HOW MATENE FAILED TO CONVERT THE LOWER WANGANUI
It was in April 1864 that Te Ua, the crazy founder of the Pai Marire
faith, despatched his apostle and prophet, Matene Rangitanira, to
convert the tribes of the Wanganui River to the new religion.
Now these tribes were divided into two sections, who, although closely
connected by blood, lived under separate chiefs, and notwithstanding
the fact that they were allied for mutual support against outsiders
still, like many European families, harboured jealousies among
themselves. There was also this difference between them: the Lower
River tribes had from the first always been friendly disposed towards
the settlers, or at all events had tolerated them, while the Upper
River natives detested the white man, although the latter had in no
way encroached on them, nor had they ever had much to do with them, as
their country was at a considerable distance from the English
settlements, the only means of communication being the river.
The Upper River natives were also, at this time, greatly enraged
against the white man and desirous of utu (revenge), on account of the
death of one of their principal chiefs, who had been killed the
previous year, together with thirty-six of his men, at the storming of
Kotikara. Matene, who was a member of the Wanganui tribes, arrived in
April 1864, accompanied by a party of Taranaki fanatics, at Pipiriki,
an important native village situated on the upper waters of the
Wanganui River, and began his mission.
At this place Mr Booth, the resident magistrate for the district,
dwelt, and although at the moment he was absent in the township of
Wanganui his wife and family, together with his brother and his
family, were there. Mr Booth was a most popular official with the
Maoris, and it is quite possible that, had he been at his post, he
might have been able to put a stop to the apostle's preaching before
it became too late; but unfortunately he was absent on duty and was
much delayed during his return journey by the paucity of water in the
river, so that it was the end of the month before he reached Pipiriki,
and the evil teaching had taken a firm hold on the natives.
Matene made such good use of Mr Booth's absence that in a few days he
had converted the great majority of the Upper River natives and had
erected a Niu (Hau Hau worship pole), on which Captain Lloyd's head
was suspended, and the tribe's men and women, mad with fanaticism,
danced furiously round it. During Mr Booth's slow progress up the
river the reports he received at every village he passed grew worse
and worse, while at Hiruharama the chiefs begged him not to go on, as
they warned him that the people farther up had joined the Hau Haus and
were all stark raving mad. Mr Booth, however, was grit right through;
his brother and their families were in direful danger and he
considered it to be his duty, both as a relation and also as an
official, to risk everything in trying to save them. He therefore
pushed on, trusting to his great influence and friendship with the
principal chiefs and tribes to pull him through, so as to enable him
to save his brother and their respective families.
On his reaching the landing-place at Pipiriki he immediately saw that
whatever influence and friendship he may have, at one time, held over
the people was a thing of the past, as, instead of the shouts and
songs of welcome by the women, and the gladful rush of young warriors
to haul his canoe up the bank so that he could land dryshod, all the
population lined the high river bank, making hideous grimaces at him
and howling like a lot of wild beasts.
Giving up all hope and expecting immediate death, Mr Booth sat quietly
in his canoe waiting to receive it with the calm courage of a British
pioneer, when suddenly a young but important chief, Hori Patene by
name, forced his way through the crowd of yelling savages and, jumping
into the canoe, started to tangi (shed tears of welcome) and rubbed
noses with him. When this ceremony was over Hori persuaded Mr Booth to
go home, and although he fully expected to be cut to pieces every yard
of the road, still accompanied and protected by the gallant Hori, he
succeeded in reaching his house, where he found his wife and children
more than half dead with horror and fear, expecting to be tortured and
brutally murdered every minute. No sooner had Mr Booth reached his
house than Hori started off and crossed the river, returning with Mr
Booth's brother and his family, so that all the whites might be
together, under his (Hori's) protection, or, if the worst came to the
worst, they could all die in company.
It was now sunset and the Hau Haus began their devotions, and, as the
Niu had been erected in front of Mr Booth's house, the unfortunate
inmates could not help seeing the awful cantrips nor hearing the foul
incantations. Huge fires were lit, and by their light hundreds of men
and women, in parties of about fifty at a time, danced round the pole
on which hung poor Captain Lloyd's head. Starting slowly and with
low-pitched but deep voices they began to chant the mystic words, Hau
Hau Pai Marire, while circling round the ring; but gradually, as the
spirit got hold of them, they put on the pace until, like a mob of
drunken demoniacs, they leaped, stamped and cavorted round the Niu
with foul, indecent gestures, grimaces and contortions of body, far
beyond the conception of an ordinary human being, while the mystic
words were howled out at the top of their gamuts, so that they
resembled a hideous phantasmagoria such as might be seen by a lunatic
suffering from a bad dose of d.t.
[Illustration: GATEWAY TO MAORI PAH.]
Hideous and disgusting as the contortions of the men were, those of
the women were worse; for no sooner had the spirit entered into them
than in their mad gyrations they leaped at the suspended head, trying,
with their teeth, to bite and worry the smoke-dried flesh and hair of
the unfortunate officer; and this they continued to do until at
length, foaming at the mouth and worn out with their crazy frenzy,
they either staggered from the ring or fell in convulsions on the
ground, to be dragged away by the next batch of worshippers who
were anxiously awaiting their turn. And this awful pandemonium went on
all through the night. Just think, my home-staying countrymen and
women, who sleep in peace under the guardianship of our splendid
police, what must have been the feelings of those English ladies and
men who, with their helpless children, had to witness such scenes,
knowing and fully expecting, as they did, that at any moment they
might be dragged out and, after they had all been subjected to
prolonged torture, should then be brutally murdered, with every
barbarity and indignity that fiends could invent or devils could
inflict.
During the night a council was held and Mr Booth could hear the
Taranaki men who had accompanied Matene urging the Wanganui to torture
and kill himself and family. Nor did the latter seem to want such
urging, as of all his whilom friends only Hori and one other man spoke
on his behalf, contesting right manfully that the honour of the Upper
River tribes would be for ever disgraced should the white people not
be allowed to depart in safety, as they were tribal guests. For two
more days and another night the unfortunate whites were kept in
suspense, Hori and a few other young chiefs, whom he had persuaded to
join him, standing between the would-be murderers and their prey. And
these noble young savages eventually saved them.
It was near sunset on the last of these days, and after a very stormy
meeting had been held, that Hori rushed into Mr Booth's house, saying:
"At last they have consented to let you go. Come at once; leave all
your property to me; for they may change their minds any moment."
Immediately they jumped up and followed him down to the canoe
landing-place. _En route_ they had to pass through a swarm of armed
Hau Haus who had lined the high river bank, and while doing so Mr
Booth heard some of them say: "Wait till they get into the canoe and
then we will fire a volley so as to shoot them down in a heap." Hori
overheard the same remarks and said to Mr Booth: "Take no notice of
them. Go slowly until you are out of sight; I and my friends will keep
in the line of fire between you and the Hau Haus." This the gallant
young fellow did, and, as the murderous brutes dare not run the risk
of killing a Wanganui chief, Mr Booth and his party paddled out of
shot and reached the township of Wanganui safely the following night.
The above yarn is a true though short narrative of one of the numerous
attempts made by chivalrous Maoris to protect helpless white men from
the blind, ferocious fanaticism of Te Ua's prophets. Alas! it was one
of the very few successful ones, though many brave natives lost their
lives and suffered torture rather than give information to the Hau
Haus as to the whereabouts of white fugitives. Surely their names and
actions should be remembered.
Immediately after Mr Booth's escape Matene and the Taranaki Hau Haus
persuaded the tribes of the Upper Wanganui to attack, with the
intention of utterly destroying, the white settlers and thriving
township of Wanganui, situated close to the mouth of the river, and at
once all hands turned to, to prepare their war canoes for that
purpose. Before, however, starting on this expedition, they sent
ambassadors to their relations, the Lower River natives, so as to
inform them of their purpose, and ask for their co-operation;
announcing at the same time that, should their relations not care to
join in and make a family party of the expedition, they (the Upper
River natives) would still carry out their programme--viz. descend the
river and wipe out every white man, woman and child in the district!
These emissaries, arriving at Hiruharama, a village that may be called
the frontier post of the river tribes, delivered their cheeky message,
which to the recipients was intolerable, as the Lower River tribes
claimed the right-of-way on the river to the westward of Hiruharama,
and although it had been frequently attempted in times past, no war
party had ever, up to date, succeeded in forcing a passage, and none
ever should succeed, so long as a Lower River native warrior could
handle musket or swing tomahawk. This being the well-known
determination of the Lower River tribes, the chiefs at Hiruharama
returned an evasive answer to the Hau Haus, at the same time
despatching a fast canoe downstream, so as to warn all their friends
of the threatened eruption and give the tip to the white men of their
imminent danger. Then, not being in sufficient strength to withstand
the brunt of the encounter, the village was immediately abandoned, all
the inhabitants retiring downstream, collecting _en route_ the people
belonging to the pahs Kanaeroa and Tawhitinui; but on reaching Ranana
they halted, being joined at that place by the bulk of the warriors of
the Lower River. Close to Ranana was the island of Moutoa, a classic
battle-ground, every square yard of which had been drenched with
blood, shed in old-time wars, and on this island they determined,
should their relations attempt to carry out their threats and try to
force their way down the river, to resist them to the last gasp. In
the meantime the Hau Haus, uncertain as to what sort of reception they
would receive, were cautiously descending the river, and as they found
every village deserted they halted at and occupied Tawhitinui, which
was situated some two miles above Ranana and on the other bank, and
from this place opened negotiations with their relations.
The last few days had been passed by the white population in
consternation almost amounting to despair. The outlying farmers and
settlers, abandoning homes, stock and everything they owned, rushed
into town, where each man anxiously asked his friends: "Can we trust
the Lower River natives?" "Will they become converted and join the Hau
Haus?" "If so, what then?" True, they possessed one great factor in
their favour, and that was the firm and undeviating friendship of old
Hori Kingi Te Anaua (the paramount chief of the Lower Waikato), whose
name should be remembered and treasured by every white man, woman and
child on the west coast of New Zealand. For when the first settlers
landed at Wanganui, Hori, then the most renowned warrior on the coast,
had taken their leader by the hand, and declared himself to be the
friend and protector of the white man, and this promise the pagan
cannibal warrior carried out both in letter and spirit till the day of
his death. But then, alas! Hori by this time was a very old man, and
although the glamour of his great deeds enveloped the aged chief like
a halo, and his people regarded him as a being something more than
human; still, taking into consideration the astonishing way the crazy
Pai Marire faith had been accepted by the Upper River natives as well
as by many other tribes, it was very doubtful whether old Hori would
be able to restrain them at such a crisis. Moreover, all the Lower
Wanganui natives were strong supporters of the Maori King movement,
and many of their important sub-chiefs, especially Mete Kingi Te
Anaua, a chief only second to Hori in influence, hated the white men;
so that the settlers may well be pardoned for their consternation; as,
in case the Lower River natives saw fit to join their relations and
become Hau Haus, even should they (the settlers) successfully repulse
the combined native attack, and save their own lives, still the
township and all the outlying farms must go up in smoke. They
therefore made what preparations they could for defence and anxiously
waited the termination of the native runanga (meeting). As I have
previously stated, the Lower River tribes had massed at Ranana, the
Hau Haus occupying the adjacent pah Tawhitinui, and on 13th May 1864
the prophet Matene, with a numerous deputation of his newly made
converts, paddled over to Ranana to open negotiations.
Now it is quite possible, nay, even probable, that had Matene opened
the proceedings of the runanga with prayer and incantations, as does
the British House of Parliament, he would have succeeded in converting
the opposition party and so have gained his nefarious ends; but this
he did not do, as no sooner had the deputation been announced than
Matene issued this insolent ultimatum--viz. that they (the Hau Haus)
were determined to descend the river, peacefully if allowed to do so,
but otherwise would win through by force. Whoop, hullabaloo, that
ultimatum, short as it was, upset the fat into the fire and brought
Haimona, chief of the Ngatipa-Moana and a mighty fighting man before
the Lord, on to his feet, who replied: "Och it's force the river ye'll
be after, is it? Well, divil a drop of it ye'll mix wid yer whisky
beyand the island of Moutoa; mind yez that, ye black-advised,
audacious Hau Haus; but av it's a fight ye want, sure there's that
same island Moutoa, that's moighty convanient, and maybe ye'll not
want to go furder whin we've finished wid ye; so come on now,
M'Matene, Esq., an trid on the tail of me mat, ye ruddy heretic, or
get back to the ould Te Ua, an' may the cuss of Cromel rest on him and
his Pai Marire monkey tricks."
Now, as I am trying to be a truthful narrator, I am bound to confess
that the above is not a verbatim report of the oration spoken by
Haimona, although the sentiments expressed in it are exactly similar
and both contained a direct challenge; which challenge was immediately
accepted, and as there was nothing further to squabble about, both
parties went into committee to amicably discuss the coming fight,
settle the details and sign the articles, which were as follows:--
1. That a fight should take place the following day on the island of
Moutoa. 2. That the freedom of the right of road on the river should
be the stake. 3. Seeing that the combatants were closely connected by
blood relationship as well as by alliance, and that it would be bad
policy to weaken the fighting strength of the combined Wanganui tribes
by indiscriminate slaughter, it was therefore agreed that only 100 men
a side should take part in the combat. 4. That as the Lower River
natives were the owners of the island, they should land on the lower
end before daylight. That the Hau Haus should land at the top end at
daylight and that their disembarkation should be unopposed. 5. That
both sides bound themselves to refrain from all ambuscades, tricks or
trickery, but were to meet and fairly fight it out to the bitter end.
Next morning at grey dawn 100 picked men, of the Lower River tribes,
were ferried over to Moutoa, landed and arranged themselves in order
of battle, divided into two companies of equal strength, and each
company was told off into three subdivisions, these being led by
renowned warriors. The leading company or van was commanded by
Tamehana Te Aewa, who was also C.O. of the whole outfit, who had under
him Hemi Napi as leader of the right subdivision, Riwai Tawhitorangi
leader of the centre and Kereti of the left. The supporting company
was commanded by Haimona, but, through an error in tactics, it had
been located 200 yards in rear of the van, a distance far too great
for men armed with double-barrelled guns to render effective aid; and
this error nearly caused disaster. To the tick of time the Hau Haus
disembarked at the top end of the island but, alas! their pristine
chivalry had been already tainted by their infernal religion, as they
landed 130 men instead of the stipulated number, which was not
cricket. They had also a powerful moral factor in their favour--viz.
they (the Hau Haus) believed themselves to be invulnerable, while most
of their opponents more than half believed the same thing, so that,
notwithstanding their splendid courage and determination, very many of
the latter considered themselves to be hopelessly handicapped in
having to fight against men who were aided by angels. This nervousness
must have increased as Tamehana led the leading company on to the
attack, for when within thirty yards of the Hau Haus the centre and
left subdivisions fired a volley, of which every bullet flew wide, not
one single Hau Hau being hurt; of course this vile shooting had the
effect of confirming the fears of the Lower River natives and
exhilarating their opponents.
The latter made haste to return the volley, and just as they did so a
Roman Catholic lay brother rushed in between the combatants, exhorting
them to terminate this fratricidal strife. Poor devil, he met with the
end that many men who interfere with family jars do meet with, as the
volley finished him off before he could finish his first argument; and
it has often been a matter of speculation to me as to whether he was a
martyr or only an interfering busybody. This same volley also was a
most disastrous one for the Lower River natives: Riwai and Kereti with
many of their men fell dead, while the survivors of their own
subdivisions, disheartened by the loss of their leaders, and now fully
convinced of the invulnerability of the Hau Haus, broke their ranks
and fell back in disorder. Hemi Nape and his men, however, refused to
fly and in a few moments proved that at all events some of the Hau
Haus were far from being immortal, much less invulnerable.
Fine fighters Hemi Nape and his boys, were and well they bore
themselves, but alas! how could they, less than twenty in number,
withstand such overwhelming odds?--so that though they fought like
fiends incarnate still they were driven back and must have been
quickly wiped out. Help, however, was at hand, for suddenly old
Tamehana Te Aewa, with the roar of a wild bull, threw himself into the
vortex of the combat and, begorra! he made things lively. You see,
when the centre and left subdivisions gave way he tried to rally them,
but failing to do so he returned alone to the fight, so as to throw in
his lot with the lads who scorned to fly. Just at the moment he
arrived Hemi had ordered his men to take cover, but that did not suit
Tamehana, who charged the Hau Haus like a whirlwind and killed two of
them with a clean right and left; then, throwing away his empty gun,
he picked up a spear dropped by one of the dead men and drove it
through a third one's body, grabbing, as the dying man fell, his gun
and tomahawk. The gun was unfortunately not loaded, but he made use of
it by braining a fourth man with the butt and then sank the blade of
the tomahawk so deep into a fifth man's skull that as he tried to
wrench it out the tough handle went to splinters. Immediately he
seized his last victim's gun and was about to use it when a bullet
struck him in the arm, and he had just time to shoot the man who had
wounded him when another smashed his right knee to pieces and put a
termination to his day's sport. When he fell the Hau Haus made a rush
to finish him off, which rush was met by a counter-charge of Hemi
Nape's men, who, although they were all wounded, determined to die
rather than allow old Tamehana to be killed or captured. Led by
Marino, Hemi's son, for Hemi himself had been shot dead a moment
before, they threw themselves on the Hau Haus and made such a
determined stand that it gave time to Haimona with his supporting
company to come into action.
This grim old warrior had been originally posted too far in rear of
the van and had lost some time in rallying the fugitives, whom he
tongue-lashed out of their cowardly nervousness, his endeavours being
helped by the scornful yells and entreaties of the men and women
spectators, who, mad with excitement, watched the apparently lost
battle from the bank of the river. Then promptly adding the whilom
runaways to his own party, he rapidly advanced to make his effort.
There was no fear now of the late fugitives turning tail again, for
nigh crazy with shame and contrition, they would far sooner face a
thousand deaths than be branded as cowards through the length and
breadth of New Zealand.
Deflecting his advance to the right, he cleared the expiring struggle
in which the remnant of Hemi's men were still dying hard, and then by
a quick change of front to the left he outflanked the Hau Haus and at
close quarters poured in two death-dealing volleys that decimated the
fanatics. Then without a moment's delay "out tomahawks" was the order
and, led by Haimona himself, the new-comers rushed madly into the
fray. Immediately the aspect of the combat changed. Up to this time
the Hau Haus had had much the best of it, but now fickle Fortune
turned her back upon them and old Tamehana's bearsark rush, together
with the glorious stand made by Hemi Nape's men, were to reap their
reward; as from the moment Haimona's party took a hand in the game the
Upper River natives had to fight, not for conquest, but for their
lives. The volleys they had received had killed several important
chiefs and many men, while the furious charge of Haimona's party on
their left flank all but routed them; still they were Maori warriors,
as brave as any men on earth, and although broken and confused they
turned to meet the attack with the greatest courage.
Now began the last phase of a fight that Homer himself would have
loved to sing about. Howling for blood, Haimona's men rushed into
hand-to-hand combat. Both sides had discarded their guns, both sides
ceased from yelling as they came chest to chest, but the tomahawks
gave out a sharp click, as they clashed against one another in the
air, that provided the alto part to the sickening scrunch of the
inflicting wound, the guttural grunt of the wounder and the sobbing
groan of the wounded. Faith! it was a fine fight. The impetuosity of
the desperate charge bore the Hau Haus backwards, and in spite of
their furious efforts they were forced to continue the retrograde
movement, for the Lower River Maoris, fighting as they were with their
tribesmen and women looking on, outdid their best, while the men who
had previously fled, madly anxious to obliterate their shame, and who,
careless of wounds and death, only strove to kill, fought like demons.
The Hau Haus were therefore steadily driven back, and as the bloody
tussle continued they at last reached the shore of the island, when,
unable to make a stand, or retire farther, those that remained on
their feet were forced to plunge into the rapid current and attempt to
escape by swimming. Of these but few reached the opposite bank, and of
those who were lucky enough to do so twenty were captured by Mete
Kingi, who, with 350 Lower River warriors, had watched the fight.
The end of the prophet Matene brought the whole show to a tragical
finale. He had fought bravely through the fight; for, as it is only
right to give the devil his due, I may here state that all of Te Ua's
prophets were game to lead any cracked-brained exploit they might have
persuaded their misguided disciples to undertake, and consequently
vacancies frequently occurred in the apostolic ranks. Well, Matene was
still alive when the remnant of his men were forced into the river, so
he had to frog it with them, and was swimming away for all he was
worth when the eagle eye of Haimona spotted him. The chief turned to
his aide-de-camp, Te Moro, and handed him his bone mere (a short
battle-axe made out of whalebone and greatly used by the natives
before the introduction of steel-bladed tomahawks), at the same time
pointing out the fugitive and remarking: "There is your fish." In
plunged Te Moro, who, swimming rapidly, overtook his prey and grabbed
him just as he reached the bank. In vain the prophet tried to save
himself by his incantations: "Hau Hau, Pai Marire. Hau----" He gasped
the remainder of his discourse, being interrupted by a smashing cut
from the mere, and Te Moro swam back, towing the dead body, which he
threw down at Haimona's feet.
The fight being over, it was now necessary to count the cost. Out of
the 130 Hau Haus who had landed 70 lay dead, 20 badly wounded and 20
were prisoners, all the balance, with the exception of one who was
known to have made his escape, being probably more or less disabled,
were drowned. The loss of the Lower River natives was 16 killed and 50
badly wounded; so that it may be called a very good fight indeed,
second only to that remarkable combat between the two Kilkenny tom
cats--but then they were Irish, you know.
The result of this family fall-out effectually saved the white
settlers, as, in the first place, it put a limit to the spread of the
Pai Marire religion on the Wanganui River and prevented the Lower
River natives from casting in their lot with the Hau Haus, which,
probably, they would have done had Matene approached them in a
conciliatory manner instead of rubbing them up the wrong way, by
threatening to force the right-of-way on the river. The township was
saved, as were also the outlying farms and much stock, and the
settlers showed their appreciation of the Lower River natives' gallant
conduct by attending _en masse_ the obsequies of the chiefs and
warriors killed in the fight. This side show, as one may call it, to
the general war that was then raging all over the country was kept up
in a desultory sort of way and ended in so quaint a manner that I
think I may be pardoned for relating the facts.
After the gentle passage-at-arms on Moutoa, the discomfited, but still
bigoted, Upper River natives retired to their own country, halting
when they reached Ohotahi, a pah situated higher up the river but
close to Hiruharama. Here they fortified themselves, being allowed
ample time to do so by their chivalrous opponents, as it would have
been bad form and quite foreign to Maori war etiquette for one enemy
to attack another until the defenders had made everything ready for
their assailants' reception. It was therefore not until February 1865
that a strong party of the Lower River Maoris, under the command of
Honi Hipango, advanced up the river and commenced the siege. At the
first Honi gained some advantages, and a few men were killed on either
side, though much time was lost in ceremonious sparring; but at last
they really got to work, and Honi was preparing to rush the place when
he was mortally wounded. His death enraged his men, and the final
charge was moving forward when a woman came out of the gate, waving a
white flag; she was quickly recognised as being the wife of Pehi
Turoa, who in reality was the great ancestral chief of both sections
of the Wanganui tribe. The appearance of this aristocratic old dame at
once caused an immediate cessation of hostilities, the firing ceased,
and both sides, quitting their shelter trenches, met together,
squatted down and commenced an elaborate tangi (ceremonious weeping),
in which they mutually bewailed the killed on both sides; for the
reader must remember that both factions were closely connected by
blood.
The Lower River natives were now on the horns of a dilemma; eighty Hau
Haus were at their mercy, among them being Pehi Turoa himself, and
these unfortunates should, by all the rules of the game, be at once
immolated as utu for the death of Honi Hipango, Esq. But it was
impossible for them to slaughter, in cold blood, their own relations;
neither could they make their own kinsmen prisoners, especially old
Pehi, for that would smother themselves with dishonour, as it would
degrade their own great hereditary chief and a number of their own
blood relations to the status of slavery, which would entail shameful
ignominy on the whole of the Wanganui tribe. What then should be done
with Pehi and his party? It was a very hard nut to crack, and all
hands went into committee to solve the problem, which was at last done
in this way, Pehi himself being the fount of wisdom from which the
adopted suggestion emanated:
The old chief propounded that whereas, for reasons stated above, it
was inexpedient that himself and party should be knocked on the head,
or degraded to slaves, the only other course open was to let them go;
and that, as it was unseemly for warriors to promenade around the
country unarmed, it would be necessary for them to take their weapons
with them. And to this suggestion both parties gave a cordial assent.
A treaty was therefore made in which both factions resolved that they
would allow no religious rancour to disunite again the Wanganui tribe,
and that although each party retained the right to fight on the side
of either white man or Hau Hau, yet that said fighting must be enjoyed
outside their own country: and this compact was honourably kept to the
end of the war. Up till 1869 the Upper River natives as a whole sat
tight, then joined us so as to exact utu on Te Kooti for the murder of
one of Turoa's relations. The Lower River natives became our most
staunch allies, for being men of discernment they quickly tumbled to
the fact that it was far more humorous and better sport to fight
their old-time enemies, the Taranaki Hau Haus, and draw pay and
rations while enjoying their favourite "divarsion," than to stay at
home, or, like their misguided relatives, dance round a pole and howl,
"Hau Hau, Pai Marire."
I think before I terminate this yarn I may tell you about a rather
quaint incident that happened during the siege of Ohotaki, and as it
portrays an idiosyncrasy or trait in Maori character you will pardon
my doing so.
Well, one night a party of Lower River natives attempted to surprise
an outlying detached post they knew to be weakly held. They crawled up
to the place, and were about to rush it when a woman's voice called
out: "Take care what you do; Te Miere and Te Mokena are here"--these
being the names of two aged men at that time quite past fighting, but
who, in their prime, had been mighty warriors of great and bloody
renown. At once the storming party retired, for to have captured a
place the garrison of which contained two such notable veterans would
have injured the prestige of both parties in the eyes of the fighting
population throughout New Zealand.