole, took aim, and
fired almost point-blank at the chief, whose miraculous escape was due
to the fact that one of the Kaiapoi captives, who was standing close
to Puaka, pushed the muzzle of the musket aside just in time to
deflect the shot. As might be supposed, the incident served only to
intensify the confusion and disorder. Some of the invaders seized a
moment's want of vigilance on the part of the sentries at the gate to
force an entrance into the _pa_, where they commenced killing
every one around them. All the brave vows which had brought the Onawe
_pa_ into existence were then forgotten, and the high hopes which
its fancied strength had inspired were shattered in this moment of
supreme trial, which revealed in all its nakedness the inherent
weakness of the Ngai-Tahu character. Panic seized the people, and for
some time the _pa_ was the scene of the wildest confusion. Here
and there a brave show of resistance was offered; but for the most
part the defenders were too dazed at the swiftness of the Ngati-Toa
rush even to stand to their arms, which, in their distraction, numbers
of them even threw away. Of those outside the _pa_, not a few
dashed for the bush as soon as the fighting commenced, and made good
their escape. But those within the walls were caught like rats in a
trap; and, during the conflict, the shrieks and imprecations of the
miserable fugitives were mingled with the hoarse shouts of the
victors, as they rushed bleeding and half naked from one place of
fancied security to another. The conquest of Onawe, though swift, was
none the less sanguinary. After the last vestige of resistance had
been stamped out, the prisoners were collected and taken down to a
flax-covered flat. There the old and the young, the weak and the
strong, were picked out from their trembling ranks; and, at the
command of the chief, those who from excessive youth or extreme age
were regarded as valueless were at once sacrificed to the _manes_ of
the dead, while the more robust were preserved as trophies of the
victory.
For a few days following the fall of Onawe, the surrounding hills and
forests were scoured by the restless victors, in search of such
unhappy fugitives as might be found lurking in the secret places of
the bush. Few, however, were captured, and in some instances
successful retaliation reversed the fortune of the chase, and the
pursuers became the pursued. When the prospect of further captures was
exhausted, the northern warriors asked for and obtained leave to
return to their homes, and the canoes, with the exception of that of
Te Hiko, immediately put to sea, a rendezvous being appointed for them
at Cloudy Bay. Te Hiko was detained by the fact that his canoe stood
in need of repair, and, during the operation, an incident occurred
which justified the high estimate of his character which was
subsequently formed by many of the earliest colonists.[125] He was the
son of Te Pehi, whose death two years before was the immediate and
avowed cause of this southern raid. If, then, the fires of hate and
fury against Ngai-Tahu had burned more fiercely within him than in
others of his tribe, there might have been some justification for it.
But Te Hiko proved to be more chivalrous than many who had received
less provocation. Amongst the prisoners who had fallen into his hands
at the taking of Onawe was Tangatahara, the commander of the fortress,
who, it will be remembered, had been the most active agent in causing
the death of Te Hiko's father. What ultimate fate was intended for
Tangatahara is uncertain, but he was fortunate enough to be spared an
immediate death. He was, however, closely guarded; and, as he was
sitting on the beach surrounded by Ngati-Raukawa warriors, two of the
women who had accompanied Te Rauparaha's forces espied him, and
immediately put in a claim to Te Hiko for his death, in compensation
for the injury which the captive chief had caused them. The claim,
though clamorously made, was firmly resisted by Te Hiko who
endeavoured first to persuade and then to bribe them, by a gift of
rich food, into a more reasonable frame of mind. Neither his
blandishments nor his bribes were successful in appeasing their desire
for the captive's life; and it was not until Te Hiko gave them plainly
to understand that he was determined not to give his prisoner over as
a sacrifice to them, and that he regarded his authority as outraged by
their persistency, that they sullenly consented to compromise their
claim. What they now asked was the right to debase the chief by using
his head as a relish for their _kauru_, a vegetable substance which a
Maori chewed, much as an American chews gum or tobacco. To this
modified proposal Te Hiko reluctantly consented, and the women,
approaching the captive, struck his head twice with their _kauru_,
which they proceeded to masticate with enhanced enjoyment because of
the flavour which it was thought to derive from his degradation.
Though he had thus far humoured the women, the want of consideration
shown by them for his position as a chief so incensed Te Hiko that he
there and then determined to release his prisoner, and so prevent his
authority in regard to him being flouted by irresponsible personages.
That night he roused Tangatahara from his sleep, and, taking him to
the edge of the bush, bade him escape, a command which he was not slow
to obey, nor found it difficult to fulfil.[126]
[76] To the ancient Maori greenstone was invaluable as a material out
of which to manufacture weapons and ornaments; but after the
introduction of fire-arms the _mere_ was superseded by the
musket, and it is doubtful if, when the trinkets of the European were
available, the native would take the trouble to laboriously work out
an ornament from so hard a substance.
[77] A shark's tooth fixed upon a stick and used as a knife.
[78] This could scarcely have been otherwise, for Rerewaka's insolent
speech amounted to a _kanga_, or curse, which, according to the
Maori code, could only be atoned for by the shedding of blood.
[79] The canoe used by Te Rauparaha on many of these southern raids
was called Ahu-a-Turanga, and for this reason it is supposed that it
came from the Manawatu, that being the name of an ancient track over
the Ruahine Ranges near the Manawatu gorge. It is said that this canoe
is now lying rotting at Porirua Harbour. Another famous canoe of this
period was called Te-Ra-makiri, a vessel captured from the
Ngati-Kahu-ngunu at Castle Point by Ngati-Tama, and presented by them
to Te Rauparaha. This canoe was held to be exceedingly sacred, and now
lies at Mana Island.
[80] "Having reached at sunset to within a mile of the spot where the
_Pelorus_ anchored, we again encamped on a shingly beach in a bay
on the east side of the Sound. At this spot there were some ten or
fifteen acres of level ground, on which we were shown the remains of a
large _pa_, once the headquarters of the tribe conquered and
almost exterminated by Te Rauparaha" (_Wakefield_).
[81] It was to this policy of settlement, following upon conquest,
that Marlborough owes the presence of the little cluster of northern
natives who are settled on the banks of the Wairau River--the most
southern outpost that now remains to mark the aggression of Te
Rauparaha.
[82] Hori Kingi Te Anaua, a chief well-known in after years as the
firm friend of the Whanganui settlers, escaped from this defeat, as
one quaint native account puts it, "by dint of his power to run."
[83] Some difficulty has been experienced in closely tracing the
movements of Te Pehi. He left England on board H.M.S. _Thames_ in
October, 1825, and the _Thames_ reached Sydney on April 11, 1826.
Whether she came on to New Zealand bringing the chief with her, I have
not ascertained. The probabilities are that she did, for the late
Judge Mackay, who is an excellent authority, says Te Pehi returned
direct to New Zealand, but afterwards made the voyage back to Sydney
to procure arms, from which place he returned in 1829, at the juncture
referred to in the text.
[84] Here we meet with one of the many discrepancies in the published
histories of the time. The Rev. Canon Stack makes it appear in his
_Kaiapohia_ that Rerewaka was killed during the battle, but Mr.
Travers (_Life and Times of Te Rauparaha_) states that he was
taken prisoner; and this version is sustained by Tamihana te Rauparaha
in his published account of his father's life, wherein he says
Rerewaka was taken to Kapiti to be "tamed."
[85] Canon Stack would seem to imply that Kaikoura and Omihi were one
and the same place; but from a petition presented to the House of
Representatives in 1869 by the Ngai-Tahu tribe, it seems clear that
they were separate places, and that their destruction took place at
different times. Omihi is about 15 miles south of Kaikoura, near the
Conway River, but the battle took place on the hills near the valley
which leads down to the Waipara.
[86] Some accounts make it appear that Kekerengu was killed by a
wandering band of Ngai-Tahu after he landed on the Middle Island, and
that, although he had greatly offended Te Rangihaeata by his
impropriety, it was really to avenge his death and not to punish him
that this raid was made upon Kaikoura and Omihi. But these are
variations in tradition that we can scarcely hope to reconcile at this
date.
[87] Kaiapoi is a popular abbreviation of the old name--Kaiapohia,
which signifies "food gathered up in handfuls" or "a food depôt," but
Kaiapohia was seldom used except in formal speeches or in poetical
compositions. The name originated in the incident related in the text,
and the place became in reality a food depôt, because, owing to its
peculiar situation, large quantities of food, particularly kumaras,
were raised every year, not only for local consumption, but for the
purposes of exchange with other branches of the tribe which possessed
abundance of particular kinds of provisions which could not be
procured at Kaiapoi.
[88] Tamihana te Rauparaha would lead us to suppose that his father
was averse to this course, and was again overpersuaded by Te Pehi's
impetuosity. He makes him say to Te Pehi, "Be cautious in going into
the _pa_, lest you be killed. I have had an evil omen: mine was
an evil dream last night," But what, says Tamihana, was the good of
such advice to a man whose spirit had gone to death?
[89] At first only the heads of chiefs were sold, as they were the
most perfectly tattooed, but when chiefs' heads became scarce, the
native mind conceived the idea of tattooing the heads of the slaves
and selling them--the slave being killed as soon as his head was ready
for the market. Sometimes the slave was audacious enough to run away
just as he was attaining a commercial value, and the indignation of
one merchant who had just sustained such a loss is humorously
described in Manning's _Old New Zealand_.
[90] In an account of this incident given by a Captain Briggs to the
newspaper _Tasmanian_, in 1831, he states that a European named
Smith, who had been left at Kaiapoi by a Captain Wiseman, for the
purpose of trade, attempted to save Te Pehi's life, and was himself
killed for his interference. If this was so, the Ngai-Tahu accounts
are discreetly silent on the point; but Briggs infers that Te
Rauparaha and Te Hiko made it one of the arguments by which they
sought to convince him that he ought to assist them to capture
Tamaiharanui, and so revenge the death of his countryman.
[91] The names of the chiefs who were killed on this fatal day were Te
Pehi, Te Pokaitara, Te Rangikatuta, Te Ruatahi, Te Hua-piko, Te Kohi,
Te Aratangata, and Te Rohua. Tamihana te Rauparaha states that in all
some twenty of his father's people were killed, but that a number were
successful in escaping by clambering over the palisades.
[92] The Rev. Canon Stack considers that this event occurred either
late in 1828 or early in 1829.
[93] It is doubtful whether Tamaiharanui took any part in the killing
of Te Pehi and his comrades, but that would not relieve him of his
liability to be killed in return, as the whole tribe was responsible
for the acts of every member of it.
[94] There was little in Tamaiharanui's personal appearance to mark
his aristocratic lineage. His figure was short and thick-set, his
complexion dark, and his features rather forbidding. Unlike most Maori
chiefs of exalted rank, he was cowardly, cruel, and capricious--an
object of dread to friends and foes alike, and however much his people
may have mourned the manner of his death, they could not fail to
experience a sense of relief when he was gone (_Stack_).
[95] The _Elizabeth_ arrived in Sydney in July, 1830, and in the
following month left for New Zealand. A contemporary Australian
newspaper described her cargo as consisting of four cases and eighteen
muskets, two kegs of flints and bullets, two bales of slops, two kegs
of gunpowder, one bundle of hardware, and five baskets of tobacco and
stores.
[96] A more or less exaggerated account of this raid appeared in the
newspaper _Tasmanian_ on January 28, 1831, and in a subsequent
issue, Captain Briggs, in passing some comments upon it, said the
penalty which Captain Stewart had to pay for disregarding his advice
was that "the natives wanted to do as they pleased with him and his
ship." He further said that he endeavoured to persuade Stewart not to
deliver Tamaiharanui over to Te Rauparaha after their return to
Kapiti, but that worthy declined to carry the chief to Sydney, on the
ground that "The Marinewie," as he called him, "had been too long on
board already."
[97] Properly spelt Akau-roa--"the long coast line"; doubtless
referring to the deep inlet which forms the harbour of Akaroa.
[98] According to a Parliamentary Paper published in 1831, the
_Elizabeth_ carried eight guns, two swivels, and a full supply of
small arms. This fact, it is said, deluded some of the natives into
the belief that the ship was a British man-o'-war.
[99] Signifying "tear-drops."
[100] Some accounts say that this occurred before the vessel left the
harbour.
[101] It is said that the action of Tamaiharanui also so roused the
righteous anger of Captain Stewart that he deemed it his duty to have
the chief triced up to the mast and flogged. This met with the most
marked disapproval from Te Rauparaha, who maintained that as his
prisoner was a chief he should not be punished like a slave.
[102] The _Australian_ newspaper records the arrival of the
_Elizabeth_, Captain Stewart, in Sydney, on the above date, with
a cargo of thirty tons of flax, and carrying Mr. J. B. Montefiore and
Mr. A. Kemiss as passengers.
[103] When the _Elizabeth_ returned to Kapiti, her company was
increased by a Mr. Montefiore, who was then cruising round New Zealand
in his own vessel, in search of commercial speculations. Hearing of
what had occurred at Akaroa, he became apprehensive of his own safety,
and fearing that all the white people in the country would be killed,
he joined the _Elizabeth_ in the hope of being carried away from
New Zealand at the earliest possible moment. In giving evidence before
a Select Committee of the House of Lords, in 1838, he related what he
knew of the capture and death of Tamaiharanui. He claimed credit for
having protested to Captain Stewart against the chief being held in
irons, and succeeded in getting the fetters struck off, as the
prisoner's legs had commenced to mortify. He also stated that his
appeal to Captain Stewart to take the chief to Sydney, and not to hand
him over to his enemies, was futile. According to Mr. Montefiore, who
said he went ashore and "saw the whole process of his intended
sacrifice," Tamaiharanui was killed almost immediately after being
given up, but other accounts supplied by the natives place it some
weeks later. The wife of Tamaiharanui, unable to bear the sight of her
husband's agony, ran away from the scene of the tragedy, but was
recaptured and subsequently killed. Tamaiharanui's sister became the
wife of one of her captors, and lived at Wellington. It is generally
admitted that Te Rauparaha did not witness, or take any part in,
Tamaiharanui's death. Heaven knows, he had done enough.
[104] If this is an accurate statement of what occurred--and there is
every reason to believe that it is--the treatment of Tamaiharanui
presents an interesting parallel to the manner in which the Aztec
Indians of Mexico regaled their prisoners, destined to be sacrificed
at the annual feast to their god Tezcatlipoca.
[105] Rev. Canon Stack.
[106] The Sydney _Gazette_, in referring to the case, remarked
that its peculiarity lay in the fact that it involved "the question of
the liability of British subjects for offences committed against the
natives of New Zealand." The point was never tested, but it is
doubtful whether the Imperial Statute constituting the Supreme Court
of the Colony of New South Wales (9 Geo. IV., cap. 83) gave express
power to deal with such offences as that of Stewart. An amendment of
the law in the following year (June 7, 1832) made the position more
explicit.
[107] Captain Sturt afterwards did valuable work as an explorer in
Australia, but received no suitable recognition from the Imperial
Government. Sir George Grey vainly endeavoured to procure for him the
honour of knighthood.
[108] There is not much doubt that, had the case gone to trial,
counsel for the defence would have endeavoured to prove that Stewart
was compelled by the natives to do what he did; for the
_Australian_, a paper controlled by Dr. Wardell, argued that it
"could not divine the justice of denouncing Stewart as amenable to
laws which, however strict and necessary under certain circumstances,
were not applicable to savage broils and unintentional acts of
homicide, to which he must have been an unwilling party, and over
which he could not possibly exercise the slightest control."
[109] It will be charitable, and perhaps just, to suppose that this
feeling arose more from personal antipathy to the Governor than from
any inherent sympathy with crime. Governor Darling had succeeded in
making himself exceedingly unpopular with a large section of the
Sydney community, which resulted in his recall in 1831.
[110] The expedition probably started about the end of January or
beginning of February.
[111] Now Lyttelton Harbour.
[112] His _pa_ was in the vicinity of what is now the city of
Dunedin.
[113] The Rev. Canon Stack relates how one of the Ngai-Tahu men, Te
Ata-o-tu, was carrying his infant son on his back during this march.
When they approached the _pa_, some of his companions, seeing how
closely it was invested, whispered to him to strangle the child, lest
it might cry at a critical moment and betray them. The father,
however, could not find it in his heart to take this extreme step, but
he wrapped the boy tightly in a thick mat, and, strapping him across
his broad shoulders, carried him safely through the dangers of that
terrible night. The child, however, was only spared to be drowned in
the waters of the swamp as his mother vainly endeavoured to escape a
few months later, when the _pa_ fell.
[114] A storehouse erected upon a high central pole, to
protect the food from the depredations of rats.
[115] So far as is known, this was the first occasion on which the
principle of the sap was applied in Maori warfare.
[116] An interesting parallel to these proceedings is to be found in
Gibbon's description of the siege of Constantinople: "To fill the
ditch was the toil of the besiegers; to clear away the rubbish was the
safety of the besieged; and, after a long and bloody conflict, the web
which had been woven in the day was still unravelled in the night."
[117] It is a popular belief in some quarters that the reason why the
defenders so lost heart was that they were oppressed by the guilty
knowledge that they had acted treacherously in killing Te Pehi and his
companions.
[118] Popularly known as "Maori-heads" or "Nigger-heads." Flax and
_raupo_ also grew freely in the swamps.
[119] This was rendered more difficult owing to the fact that for many
days Te Rauparaha's followers were scouring the country, far and wide,
in search of fugitives. The Rev. Canon Stack mentions the pathetic
instance of two young children who were in hiding with their father.
He left them to go in search of food, promising to return; but he
never did so, having in all probability been captured and killed. The
children, who afterwards lived to be well-known Canterbury residents,
sustained themselves by eating _raupo_ roots for several months,
until they were found by an eeling party in the bed of the Selwyn
River.
[120] Te Auta is described as a man of grave and venerable appearance,
who was a strict disciplinarian in all matters pertaining to the
religious ceremonies of the _pa_, his authority in these respects
being considerably enhanced by his long white hair and flowing beard.
He was one of the last of the Ngai-Tahu _tohungas_, who were
deeply versed in all the peculiar rites of Maori heathendom.
[121] Kahukura was the patron divinity of the Ngai-Tahu tribe. His
cultus was introduced by the crew of the Takitimu canoe, who were the
ancestors of the Kaiapohians (_Stack_).
[122] Amongst the prisoners taken was a boy named Pura, who excited
the interest of Te Rauparaha. The chief took him under his personal
protection, and on the night that Kaiapoi fell, he led him into his
own _whare_. In order to prevent any possibility of escape,
Rauparaha tied a rope round the boy's body and attached the other end
to his own wrist. During the early hours of the night the chief was
exceedingly restless, but after he fell asleep Pura quietly disengaged
himself from the rope, and tied the end of it to a peg which he found
driven into the floor of the _whare_. He then crept stealthily to
the door, but in passing out he had the misfortune to overturn a pile
of _manuka_ which was piled up outside. Luckily, the brushwood
fell on top of him, completely covering him, but the noise aroused Te
Rauparaha, who, as soon as he perceived that his captive had flown,
raised the alarm, and in an incredibly short time the whole camp was
in a state of uproar and panic. The warriors, suddenly aroused from
their sleep, were in a condition of extreme nervous tension after the
excitement and exertion of the day. Some imagined that the prisoners
had risen in revolt, while others believed that the fugitives had
returned in force to attack the camp, and it was some time before
order could be restored and the true position explained. Meanwhile,
Pura lay panting with fear and trembling lest he should be found, for
recapture meant certain death. His hiding, however, was not
discovered, and when the camp had once more settled down to sleep, he
quietly pushed the brushwood aside, and, threading his way out into
the swamp, made good his escape to the south, where he afterwards
joined the main body of the fugitives. Pura subsequently became a
well-known resident of Lyttelton, under the name of Pitama.
[123] "Some conception may be formed of the numbers slain and eaten
when I mention that some time after the settlement of Canterbury the
Rev. Mr. Raven, incumbent of Woodend, near the site of the _pa_
in question, collected many cartloads of their bones, and buried them
in a mound on the side of the main road from the present town of
Kaiapoi to the north. Ghastly relics of these feasts still strew the
ground, from which I myself have gathered many" (_Travers_).
[124] "The summit of Onawe was called Te-pa-nui-o-Hau. There, amongst
the huge boulders and rocks that crown the hill and cover its steep
sloping sides, dwelt the Spirit of the Wind, and tradition tells how
jealously it guarded its sacred haunts from careless intrusion"
(_Tales of Banks's Peninsula_).
[125] "Te Hiko struck us forcibly by his commanding stature, by his
noble, intelligent physiognomy, and by his truly chieftain-like
demeanour. His descent by both parents pointed him out as a great
leader in Cook Strait, should he inherit his father's great qualities.
He was sparing of his words and mild in speech. He had carefully
treasured up his father's instructions and the relics of his voyage to
England.... He was said to pay his slaves for their work, and to treat
them with unusual kindness, and the white men spoke of him as mild and
inoffensive in his intercourse with them" (_Wakefield_).
[126] "Before the northern fleet got clear of Banks's Peninsula, a
number of the prisoners escaped, the chief person amongst them being
Te Hori, known in after years as the highly respected native
Magistrate of Kaiapoi, the only man of acknowledged learning left
amongst the Ngai-Tahu after Te Rauparaha's last raid" (_Stack_).